Log Date: 11/26/99 Log Cast: Zenani, "Vykk Draygo" (Han Solo), Minas Log Intro: With enough credits, you can find... or lose... anything on the Smugglers' Moon, up to and including an identity if you're on the run and desperate enough. But when you haven't lost your identity on purpose, when you are in fact desperate and struggling to recall scraps of self, there are few worse places to be in the galaxy than Nar Shaddaa. And the man currently calling himself "Vykk Draygo" knows it. It has been days since he awoke in an alley with no recollection of his own name or how he came to be injured, and only the consideration of a passing beautiful stranger has gotten him to a medical center. Getting _out_ of the medical center has been the happy result of an encounter with a strange, near-mute young woman who has managed to give him one clue: the name 'Han'. But his mysterious young benefactor seems a chancy source of information at best -- and for all that "Draygo" cannot remember his name, his own restless temperament is stirring up and pushing him out to find that which he has lost. Even if it means encountering more strangers who seem mysteriously amused by running into him. Like a woman currently calling herself Zenani. And although Draygo does not remember it, a woman he has met before when she had a different name and a different appearance entirely. And, furthermore, a woman with a taste for danger... and a raw talent for the Force.... ---------- Han_Solo(#1491POUA) This tall, rangy man has apparently been recently injured, for there is a magnificent spreading bruise over his left eye, purple and brown surrounding a still-healing, nasty-looking gash. His hair is a light golden brown, cut pragmatically short, but thick and thoroughly disheveled; his features are ruggedly handsome despite their haggard state, with a bronzed tan that sets off his sandy hair and sky blue eyes. As he takes in his surroundings, his gaze alternates between sharply suspicious and oddly disoriented, and he speaks in a low, rough baritone voice. He is currently clad in a non-descript dark brown shirt of a coarse weave, held securely round his waist by a battered utility belt off which is slung a blaster holster at his thigh. His trousers are dark green, tucked into scuffed boots of a more or less medium brown hue, showing much wear. Over the shirt he sports a loose jacket of a slate green, sporting a collar turned up behind his neck and a number of pockets at the chest and along the sleeves. Traces of bloodstains are visible along his upper left shoulder and the collar of his jacket where blood from the apparent wound to his brow must have reached, though he is otherwise relatively clean. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol => 90 Galactic Standard Credits Zenani enters the tavern from off the street. Zenani has arrived. D-3PO turns his head toward Zenani slowly, then slowly turns away again. The Smuggler's Rest - Corellian Sector A popular inn, The Smuggler's Rest is crowded with being discussing business, old times, and future adventures. A fire pit keeps the center of the room warm and inviting, casting shadows along the edges of the tavern for conversations that require greater discretion. Tables, booths, and chairs are scattered throughout the open room. A long bar stretches along one side of the room, the 'tender behind it working at a rapid pace to keep the partrons contented. Waitresses move about the room, serving mainly drinks, but there is a small kitchen that offers simple, but by the scent of it, tasty fare. Still, it is not a place to let your guard down. There are visible stains here and there that do not smack of liquor or food. (OOC note: Type to use the place code) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Zenani => D-3PO -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ut leads to Corellian Sector. Somehow, he's fairly sure he knows this place even aside from it being the location he happened to be in when he woke up some days ago. But after days of being in his strange young benefactor's care, the man who's been calling himself Vykk Draygo -- at least when publically asked -- has come no closer to figuring out what's happened to him to leave him in the state he's in. Moreover, dealing with the fact that his benefactor seems incapable of normal speech has made extracting information from her a painstaking process, one that's only exacerbated the headache he's still got a ghost of even now. And thus, 'Vykk Draygo' has crept out of his rescuer's little apartment, in search of a quiet drink. He's sitting slouched at a table by the wall, nursing a Corellian ale and managing to look fairly inconspicuous by his general state of dishevelment. Eyes turn to Zenani and a quiet murmur from the tables near the door as she enters the smuggler's rest. This is a woman that not only slugged one of the local high rollers, but she lived to tell it. A combination of her exotic appearance and her predatory gait holds the attention of several human - and some non human- males that set eyes on her. Unlike the scruffy Corellian at the back table, Zenani's appearance and presence cause her to stand out from the crowd and from the slight smirk that crosses her lips, she