Log:In which Trillian and Corr have an Outing at Lord Eebua's Spaceport
Lord Eebua's Starport... A busy hive of activity. All manner of species crowd the platforms, bustling from the landing pads to the surrounding buildings. It's chaotic, to say the least.
Trillian Taim is sitting at a small cafe near the main concourse. She is slumped low in her seat and doing her best to keep her head down and behind a flimsy menu. She keeps peeking over the menu at something and then ducking back down.
Near one of the landing pads, a familiar figure in simple attire is having a slightly heated conversation with one of the port officials. "I /know/ you ain't got the records for every single ship that comes on'n off this rock, I'm askin' who /might/ know where I can view some manifests for mining equipment cargo," the man is saying, arms crossed over his chest as the light rain patters down on the canopy above them.
A female Twi'lek, armed with a datapad, stares back at him with bored eyes. "Sir, please direct all inquiries to the main office for assistance. I cannot provide you with further information."
Trillian looks up from the menu again, eyes locked across the spaceport. A voice behind her clears his throat again. "... Miss?" asks the voice, seemingly tired and annoyed. Trillian starts and jumps in her chair. Noticing the cafe waiter standing next to her, she blinks in confusion. "Miss? Have you made up your mind yet?" asks the uninterested waiter. Trillian looks down at the menu in her hands and stammers for a second. "um... yes... um... sorry... um... a caf? Could I have a cup of caf?" The waiter stares at Trillian for a moment before pointing at the full, untouched, cooling cup of caf at her elbow. "... Miss. You haven't touched the one you ordered 10 minutes ago. Are you sure you'd like another?" Trillian flushes bright red and grabs the cup, drinking half of it in one gulp before swallowing and coughing slightly. "um... yes... another... **cough** Um... another caf please." The waiter shrugs imperceptibly and scribbles something on a pad before walking away, muttering. Trillian turns back to continue watching the spaceport.
"So you have no idea where I'd go about getting some of that information," Corr replies tepidly, giving the woman a dead-eyed, disbelieving stare.
"Sir, I've told you, you have to submit any inquiries to the main office. I cannot provide that information." Lavender skin and lavender eyes, with no sense of kinship or empathy in the latter, remain unchanged despite his pressing.
"Have a nice day, then," Corr mutters, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets as he turns to walk away, heading vaguely towards the cafe with Trillian chugging caf.
Trillian is so absorbed in hiding behind her menu and peeking out every so often that she almost completely misses Corr walking by. Corr, on the other hand, if he were prone to noticing the strange and unusual would almost certainly notice that Trillian is either really nervous about waiting for somebody, or is just really bad at staking somebody out. Trillian, now absent-mindedly sipping at a cup of caf is still looking out on the spaceport, oblivious to everything else.
Corr Waldin tests his Perception skill at a 100 difficulty.
Corr Waldin tests his Perception skill at a 102 difficulty.
Corr's not the best at social skills, small talk, making friends, discussing his feelings, or, you know, anything involving words or other people that he's not ordering in a small unit tactical movement, but he is good at noticing things that are out of the ordinary; that includes Trillian, who's in the middle of looking very conspicuous and not taking the proper amount of time to enjoy that cup of caf. The ex-solider's eyes are always moving, looking for signs of danger, and in this case the shifty individual he spots is the familiar, innocent face from the shooting range. "You alright there?" he questions, wiping some rain back from his forehead.
Trillian starts again in surprise, almost dropping the menu that she's been holding for nearly fifteen minutes now. She blinks and looks up into the face of Corr Waldin. It takes her a second or two to recognize his solemn face, but then she suddenly looks around and says, too loudly, "Oh... um... Corr! You made it! I've been waiting... um... so long! Come and sit down!" Trillian grabs Corr's arm, and pulls him into the other seat, looking around nervously and holding the menu up again. She peeks over the top at something off in the distance and then holds the menu back up in front of her face.
Abruptly, she leaps into action and grabs him by the arm. Corr braces himself for another hug, his eyes squeezing shut from the nervous anticipation, and instead is pulled into a chair, where he sits, blinking, surprised and confused. "Uh... right," he mutters, cautiously taking up his own menu to glance down at the contents and then back up to the rear of the menu she's holding between them. "...you okay?"
