Log:Hung Like a Hapan: Quentin H(ASS)lett

Quentin H(ASS)lett

OOC Date: Monday, February 5th 2018
Location: Quentin's Laboratory, Nar Shadda
Participants: Quentin Haslett, Defiance: Tarion Tavers, Sajin.

Sajin had sent out some feelers (eww) and the response was, well... interesting enough. He was very surprised to find that there was someone on Nar Shadda, not only who had a brilliant mind but was also Hapan. The odds were astounding to say the least. Sajin enters the Laboratory, his Haze eyes glancing around curious yet hesitant. The man's reputation preceded him. He holds the door open for whoever dared to follow him to the 'Doctor' and all around Genius with the horrible bedside manner. Sajin's looks and pale eyes indicating some ocular degeneration may indicate who and what he is. A fellow of the shop owners species. "Hello?" He inquires in that low rumble of his.

Indeed, a Hapan frequented here. The establishment was far too well maintained for any common lout to inhabit. The laboratory was always a source of activity, with chemistry sets churning ominously, bacta bubbling, and enough light to obscure any shadow in the room. Sitting near the back was a tall man, shaggy of hair, with a rugged handsomeness to his features that indicated he was butt-ugly by Hapan standards, and wearing spectacles hinting at his own ocular obstacles. He was tending to a plant, a very small plant. In fact, it was an extremely, extremely minuature verson of a Kashyyyk wroshyr tree. The man utilized tiny, tiny scissors to prune tiny, tiny branches.

Tarion Tavers comes in through the door, glancing around with wide eyes at all the scientific tomfoolery whatchamacallits packed into this lab. The bounty hunter's mouth is open in a small 'o' of dumb fascination as he leads the way on in, marching right past Sajin without even saying 'thank you' for holding the door. "We're here to see a man about a tropical mist. Some kinda hairspray the Haps are real into. Look, Sajin, he's got a binzo tree," he comments aside to his companion, looking over his shoulder and waving at the tiny thing.

Sajin seems to not mind Tarion's rudeness. Likely he's just used to it by now and tunes it out. He was never one to really start trouble with people and their quirks, he had plenty of his own. He takes in all the different bubbling tubes and exotic thingamajigs with about as much wonder as Tarion. Then, upon seeing Quentin working on his tiny little tree. The kind of which he's never seen before. He's about to say something, though Tarion beats him too it. He sighs, his power armor covered shoulders slumping, head shaking. "Transitory Mists..." He corrects his companion. "We need a way through the Transitory Mists, Mr. Hasslett."

Transitory Mists. Not even a hello. Just a request. Quentin looked up very slowly from his gardening and turned his head very slowly to witness the louts in his sanctuary. "Transitory mists," he repeated flatly. The scissors were put very carefully on the workbench. The doctor put his hands on the armrests of his chair and stood. He was tall, at perfect eye-level with the other Hapan in the room. "Do you believe me to be some sort of fool, Mister Kovo? I know whenever any Hapan lands on this godless rock. I daresay I'm very talented at avoiding their ire. And now you come here, to me, asking for help to return home?" His voice was formal, measured, and extremely indignant. This was a man used to getting his way.

"What's the haps, man?" Tarion greets with a smarmy grin, turning the charm up to negative twelve and probably doing more harm than good. "We don't think you're 'some sort of fool,'" he assures Quentin, doing some air-quotes with his fingers. "We think you're a very particular kind of fool. A science-y fool. The kind of science-y fool who can get us through the transitlorry mists." The bounty hunter clasps his hands respectfully behind his back, watching and waiting for his persuasion and charisma to change Quentin's mind.

Sajin purces his lips at Quetin's responce. "Fool no, Maybe a Nurf Herder, but you're no fool Mr. Haslett." He looks to Tarion and sort of chuckles a bit, finding his words humerous. "Tarion... your fly is down." He leans over and whispers to the man. Clearing his throat he looks to the Hapan Scientist once more. "Let me start again. You obviously know who I am. Then you also must know who I'm married to. Drik needs protecting and this is our last recourse now that the Republic is is down the drain. So I'm taking a Diplomatic Trip back home because it's a last ditch effort to maybe get some protection from the Queen Mother against the First Order and what ever else." He leaves certain recent details out, like how aparently his mother is trying to kill him now.