appears to enjoy the attention to some extent. Slowly, Zenani begins to cross the bar, keeping a close eye on anyone or anything that might try to pick her pocket and giving several beings a look that could bring an ice age to Tatooine. Zenani Standing tall at around 5'11" and extremeley well built, this human woman appears to have quite an imposing presence. The woman's skin is tanned and her features are fairly attractive by human standards but her eyes are quite unusual. Zenani's irises are a firey amber, outlined and flecked with darker orange. As she blinks, it's clear that these eyes are real, and that the pupils are slitted, giving this woman a bestial edge. Her reddish brown hair is cropped short, it falls just over her ears and her bangs fall over her forehead in a manner that gives her a slightly disshelved appearance. Zenani rarely smiles, but if one is so lucky as to catch her without a scowl, the smiles rarely reach her slitted eyes. A relatively clingly, black outfit graces Zenani's powerful, and athletic form. Her top is half covered by a new, dark brown nerfhide jacket which is long enough to reach her hips. A utility belt is slung casually around her waist and contains such useful items as a datapad, tools and an ornate, yet well used, vibroblade. Strapped to her thigh is a heavy blaster. The orange eyed woman moves with the gait and deliberation of a predator on the prowl. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest => Vibro-Knife => DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol => Medpack -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Datapad(#7924V) Draygo's gaze swings the way of the striking female who makes her way into the bar -- and he smirks quietly to himself as he spots her. She's no more familiar to him than anyone else in this place, but it relieves him at least somewhat that he's still able to recognize beauty when he sees it, as well as a clearly dangerous edge. Though the woman herself is not familiar, her type is, and he finds himself suddenly beset by indistinct flashes of recollection: himself, somewhere back in his memory, tangling with similar tall dangerous females. Blue eyes narrow over the top of his mug, and he lowers it unthinkingly, giving the woman a distracted frown without actively thinking of it. Something tugs at Zenani's mind, a different feeling amid the sea of emotion in the room. Her icy gaze pulls away from a drunken human who has suddenly taken it upon himself to spout some rather poor pickup line at Zenani and her gaze moves across the room to Vykk. As though someone tied a string between her eyes and the scruffy, injured one at the far table, The dangerous woman saunters over, a small amused smile crossing her lips, toyed by the slight feeling of duiscomfort she's picking up from this particular individual, "Trouble with a woman?" she asks, with a smooth, sarcastic and chilling voice that is most definately feminine. One of her hands points noncomittally to Vykk's injuries and she studies the man carefully. Something familiar about him.. Draygo lowers his mug, but doesn't alter his slouch in his chair. His dark eyebrows go up, the gaze of the blue eyes beneath them rising up to meet the slitted amber regard directed toward him. The sardonic tone provokes an edged lopsided smile into being across that lean tanned face. "Yeah, well, I didn't duck fast enough," he drawls. It isn't truth and he knows it -- but a flicker of wariness in him counsels watching his mouth. If he can't remember what had happened to put him into that alley, there's no telling what might have happened... or who might have been responsible for putting him there. A chilly tickle brushes across the surface of Draygo's mind as Zenani's eyes are locked with those of the man across the table, her pupils momentairly become even more slitted. As fast as the chill sdrifts around the table, it recedes, and Zenani's hand trail down the form of Vykk, scanning him with the intense look of a hunter seeking prey, committing as much detail as she can to memory. One of her hands motions in a semi flourish to a chair, "I'd like to join you. It's unhealthy to drink alone..." Now that was definately not a question, it's obvious that she intends to sit, whether the current table occupant likes it or not. Half truths, uncertainty, familiarity.. her interest is certainly piqued. "It's a free..." Pause. Country? World? Moon? It occurs to Draygo all of a sudden that he can't remember whether he's on a moon or a planet, and for a fraction of an instant he falters before coming up with a save: "...bar. Have a seat, sweetheart." His drawl remains relaxed, but now his expression is guarded as he tosses a nod at the seat across from him. Zenani pulls the chair away from the table and she takes a seat. One hand disappears beneath her jacket and she offers a slight smile to Draygo that doesn't reach her eyes. She pauses long enough to get /most/ people paranoid and then pulls out a cigara, placing it between her lips, "Thank you, mister..." As she retrieves a lighter and ignuites the top of the cigara, her eyes focus on the familiar man across the table, fishing for a name. Most people -- and at the moment, this disheveled individual is included