Trillian turns her eyes at Corr and blinks in confusion. "What? Oh... um... yes. I'm fine. I'm just... um... uh... " she says, eyeing over her menu. "I'm just... um... kind of... well, ok... Do you see that freighter over there?" Trillian points at a YT-2000 freighter several landing pads over. The distinctive small freighter with it's cockpit jutting out of the middle like a cyclopian eye had definitely seen better days. Armor plating of different types look as if they had been hastily welded on, and there was definitely some blaster scarring near the engines. Trillian narrows her eyes at the freighter and glares.
Corr follows the point, twisting his head back over his shoulder, his neck joint popping unexpectedly in the process, which takes him by surprise and makes him pause for a second before continuing the whole way around. The man peers blatantly at the YT for a few seconds before turning back to the suddenly shifty woman at the table with him. "Yeah, I see it. Why? What's up with it?"
"Don't stare at it!" Trillian says, probably a little louder than she intended. And also even though she is most definitely staring at it. She lowers her voice and pulls Corr closer to herself. "I'm pretty sure I know that ship. It's the 'Enlightened.'" She mutters, half under her breath, "I know that ship. And I want to know why it's here." Trillian narrows her eyes again doesn't relinquish her grip on Corr's arm.
The 'don't stare!' snap makes Corr jump a little bit, not expecting that sort of outburst from Trillian, and now he's catching onto her paranoia, clutching his menu tighter and staring down at the mundane font choice. "The Enlightened, huh? Sounds... I don't know, progressive." Aka EVIL. "Where you know it from?"
Trillian continues glaring at the ship, almost accusingly. She's angry. Surprisingly angry for somebody as soft-spoken as she usually is. This is certainly a different side of Trillian Taim. "I know that ship because I flew on that ship. That's the ship that abandoned me here on Nar Shaddaa. And if that ship is here... it means that scumbag Deng Baine is here," she mutters angrily.
"They left you?" Corr's eyebrows raise, or rather one of them does, in an inquisitive expression. "That don't seem hardly fair activity for an employer," he speculates helpfully, although his ideas of what an employer should and shouldn't do are probably a bit skewed. "Any reason, or just flat abandoned you?"
Trillian finally tears her eyes away from the freighter to look at Corr. When she finally meets his eyes, hers are glistening with unshed tears. "They just left me here," she starts slowly. "Actually... they deliberately dropped me off here. They hired me to help them fly some cargo from the Core to out here. I knew I shouldn't have taken the job, but I really needed the credits... so I took the contract. Deng Baine owns that ship. He's a ... um... what's the term... for somebody who's paid for ... um... acquiring... stuff, legal or otherwise?"
"Depends. Prob'ly smuggler," Corr replies, watching the woman carefully, like a bomb waiting to explode. He's not good with feelings, and the tears, unshed or otherwise, warn him that the dreaded things might be looming, waiting to be unleashed. Feelings. "Was it actually in your contract you'd fly back? Mighta done some shady dodging in the fine print t'make sure they were covered when they left you here. Not sure as to why they'd bother bringing you here and not take you back, since you were the pilot an' all, but I'm guessin' they musta had a reason."
"Because. Deng Baine is a bastard," Trillian says simply and turns back to glare at the ship. They sit in awkward silence for a few more minutes. "They just needed me to get them through customs. I was... I was a patsy. I was used. I was... " she mutters angrily and then trails off. Silent tears are now streaming from her eyes. "I was... so... so... stupid." She turns to look back at Corr, with red-rimmed eyes. "I... I would have... if it wasn't for... " she swallows, composes herself and looks up againn. "If it wasn't for Hex and Kasia, I probably would have been a body in an alley somewhere here." Trillian picks up a napkin and wipes her tears away.
Oh god, the feelings are coming. Corr just sits there in awkward silence, glancing down at the menu. He's in uncharted territory here; he's never really had to deal with a crying woman before, and he's not doing it well now, just sort of staring down at the food options with an uncharacteristic concentration on the appetizers. "Well, uh, that don't sound too good," he eventually agrees, when it seems like the crying is over, eyes flickering up cautiously to see if she's finished with 'all that'.