The words out of the mouths of these men left a bitter tinge to the air. Doctor Q's gaze hardened. He tilted his head, in such a way that the light caught his glasses and rendered them opaque for the briefest instant. He looked at them with naught in his eyes but pure, unadulterated Judgement. They had been found wanting. "Get out," he ordered them, in a tone so sharp you could pimp your eyelashes with it.

Tarion stares at the Hapan scientist for a long moment, returning the judgmental gaze with one of his own, and when the other man finally snaps, so does he. "Listen, you prissy pink prick," he half snarls, stepping up close to the other man, who's taller but not by a whole lot. "I remember you now. You're that sniveling puss who was hiding in the gutter while me and my friends were getting shot up by First Order troops over an innocent misunderstanding. You are going to help the Saj-man over there, or so help me I will put my foot so far up your ass that you'll be able to collect specimens from the other side. I don't even know if my leg will go that far, but I'm sure as hell willing to find out," the bounty hunter warns, jamming a finger up in the doctor's face. "Our money's good so come down off your high kriffing bantha and help out your idiot countryman or whatever the krif." Fuming, he backs off, glancing over at Sajin like 'what're you gonna do about it?' and wandering over to cross his arms and glare at a petri dish.

Sajin blinks at Tarion, crossing his arms over his armor plated chest. He takes a moment, gathering a breath before he speaks again. "Like he said, we can pay you for what ever contraption. Navigational Software... hell a map like the kind that comes on a piece of paper that'll help us through. You don't have to come with us and you have our silence you were involved."

That was certainly a blistering tirade! A thug accosting Q was not exactly a rare thing on this planet but by goodness, if one could measure the quality of a speech by the amount of spittle dispatched, this was a space-Nobel prize. "The anatomical impossibility of your threat is astounding, matched only by the mind so primitive to discern it," said the good (lol) doctor, fishing out a handkerchief of sorts and wiping down parts of his jacket and sweater. "I fear I shall have to sanitize thoroughly." Because ew. The man sighed, and took off his glasses. Something had gotten caught on them. "You are Hapan. You should know full well how to get home, or I shall lump you into the same category as this idiot." Q paused, looking at Tarion. "Namely, he's an idiot." Short, succint, and in no way subtle.

"Listen, Sajin, we don't need this clown. He's just going to say big words and act like it makes him some kind of progeny," Tarion puts in from the side, little else to add at this juncture. "Unless you want me to hit him."

Sajin shakes his head to Tarion, "No it's alright Tarion. I appreciate the offer though." The power armor wearing Hapan looks back to Q. "I only went out once and I wasn't flying. How do you expect me to remember a trip I took over Fifteen Years ago by memory?" Then he thinks, "Unless... well I suppose that could work." He presses a finger to his lips. "We need to find us some Hapan Pirates Tarion."

"Prodigy," hissed Quentin, his eyes closed and fingertips fastened to the bridge of his nose. "Not progeny. Progeny means child, and I fear any progeny spawned from you will be a blight upon the galaxy's gene pool." Then, sudden realization hit the man like a thrown Ph.D, frame and all. "Unless you consent to a specialized chem-gelding technique I devised last year. Harmless, I assure you." His tone was friendly, if one could consider a space-lion hiding in the bushes to be friendly in that it wasn't quite attacking you just yet.

"I know what gilding is and I'm not about to have it done to me. That shit is expensive," Tarion replies suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest and eying the doctor. "I don't like this guy, Sajin. I think he's a real piece of work. I think we should make him do the job anyway. Hapan pirates sound like a lot of work, and probably braver than this book-ish nerd here, and I'm kind of over killing sexy Hapan girls for you."

"Don't worry Tarion, show off your skills when we get to court and I'm sure you'll get kidnapped by at least one single Hapan." Sajin informs Tarion before looking back to Q. "He said it was Expensive. How much is this going to cost me and what's the chance that it's going to melt my brain?" Not that he had many brains to begin with but he had common sense.

"Ten thousand credits," said Quentin flatly, folding his arms. His eyes still possessed firey Judgement of the Two Stooges in front of him. "This price ensures you get your route, ensures you are not followed, and that I am not put in the firing line." Was he gouging them? Probably, but it might well have been fair.

Sajin steps forward, "Fine. Do it..." Despite any hesitation he has. He waits for instructions.