in 'most'. A chill splashes down his spine again, but to his credit, he keeps his nervousness out of his voice and face, saying only, "Draygo. Howsabout you, sweetheart?" This endearment is delivered almost unthinkingly, dipping down into the gravelly lower end of his vocal register, while he eyes this strange woman over the top of his mug. Definately in character with the cat eyes, Zenani purrs, "You can call me Zen." This time, when she smiles, it dances to her eyes. Can it be? Thoughts race through Zenani's head and she takes a puff from her cigara, "You remind me of someone, Draygo.." she says, tilting her head to one side and regarding him appraisingly, "Have we met before?" The lopsided smile grows a little larger; this man, despite whatever nasty blow he must have taken to give him that spread of bruising across his brow, is apparently not insensible to the purr of a woman's voice and a glitter like that in a woman's eyes. Still, though -- somewhere behind that lopsided smile of his seems to be a barely detectable flicker of nervousness. "Can't say that we have, doll," he rumbles in reply. "I'm sure I'd remember a looker like you." The cat eyed woman turns her gaze away from Draygo for a moment, searching for a serving droid. When one passes close by, she snaps her arm out and grabs it. The droid jerks to a stop suddenly, sending a trayload of empty glasses to the ground with a deafening crescendo, "One Corellian Brandy.. Makeit fast.." Before the droid can respond, Zenani has tossed a couple of credits to the machine and turns back to Draygo, her eyes catching the light at such an angle that they glow for a moment. "Hmm.. perhaps I'm mistaken then.." she scaratches her chin and motions to the bruise, "or perhaps, whoever did that to you knocked the memory of me clean out of your head." Again, the chill engulfs the far table. The crash of the serving droid's burden to the floor doesn't seem to faze Draygo much -- but at the mention of memories that might have been knocked out of his head there comes, for a fraction of a heartbeat, a flare of nervousness behind those otherwise calm blue eyes. Draygo pulls down a long draught of his ale, trying to hide the dismay roiling up in him, and taking his eyes off Zen momentarily. Then that crooked grin flashes up again, quicker than before. "What," he drawls nonchalantly, "I can't have just never seen you before?" In a chillingly unusual display of emotion, Zenani grins, he can't remember.. which makes her trip much more enjoyable. The chill loses its intensity, but there's something that still lingers. Something just ain't quite right about this woman, but then again, the same could be said about trhe majority of people on this accursed moon, "Oh, I suppose you could say that, you just bear a striking resemblance to someone that I know. It's uncanny.. never mind, perhaps yuou have a twin somewhere you don't know about." Again there comes a faint ripple of unease behind Draygo's eyes; oh, he's already wondered if he has family somewhere, though it seems to him that he's at least half-certain he doesn't. Most of the half-formed recollections floating free in his mind show him connected to no one. And so, with reasonable surety, he lazily responds, "Nah, doll, don't think so." With a guileless expression, he suggests, "Maybe I just got one of them really average faces." One of Zenani's hands reaches across the table and she touches Draygo's cheek, her touch is cool, it's almost as though she's appraising a gem, more than a human being. "You are hardly average, Draygo.. if not for the bruise on your forehead, you might even be handsome. You should let someone look at that." she begins to draw her hand away, a grating metallic voice chimes "enjoy your drink' as the brandy is deposited on the table. At the brush of that hand along his cheek, Draygo draws in a soft breath -- no, this man isn't quite invulnerable to female attention. But he keeps a credible grasp on his composure all the same while he rasps out, "I'm fine, sweetheart. Been to a med center anyway." Zenani raises her eyebrows and sits back, taking a puff from her cigara and holding the brandy in one hand, "The least you could do is get yourself some new clothes. Wearing that much blood on you either implies that you're an easy hit, or tough.. depending on who's looking at you." The cat eyed woman tilts her head to one side, regarding Draygo curiously, the smile tracing her lips again, "I know where you can get some decent clothes for a decent price.." "Maybe I'm tough," comes Draygo's drawl. Amusement glints again in his sky-colored eyes; he's still meeting the catlike stare being levelled at him, without flinching. But still, somewhere, somehow... there's that flavor of nervousness hiding down there within his thoughts. Now there's a challenge.. "Maybe you're not.. maybe you're just lucky?" a smile dances across her gaze ans she takes a sip of the brandy, and then makes a face, "Blasted droid.. this is crap..." hse expression sours and she flicks the ashes from her cigara slightlky as she pushes the glass away, "Perhaps you'd like to test the tough theory? I'm always more than willing to put tough guys in their place.." "That depends," Draygo answers, deadpan. He's