The waiter comes back to the table at this moment, and pauses for a second, taking in the atmosphere at the outdoor cafe table. There was a small, petite woman in tears, while her stoic dining partner stared at a menu... The waiter narrows his eyes at Corr. Surely, this man wasn't the person that this poor, young woman had been waiting for all this time. Only to have her heart ripped out of her body and dumped on the table like so many leftovers from the weekday brunch menu. "Ahem," the waiter interrupted, still glaring at Corr. "Would you like to order now?"
"Uh. I'll just have whatever she's havin'," Corr replies to the inexplicably hostile waiter, tucking the menu back in the holder it came from. The social implications sail right past him, and it's somewhat easily ascertained by anyone passably familiar with him that this is just the world the man lives in; he goes about his business, and other people have completely mysterious reactions to the events around them.
Trillian has gotten herself somewhat back under control, still sniffling, but back to glaring over Corr's shoulder at the freighter. The waiter comes back after a minute and places a cup of caf in front of Corr, sloshing the liquid and still glaring. He then abruptly turns and flounces back into the restaurant.
"It's ok. I'm ok with that part now," says Trillian sadly. "But... if Deng Baine is here... I'm going to guess that nothing good is coming of this. I want to know why he's coming through Nar Shaddaa again. And I want to make sure he's not trying to con some other pilot." As she says this, her eyes widen and she ducks lower in her seat. Across the concourse, a trio of people were walking away from the freighter in their direction. A human male, draped in a long, leather coat, tight breeches and a stained shirt was joined by a Rodian male and a tall, hulking Duros. Trillian looks around nervously as they meander in the direction of the cafe.
Maybe Corr can just gun them all down right here. Just kidding, he doesn't have his gun or his uniform or armor or anything. He's just some dude at a table sipping caf with his friend the floating menu. "That your guy?" he mutters aside to Trillian, taking a calm sip of caf.
Trillian holds up the menu, hiding behind as the trio walks right by their table. They don't even notice the small girl hiding behind a menu. After they walk off, Trillian glares after them. "... yes. That's defintiely them," she says, and then thoughtfully looks at the freighter. Reaching into a pocket, she pulls out a couple of credits and drops them on the table. Standing, she strides off purposefully towards the freighter. A couple of steps away, she turns and looks at Corr. "Well? C'mon let's go. Who knows when they're coming back!"
From the table, Corr looks uncertainly after the departing thugs and the strutting Taim. "...what do you want to do, exactly?" he questions, reluctantly leaving the table and his caf behind, tossing a tiny credit chit on top of his napkin to cover the cost. "I'm not breakin' into this ship with you, if that's what you've got in mind." Meddling kids.
Trillian comes back to the table, grabs Corr's arm and hauls him to his feet (well, as effectively as a tiny woman can do that...). "Good. Then you can keep watch. C'mon," Trillian said and leading Corr over to the battered YT-2000. Up close, the freighter was in worse shape than it had looked from further away. The repairs on the outside were just... unorganized... unprofessional... just... sloppy. Trillian, still holding onto Corr's arm, drags them towards the landing pad, guarded by a bored, sleepy-looking human with a clipboard. He holds out a hand in front of the two of them as they're about to step onto the pad. He takes his time looking at the clipboard, then looking at Corr and Trillian. "Name?" he says laconically.
Corr is ferried along like one of those ghastly social media 'lead me' pictures, unwillingly at best, but somehow urged on by the pint-sized determination of Trillian Taim. When they arrive outside the ship, he glances at it with unknowledgeable eyes, quietly muttering that "It don't look too good," before they're accosted by another dozy official. He's not good at lying, and his eyes turn towards the pilot, not entirely sure she's that skilled in the art of deception either.
Trillian turns to look at Corr, her eyes wide. Honestly, she hadn't expected that somebody would be guarding the ship. After a second, she turns back to the bored looking human. "Um... I um... was wondering if... um..." she stammers, flushing red. The human turns another page on the clipboard and squints at the writing before looking Corr up and down. "... Are you," the man looks at the clipboard again, "Carloz Mendioza? The fashion designer, yeah? Yeah... You're late. You just missed Captain Baine. Go ahead in and check your cargo," the man says, turning the clipboard around and proffering a pen to Corr.
