The Rebel Faction

“That’s it ?!”

“Deal’s a deal. You don’t provide the service, you don’t get the money.”

Viktoriya bit down onto her lip, her fingers frantically thumbing through the meager sum of credits that had just been thrust roughly into her palms for a second time, eyes widened with disbelief. The man who lay swathed in a cocoon of white sheets behind her watched on nonchalantly, the faintest traces of a smirk forming at the corners of his parched mouth as he observed her shoulders quiver with dismay, almost as though he took pleasure in her humiliation. Even amidst the wordless mockery, he managed to take note of the sudden opening, and seized the opportunity to slide his hand along the curvature of the girl’s naked spine. Her back shivered, but other than the sheer physicality of it, she seemed to pay no mind to his prying hands; instead, she closed her eyes, heaved a shuddering yet muted sigh, and nodded with dejected acceptance.

Brushing aside a vagrant lock of blonde-black hair from her face, she slipped her legs over the edge of the bed, displacing the man’s fingers from where it had settled over her buttocks. Chuckling, he turned to rest on his back once again, his hands now occupied with the task of lighting a cigarette. As Viktoriya finished pulling up her knee-length socks and strapping her boot buckles in place, she hesitantly canted her head in his direction and lowered her gaze to the mattress, and, reducing her voice to a slight whisper, mouthed a tentative question.

“Well, could you at least give me a ride to the--”

He snapped. “Who’s paying who again ? I’m not your fucking cabbie.” The man’s words resonated violently throughout the supposed morning peace, and Viktoriya had to draw on her every last reserve of restraint to avoid crying. Grabbing hold of her purse from where she had dropped it on the nightstand many hours before, she hurried outside the small apartment, her heels clicking erratically against the cheaply tiled floors. As she stumbled along the narrow corridor, she could discern the sounds of his caustic laughter, escorting her all the way to the building’s primary staircase.

“You’re welcome !” came the final derisive call. Grimacing, she leaped down the stairs, taking several at a time in order to hasten her escape.

The air was thick with humidity, but provided a pleasant contrast with the stiflingly cramped conditions inside the room where she had spent the previous night. Draping her shawl loosely around her throat, she tucked her fingertips inside the pockets of her skirt and ventured through the crowded streets. She had received a strange call from her companion, Aretsuya, during her previous shift, and had thus been left with no choice but to cut it short. It was a ritual she had grown quite accustomed to in the short time since the two women had become acquainted, but it was a dependency Viktoriya deeply cherished -- even coveted. The term friendship had little meaning in their business, and to develop a bond that transcended simply that alone … well, to call it a rarity would be a gross understatement.

Twenty minutes later, Viktoriya found herself standing in the midst of one of the more derelict areas within the district. Home. Placing one hand over her forehead to act as a shield against the sun’s glare, she glanced across the street, and within a few seconds a smile began tugging along the sides of her lips. There, at the corner of a rundown old coffee-shop they often frequented, stood a lone hunched figure, strands of brilliant cherry-coloured hair framing features which could be distinguished even at their distance as being unique and striking. Grinning broadly, Viktoriya strode quietly over to her partner from behind, and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s slender waist.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, nuzzling her face against the crevice of the other girl’s neck. She felt Aretsuya’s muscles tense up for an instant before melting back against hers, once the familiar touch and fragrance which marked her friend’s distinctive arrival had been established.

Aretsuya eased herself away from the embrace and turned to face the young blonde. “Were you just … ?”

“I was working,” Viktoriya finished abruptly, preventing the girl from pursuing that particular line of questioning any further. She watched as her cohort’s face grew dark from disheartenment, but forced herself to continue the facade sustained by her smile, despite the grave undertones of sadness. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” she said, hooking her arm through Aretsuya’s and maneuvering her towards the cafe's entrance. “I’m starving. My treat.” The day had begun on a sufficiently despondent key, but there was no reason to uphold that trend ... especially now that she was in the company of the one person dearest to her.