finished off his ale, and he can feel the alcohol settling into his system, easing away the headache. Still lazily slouched in his seat, he leans an elbow on the table, his hand idly playing with the empty mug he holds; his fingertips run round its rim. A small sign of nervous energy, perhaps? "What do you think a tough guy's place is, doll?" The energy coming from Draygo fuels Zen and she leans foreward, her eyes narrowing and a deliciously evil grin crossing her face. She points to the ground to emphasize her point, "At my feet." she says, there is nothing to her tone but confidence. She flexes her hand and lowers her voice, "And sometimes that's not such a bad place to be.." Draygo's grin curls his mouth again -- though unlike the smiles Zen's been flashing him, his still doesn't make it up to his eyes. There's interest in that azure stare, aye, but there's wariness too... and that flavor of uneasiness, barely detectable. But there. "I dunno, sweetheart. I rather like standin' up." Confidence meets confidence, a look of almost airy amusement the answer to that evil grin. Zenani chuckles and rises from her seat tossing her cigara to the ground, still lit. Without any further warning, Zenani sweeps her hand across the table and sends her half filled glass of brandy towards Draygo. Zenani's face takes on a momentarily intense expression and the crimson liquid splatters towards Draygo as the glass shatters. Funny, it didn't look like she pinged the glass /that/ hard. . "I accept your challenge." she says, a wry smirk on her face. "What th--" Consternation flashes across the man's lean rugged face -- and then irritation as he's splattered with the alcohol. Wait a minute, since when did a flirtation turn into having a drink knocked over on him? As near as Draygo can remember, usually having a drink dumped on him comes after _he_ has issued a flirtation attempt and has had it rejected. Now, though, his expression shifts into a edged smirk of his own. "Real lousy way of persuading a guy to take his clothes off, doll," he growls, rising to his feet. From the look on the predator's face, it's clear that she is enjoying the beginning of this scuffle. Perhaps this is her way of flirting with men, "Oh please..." she says, circling around the table and watching Draygo carefully, waiting for some form of reaction to her cominc gloser, "Don't think yourself rejected just yet...." One of her hands snaps foreward, in an attempt to apply a simple slap to Draygo's face, just hard enough to sting if it isn't incercepted. From the playful expression on her face, it's clear that Zenani isn't issuing a challenge to the death. Oh, it's intercepted all right. Draygo's left hand shoots up to snag that incoming hand by the wrist; with that, he starts trying to lever the woman away from him, his arm starting to unfold to push hers back towards her. Uninterested in having even a minor new pain added in on top of his headache, he glowers at this creature who apparently likes it rough. A few pairs of eyes start turning in the direction of the scuffle, but as of yet, no one's interested enough to do more than let out a hoot of amusement or a raucous insult. "Do I look like I'm worried?" comes his next growl. The cat eyed woman vilters everything out of the room except Draygo, the cheers and hoots become distant echos and she twists her wrist in an attemot to pull out of Draygo's grip. Her free hand darts towards Dragygo with amazing speed, the target: his belly. The reaction to her slap was all she needed, had he not fought back, she would have backed off.. but no, this is certainly someone with fire in his soul. "No, you're doing just fine.." Draygo has a hand free too, though, and he aims it to intercept that other hand, getting a grip -- but only a tentative one as he wrestles with his self-elected opponent. "You," he grunts, "got a real strange idea of foreplay, honey..." "Oooh.. you're a fast one.." Zen growls playfully. She plants her feet firmly to the flooor and twists uer upper body, attempting to throw Draygo off balance, whoever Zen is, she's stronger than the average woman, "If you like, we can take this somewhere else, tough guy..." Her eyes glow as they catch the light again. The murmur of the crowd, beings placing bets and the cheers become louder as Zenani draws her attention from Vykk, searching for sopmething else.. yes.. a chair! Minas enters the tavern from off the street. Minas has arrived. D-3PO turns his head and glances momentarily at Minas with curiosity as he enters the area. Minas steps into the tavern and his dark blue eyes flick from right to left. Minas' lips curl up at the ends as he continues into the tavern and proceeds towards the countertop on the side, his cloak billowing out behind him. Apparently, it's a lively night in the Smuggler's Rest. There's a sandy-haired man over there apparently _wrestling_ with a tall statuesque woman, the man grimacing in annoyance, the woman grinning in what might almost be delight. Fast, yes. He remembers that; it feels right. "Draygo" grimaces, needing to thrust a foot back behind him to try to keep his balance as Zenani twists herself in his grasp. His reflexes are good -- but apparently not fully up to par, undoubtedly due to