Corr Waldin tests his Bluff skill at a 100 difficulty.
"The what?" Corr questions blankly, his eyes blinking in utter confusion, but then there's a pen being shoved at him and he just takes it and makes an X sign somewhere on the sheet. There ya go, port authority. "Uh, yeah. There. Checked in." An unshielded glare is shot at Trillian for dragging him into this. "This is my uh. Model. Mannequin. Thing. Assistant. Yeah." A pause. "She's mute."
Trillian smiles tightly as the human male rolls his eyes, takes back his clipboard and goes back to lounging at his post, reading whatever passes for Star Wars reddit, and ignoring Corr and Trillian. Gripping Corr's arm tigher, Trillian drags the reluctant, now fashion-designer, towards the freighter. There are several durasteel crates arrayed on the platform, awaiting loading into the belly of the freighter. Trillian, casting another eye at the guard who is completely not paying attention, grabs a datapad on the top of one of the crates and flips through the manifest. She looks confused as she pages through the contents. "... strange... These really are... clothes?" Trillian looks at Corr in confusion.
"Well they're not /my/ style," Corr comments back seriously, eying a bright maroon sarong. "But yeah, looks like it. Maybe you got your mute tongue tied over nothin'," he advises, crossing his arms bad-temperedly over his chest. "I'm not breakin' into that ship with you without a good reason, and this is not a good reason." He glances down again. "...although that robe-thing is pushin' it."
Trillian stares at the manifest and broods, flipping idly through the pages. "... It says here that all these are to be delivered to Coruscant... This is... well... hm... " Trillian muses, starting and stopping a half dozen times. "... Corr, you have to believe me. This is very odd, ok? The Deng Baine I knew openly flew weapons, drugs, illegal tech, even slaves. He's cocky. He's a bastard. He always thought that legitimate gigs weren't worth the credits. Why this cargo now then? And why from Nar Shaddaa? It's not like... not like the planet is known for it's haute couture." She pulls out a small jack from a computer on her wrist and plugs it into the datapad.
Trillian Taim tests her Computer Use skill at a 100 difficulty.
Trillian Taim tests her Computer Use skill at a 105 difficulty.
"Maybe Hutt fashion is in?" Corr doesn't know anything about haute couture. What is that, exactly? "Just do your computer thing and then we're leaving." As long as she can get something done before someone notices; if not they're leaving early.
Trillian looks at the screen in wide-eyed horror and then slowly looks at Corr. "um... oops?" she says in a small voice. Trillian looks back down at the datapad and starts typing again. "um... I may have... um... accidently deleted... the manifest. Look um.. do me a favor and just keep an eye out. I need to see if I can pull a backup." Looking over at the guard, he yawns hugely and waves sleepily at the duo to see if they're still doing OK. "Corr, open up the crate and pretend like you're checking it or something!"
"Fine," Corr relents, stepping over toward the crates with a thump of his boots, and jamming calloused fingertips under the edge of the box to prise the lid open. Who knows what's in there, and he takes a moment to sigh his exasperation with this situation into the air before he actually looks into it.
Trillian Taim tests her Computer Use skill at a 140 difficulty.
As Corr opens the crate, he finds a riotous collection of colors and fabrics. They run the range of long, slinky dresses to short, swatches of fabric, perhaps a swimsuit? Or evening wear? Whichever, they seem to be extremely non-utilitarian. The crate itself is unremarkable, no hidden panels or false bottoms.
Trillian, furiously typing on a small keyboard sighs with relief and puts the datapad back where she found it. She comes over to where Corr is holding up a slinky mini-dress and staring at it. Blinking, she covers her mouth with her hand and giggles silently. "It's... it's not your color, Corr," she says gently, and then pushes past him to look through the crate.
"My bust is bigger than that anyway," he agrees, shoving the garment back into the crate on top of her hands while she's sorting through. She's very pushy today, this Trillian girl, a thought that crosses his mind as his face screws slightly to the left.