Hand in hand, the two youths pushed aside the tinted-glass doors that served as the entrance to the establishment, a small bell whistling mutedly to announce their arrival as they stepped over the threshold. The cafe was lit poorly and equipped only to accommodate a handful of customers simultaneously, but the comfortably worn settees, hand-embroidered cushions and pastel water-coloured paintings that adorned the walls all helped to evoke a sense of warmth and familiarity reminiscent of rainy summer afternoons spent in some faraway, idyllic fairytale cottage. It was difficult not to feel absorbed by the soothing tones and delicate smells wafting through the bar, and as the girls settled into their usual seats, a cheerful aged woman ambled over to their table, a pleasant smile already poised in greeting.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about little old me, what with you two not having come by in so long and all ! I’m not going to stand for that again, you hear ?” she began, wagging a finger in mock reprimand as she scolded them. “Now then, what can I get you darlings today ? Heavens, you both look skinny as rails !”

Viktoriya couldn’t help but laugh under her breath. She had worked a few odd jobs for the cafe's long-standing owner during her childhood years, and to this day the pair maintained an amicable and near-inseparable relationship. Whether the elderly lady was genuinely oblivious to the nature of their profession, or simply chose to turn the other way in denial, Viktoriya couldn’t be sure; nonetheless, she appreciated the welcoming lapse from her usual routine that the store provided, together with a chance to revel in the company of someone who didn’t cast judgmental eyes down upon her for a change, miserably rare as the opportunity was.

As they placed their orders, Viktoriya caught someone glancing at her from across the room for a fraction of a second too long to be deemed commendable. She had noticed him on her way into the bar, and not only because he happened to be the only other patron dining at the time: he was dressed much too formally to be simply attending a late breakfast, and his lavish suit emanated an air of affluence that acted as a beacon for signaling that he was not a local. Although the neighborhood was a long way off from being prosperous, news of the coffee shop’s snug atmosphere and great service was far-reaching, and it was not altogether uncommon to find businessmen and other men of power and good standing to frequent the cafe. Humble and "homely" was all the rage these days, apparently.

Something about the manner in which this man had viewed her, however, was familiar to Viktoriya in an entirely different way; she recognized that look, and was in no mood to tolerate any of its lewd suggestions at that exact moment. The richer or more authoritative the individual, the greater his affinity for degradation and condescendence of the utmost degree; this was an association she had established early on in her career. The men seemed to be under the impression that the wealth and influence they exercised during their daily trades extended over the lives of all whose positions they considered somehow inferior to their own -- and Viktoriya had endured her fair share of ill-treatment for the day. She shot him an icy cold glare, her teeth clenched together.

All at once, Aretsuya’s hushed voice broke through the stillness. “What are you looking at ?” the redhead inquired, eyes wide with child-like curiosity. Viktoriya blinked, hurriedly returning her gaze to focus on her friend again before she could follow her stare and trace it back to its source. No matter how long Aretsuya struggled to adjust to her new life in the city, she still harbored insane levels of guilt and regret for her actions, and whenever possible Viktoriya would attempt everything she could to avoid reminding her.

She smiled weakly. “Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew outside the window, that’s all. False alarm,” she grinned. Her affectations of optimism seemed to come across as slightly overzealous, given the context, and Aretsuya lofted one brow questioningly. As before, Viktoriya quickly changed the subject. “So, do you have any plans for later ? I heard rumors about some small-time underground concert taking place downtown in the evening, and thought we could maybe go check it out.”

Even as she uttered the words, however, her gaze shifted to fixate once more upon the man, who now appeared to be muttering something directed towards her in a state of confused desperation. A deep frown etched itself across Viktoriya’s forehead, and her face darkened. What the hell is his problem ?

Irtar ate tentatively from the sandwich, more thinking to himself than anything. His mind dancing on the thoughts of the past and why he was here. Why he had traveled so far. Budpock was where the Coalition’s embassy was located in the Commonwealth. It supposedly was a more torn planet, with pirates and the like raising all sorts of Hell. But with the Coalition Embassy and the Commonwealth working together, it became far more business oriented and cleaned up.

Many of the businesses that would do work with the Coalition have some kind of office in Demmit Station.

And as it stood, the Sinsangese needed to get some more business going if they were going to do what they planned to do. They needed parts and otherwise that weren’t available from the factories on Sinsang. They needed materials they didn’t otherwise have.