that injury he took to his head. "Let's just say I got a problem with gettin' a drink poured on me, sweetheart," he gasps, stumbling slightly. Minas grabs a stool at the bar and raps his fingers on it for a while. The Quarren's tentacles waver in the air, fully extended. Minas waits for the bartender to walk past him before pulling out a small credit piece and holding it in the air. The bartender jerks his head up and asks, "Need something?" Minas bows his head down and then says in a soft voice, "A Calamari Blue, shaken." The bartender nods and proceeds to make the drink, giving it to Minas a minute or so later. The cat eyed woman hears Draygo's words as a distant, familiar drone as she concentrates on the chair behind him, her twisted stance going slack as she seems to zone out for a moment, leavining her vulnerable... but then the chair moves towards Draygo, not at any incredible speed or force, but enough to bump distractingly against his legs and perhaps to cause him to stumble and release his grip. Zenani takes a deep breath and her mind remains fuzzy even after the chair is moved. Minas grabs the tall thin glass filled with a glowing dark blue drink. There is a glass stirrer in the drink and Minas simply takes it out and then tilts back his head a little while he raises the drink to his lips, taking a healthy drink from it. He returns the stirrer into the glass. Apparently, Draygo's not actually interested in striking the woman -- merely in keeping her from striking him. But as that chair approaches him seemingly of its own accord, he does in fact stumble, his attention diverted. What the -- where did that come from? Minas swings his attention around the tavern, examining the occupants forr a while as he drinks his Calamari Blue idly. The fuzziness in Zen's mind slowlyt begins to drift away and she takes a step back, tilting her head and regarding Draygo curiously, "You realise that you are no fun at all.." says, her tone mocking. For some reason her breathign is heavy, as though she has undergone a great deal of exertion, although the pair have barely fought, "Come on.. take a swipe at me, you know you want to.. it's a most satisfying experience.." For a moment, Draygo wants to growl that he doesn't hit women -- though it occurs to him that he has no idea _why_ he wants to say that, and at any rate, his temper is rising. Glowering at the chair, he kicks it away from himself, fingers flexing, blue gaze sharpening and snapping to Zenani's face. His smirk goes as edged as a vibro-knife, his voice lower and more rasping. "Far be it from me to say no to a lady...!" And with that, he lunges for her, intending to try to seize her by the shoulders and whip her around to sit her into that chair. The anger pulsing from Draygo gives Zenani the playful attitude of a kitten, a grin crosses her face and she senses some form of attack, bracing for it, but being taken off guard buy the fact that it was /noyt/ a punch or a kick, or any other violent attack, but a grasp to her shoulders. Instantly Zenani tenses, trying to fight back from this possibly embarrassing predicament until she realises that she actually may have Draygo right where she wants him. Due to her struggling, she lands on the chair at a rather uncomfortable angle, but she doens't show any anger.. just a really sick grin, "See.." she half whispers, "you're learning." "I'm learnin' I think I'll take my drinkin' elsewhere," Draygo grumbles. "No more foreplay, honey. Sit!" To punctuate his command he thrusts a forefinger out at her, then starts to edge away, unwilling to put his back to this woman until he's put some distance between them as well. The grin on her face widening, Zenani rises from the chair, staring intently at Draygo again, "Wow.. I'm amazed you've survived on Nar Shaddaa with an attitude like that... People nowadays, have no sense of adventure. She shakes her head and makes a tsking noise, her hand reaching into her jacket wnd fumbling around, she frowns. "Dammit..." she mutters, her attention brifly shooting to her unhealthy nicotine addiction, "Perhaps you're not my type.. for a tough guy, you're quite soft. If you want to get anywhere in life, you have to learn to play a little more dirty.." Disgusted, Draygo sneers, "Sorry honey, I'm a little off tonight, but hey, I got a headache." And with that, he turns to stalk out of the bar, deliberately ignoring the catcalls a lot of the other patrons are still shooting his way, and ignoring as well the credits changing hands of assorted species. As he turns, he presses his eyes closed for a moment, a subtle signal that his snapped remark isn't entirely without truth. But that's all the outward sign of pain he allows himself to show as he stalks for the door. The cat eyed woman leans back in her chair and laughs, then she talks to herself, "Sometimes even the little fights are worth it.." she tilts foreward and watches Draygo as he leaves, her eyes boring into his back as she makes a blaster pistol gesture with her hand, making a blaster noise as she pretends to shoot at the departing figure. "I'll have you some day, she murmurs.." and then scans the room for that server drod that screwed up her order, she needs something to beat the crap out of. [End log.]