"... I just don't get it. I mean... take a look. These fabrics. Most of these fabrics here are off-world fabrics. Are you telling me that somebody is deliberately importing fabrics to Nar Shaddaa to create... these... pieces?" Trillian says, holding up another garish creation. Even if you don't know anything about fashion, the quality and type of clothes in this crate are questionable at best. "And then sending them BACK to the Core? Where most of these fabrics come from in the first place? Doesn't... doesn't that seem ODD?"
"If you say it does," replies Troglodyte Corr, glancing around while she sifts through what appears, to him, to be clothing. "I don't see anything else in the crate, though. So unless he's got hidden compartments somewhere that we ain't got time to find, I'm not sure what else you want to do here." His palms itch, and he wipes those hands on his trousers, not liking that they're still in this close of proximity to the ship and snooping where they're not allowed for apparently no reason.
"No... there's definitely something else going on here... I just don't know what..." Trillian mused again, picking up another garish dress and looking at it grimacing. She looks up at Corr, and then the blood drains from her face as she looks past his shoulder. Fumbling, she puts the dress back in the crate and hides behind Corr.
The man that Trillian had identified earlier was striding back to the landing pad. The Duros and Rodian were conspicuously absent however. The man stops at the guard, who waves sleepily in their general direction. The man looks across the pad and stares directly at Corr and Trillian.
Well, look at that. They overstayed their welcome. "...this is the last time I follow you anywhere," Corr mutters to Trillian as the fellow in the nice coat looks over in their direction, his lips pursed into a thin line.
Trillian mouths the word 'sorry' to the soldier as she closes the crate and tries to stay behind Corr as the man approaches. The man swaggers over to where Corr is standing with Trillian with a cocky strut. His head is close-shaven, and he sports a long, stringy mustache and beard. His eyes are sallow, sunken and his complexion is pale... the sign of somebody who spends a lot of time in space, and not planetside. As the man stops in front of Corr, a whiff of sourness assails the senses. "You're Mendioza?" he asks, looking Corr over. "You don't look like a fashion designer."
Corr Waldin tests his Bluff skill at a 100 difficulty.
"I ain't," Corr replies gruffly, his arms crossed over his chest as he stubbornly faces the other man, unperturbed by the sour smell. "Port authority contractor, here to load your shit onto your shit." There's no way he's gonna convince anyone he's a fashionista. "This your shit?"
The man wrinkles his face and scowls at Corr. He mutters under his breath and looks him up and down. "... What are you doing here? We paid already," he says bluntly. Reaching up, he scratches at a patch of dry skin under his chin. His hand shakes a bit and his eyes dart from side to side. "They said you was already taken care of. Why are you hassling me now?"
"No payment, I'm just here to move your shit," Corr explains, with another liberal dose of the word shit. "Where you want this shit shat out to?" the ex-soldier questions, thumbing back at said shit. "Bossman told me you needed this shit shifted, so just say the word."
The man blinks, trying to make sense of what was in front of him. "You're not here for an inspection?" the man chuckles under his breath, he pulls himself up to look imperious and gestures grandly towards the crates. "Well, then... boy. Get these on the ship. And be careful with them, otherwise I'll tell your boss how much you're shirking." The man laughs to himself and turns on his heel. He pauses a second, turns back and peers behind Corr. "... who's this? You.... you look familiar... I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." Trillian is nearly hyperventilating at this point.
(Players 3 and 4 have joined!)
Lord Eebua's Starport. A wretched hive of scu... Ok, maybe it's not actually that bad. But it's a starport. A starport on Nar Shaddaa. And Nar Shaddaa isn't the nicest place in the universe. It's a slightly overcast day, with a miserable drizzle that adds to the general discontent of the populace. The concourse is already packed with all manner of species as they go about their daily business. Boarding, disembarking, loading, unloading, talking in a babble of a million tongues. On a small landing pad off the main drag, a battered YT-2000 freighter sits, awaiting cargo.
"Well, shit's m'job here, movin' it, puttin' up with it, et cetera," Corr replies vaguely, gesturing in an abstract sense with one distracted hand. He does look like manual labor would be right up his alley, so it's not a hard stretch of the imagination to picture him as a deckhand or stevedor. "/That/ is the bossman's lackey who makes sure I don't steal nothin'," the grizzled ex-soldier advises, when Baine, the YT's captain, enquires after Trillian's identity. "She's mute. Talkin' gets her real antsy."
Trillian hides behind Corr more, but the foul-stenched man in front of Corr grabs her arm and pulls her forward. He leers at her, his eyes roaming her petite frame. Trillian shrieks a bit, hand clamped over her mouth and eyes wild as the captain pulls her from behind Corr. "You look familiar..." he muses, stroking his chin. "... pretty little thing like you... Hm... Talia... no.. wait... Teagan.... maybe... Tritium?" the man says, trying to brush the hair out of her face.
"Um.... no!" Trillian says forcefully, and pushes at the captain. She quickly dodges back behind Corr and grips his arm fiercely.
Corr's expression sours, much like the air around the leering captain before him. This takes the form of a small, tense frown. "Gonna have to ask you to back off, sir. Bossman don't like his lackeys gettin' all groped up and whatnot. You understand." Trillian's grip on his arm, from behind, is used to steer the woman back toward the starport's exit as Waldin begins to slowly back away, seeking a peaceful resolution to this unfortunate encounter. Never get a caf with Trillian.
Corr Waldin tests his Intimidate skill at a 100 difficulty.
"We should go now," whispers Trillian to Corr, backing away with him. The captain takes a look at the duo and shrugs casually. "Whatever... I probably sold a sibling or something... Let me know if hanging out with the boy scout here gets boring, little one. I'll show you a fun time," he leers at Trillian. Then looking at Corr, he shakes his head in the direction of the crates. "... and you, get those on board," he says, though a little shaken by the steely gaze of the soldier. Turning on his heel, the captain walks up the ramp of the freighter, scratching at his neck and twitching again.
Corr waits until the captain is up the ramp before he reclaims his arm from Trillian, turning away from the ship. "Yeh, I'm not loadin' that shit," he murmurs, shaking his head. "Let's go. I'm not getting you out of any more messes today." His heavy boots already are thumping out a peeved rhythm on the duracrete.
Trillian takes one last look at the crates, and then follows after Corr, pocketing something. She runs after the tall soldier, nearly stumbling while trying to keep up. The duo quickly walk into the concourse and make their way into the crowd. Trillian looks over at Corr, and is taken aback by how upset he looks. "um... Corr?" she asks quietly. Not sure if he heard her or not, she clears her throat and tries again. "Corr? Um..."
"What?" Corr doesn't look that upset; not much more than usual, anyway. It's just a small, tight downturn of the mouth. "You got somethin' to say then spit it out, Trillian. You knew what kinda man he was and you still wanted to snoop in his stuff, and now he knows my face, so if you think I can poke around anonymously into what he might be doin', you're wrong. I'll have to have one of my people do it, but I can't, cause we got no cause to suspect him."
A blonde woman an be seen walking up the ramp toward the docking bays. She is dressed casually but a keen eye would notice that even her relaxed posture and pace suggests she is probably former military. Glancing around she seems to have caught just the end of the interaction between the other ex soldier and the captain. It's really none of her affair but given that they were just speaking with a man that was likely a ship captain, she turns toward the two, seeking to approach easily. Her hands remain in sight. "Excuse me..." she says as she addresses Corr.
"um... I just... um... I just wanted to say... thank you," Trillian says, hanging her head, appreciating that Corr has slowed down a bit in his stomping. "Sorry... if... um... sorry if I... um... inconvenienced you... I didn't... um... I didn't mean for you to get in trouble." Trillian sighs heavily and looks up as a blonde woman has suddenly appeared in front of them. "Oh!" Trillian exclaims in surprise.
"Yeah, well-" Corr starts, ready to berate Trillian some more, because no one enjoys chewing folks out more than an old sergeant, but he's not that old and she's thanking him. "...yeah, well. Don't mention it. And don't get yourself into trouble again. Thought I told you that before." Then abruptly, a blonde woman is accosting him, and his eyes turn up to her face, widening with surprise at finding someone nice to look at on Nar Shaddaa. It does happen, but it's a shock every time. "Uh. Hey."
Juno Eclipse nods to Trillian, offering a smile, then looks back to Corr. "Yes, sorry to interrupt. I noticed that you were speaking to the captain of that ship and, well.. " She shrugs a little, "I couldn't help but wonder if you knew whether there were any ships looking to hire on more crew while in port?" Her accent is Core and distinctive enough to place the planet if one knew enough about such things.
Trillian looks up sharply at the young woman and shakes her head vehemently. "No. Not that ship. Definitely not that ship," she blurts out holding out both hands. "In fact... stay as far away from that ship as you can... no good will come of it." Trillian blushes as she realizes that she may have said that louder than she thought she should have. "I mean... um.... sorry..."
"I'd ask around, but there's always someone hirin', I'd wager," Corr replies vaguely to the woman. "I don't fly much, so I'm sorry I can't be more help. More on the ground sorta things," he clarifies apologetically, glancing back at Trillian and her omg nervous STAYBACK-ness and raising an eyebrow. "And uh. Stay away from that one, I guess." A thumb indicates the YT they've just come from. "I got to get going. Due back at the office." This was his 'lunch break.' So saying, he fades into the crowd.
Juno Eclipse listens to Trillian's vehement outburst without reacting, just nodding slowly. She then nods to Corr. "Yes. Thank you. And... I'll keep that in mind." She glances to the YT as if to memorize it then looks to Trillian, "The captain was causing some sort of trouble, was he?"
Trillian shakes her head. "No... that captain IS trouble. Just... just... be careful." She does cock her head curiously at the young woman in front of her. "Are you new to Nar Shaddaa? Just passing through? Are you a pilot?"
Juno Eclipse nods thoughtfully at the statement. "I see. And, thank you. I will be careful." She casts an unhurried glance about the starport as she responds, "Yes, just a week or so ago actually." She smiles faintly and nods, "I can fly." She looks to the ships in visible in port. "Nothing I see here would leave me feeling concerned about my abilities, I suppose you could say. And you two? I gather you're not crew given your associate's reaction to my first question.."
"Ahh... well, welcome to Nar Shaddaa. It's... um... well... um... it's... here," says Trillian helpfully. "Um... I'm not.... I mean... I'm um... well, I work at a bar... in the Corellian district. The Blue Light?" She nods and holds up her data pad. "If you want, I could point you in the direction of somebody that I've heard is looking for people to help crew his ship. He's a good guy, bit of a rogue, if you ask me... But he runs a solid crew."
Trillian has all kinds of associates, associates for days, and here comes another. Tall, green, alien, tattoos, obnoxious red-flowered duster jacket. "You only work at the bar because you continue to persist in working at the bar, ai'jou," Hex dryly drops into Trilly's conversation there. "You /could/ just be like the rest of Defiance, and only perform whatever nominal function I use when I drop you into danger. You don't have to be a waitress. Who's your friend?"
Juno Eclipse nods to Trillian. "I'm familiar with Nar Shaddaa. It isn't my first time here, though it's been a while." She then nods affirmatively. "I can over look a rogue's actions - most of the time anyway. Just as long as I'm dealt with fairly." She then looks up as the large Twi'lek approaches, her gaze sizing him up quickly. "I'm... not sure that she'd classify me as a friend, quite yet. But she seems the friendly sort at least?"
Trillian looks up at the familiar voice and immediately brightens. "Hex!" she calls out, turning around and wrapping both arms around the tall Twi'lek and hugging him tightly. It's been a bit of a nervous day for Trillian, so seeing somebody friendly is a much needed relief. She silently sobs into his obnoxiously flowered overcoat for a minute, and then lets him go, wiping tears from her face but with a relieved look on her face. "... um... sorry... I um... sorry. This is... um... " Trillian trails off for a second as she realizes that she doesn't even know the young woman's name. Turning, she sticks out a hand. "Um... I didn't introduce myself. I'm Trillian. Trillian Taim." As she sticks out her hand, her chronometer beeps a friendly reminder at her. "Oh... um... I'm supposed to... I mean... um.... I need to... uh... sorry," Trillian stammers and then looks helplessly at Juno and Hex. "Oh wait, I know! Hex, can you maybe help my friend here? She's looking for some work. Maybe you can point her in some good directions?" Turning back to the other pilot, she smiles. "This is Hex. You can trust him. He's a good guy. Anyway,... Good luck! I'll see you around!"