But Irtar couldn’t help but feel as if something were… off. A tingling along his spine. Every so often, when this feeling struck him he’d look up just to see one of the women at the nearby table turn her gaze away. The pair seemed odd to him. Very… differently dressed.

He never really understood a lot of the fashion of the people in the galaxy. A lot of people just looked… odd. But then again, the same could likely be said of him in the eyes of some of them. The fun of being an ambassador. To try and understand people and build a common ground. He was told he’d be good at the job because Jedi teaching is to try and understand and show patience. Unfortunately, they got a run-away and not a new Leia.

Irtar was still lost in his thoughts when his mind was jolted by some movement. The woman who had been watching him had gotten up and was heading in his direction. He was just going to keep an eye on her. He just felt something… weird about this one. He couldn’t push that annoying tingling feeling, like fingers tapping the synapses along his spine.

He was just going to let her pass, making sure she wasn’t up to anything.

Something was prodding at him that something wasn’t right.

And then she lingered. If for nothing but that moment of lingering; that slowing in her pace and the gaze that she left on him. That gaze she tried to pretend she wasn’t placing on him. Was she sizing him up? Was she another Sith come to fight him? He couldn’t just jump to conclusions. He didn’t want to seem as paranoid as so many others like him had become in this dark time.

“Can I help you….?” Irtar asked, trying to sound as courteous as he could. “I noticed you’ve been watching me. So if there’s anything you’d like, please go ahead.”

Irtar's first instinct was to jump up and help the stumbling woman, but he instead hit the table. Unfortunately, he knocked it enough off of balance so that when the woman tried to get back up she knocked his sandwich right in his lap. He was kinda happy he already ate most of it, but it still left a wonderful stain of mustard and mayo on his pant leg. Irtar shot back from the table with a groan, he took some napkins and began to try and wipe up the stuff.

He looked over to the woman as he scrubbed at his leg, and saw her face nearly turn as red as her hair. She was trying to gather up all the bits from the broke plate and bits of sandwich on the floor. Irtar took a soft breath. It was only just a pair of pants.

"It's okay." Irtar said, offering a hand to her to help her off the floor. "Really."

He offered her a seat and they began to build the foundation of a conversation. When she asked him if she knew him from somewhere Irtar kinda turned away a moment, a bit of colour coming to his face.

"Heh. Well, you might've seen me on the holovids." Irtar said, a bit of a bashful tone hitting him. "I'm the ambassador for the Coalition in the Raioballo Sector. Sinsangese and Anx and such. Didn't know any of those made their way all the way out here to Budpock but hey! I'm not complaining."

Irtar kinda made an awkward smile and rubbed the back of his head. That old awkwardness kicking back in with the young woman nearby. And the way she was looking at him didn't help either. He couldn't deny she was cute now that he had the chance to look at her up close even if her style of dress was... weird.

"Well, how about you? I'm just here on a business trip. Like... heck, I don't even know your name."

What a pair they had to be.

Aretsuya seemed to be nearly as nervous as he was.

Irtar worked as hard as he could to remember his public speaking lessons. But alas, a faceless crowd was not a woman at your side. And he was blessed in some ways that in his heart he’d always be Irtar Mal’Gro at heart. Though with dealing up close and personal with any of the opposite sex it often served as a curse.

The conversation continued its broken pace until all of a sudden she yelled at him to shut up. Irtar was taken aback for a moment. She quickly apologized and said it wasn’t him but who else could it be? Irtar kinda slumped a bit. He had probably gone rambling again. Probably drove her patience to the end and only afterwards she realized her manners.

The pair went silent for a time as Irtar sat there nervously as Aretsuya stared away, off into space. It took some time sitting nervously before he got the courage as to speak up. He asked if there was anything wrong and got a simply reply of thirst and decided to push his luck.

“Really, think nothing of it. You’ve earned at least a drink for putting up with a guy like me.” Irtar said with a feigned half-laugh of sorts. “And there’s no fun talking with a parched throat right?”

“Heck, if you haven’t really eaten either I’ve no problem sharing a sandwhich. I was nearly done my other one anyways and I couldn’t eat another plate of them alone.” Irtar said with a kinda half smile.

His palms felt like puddles. And there was that damn feeling as she passed her eyes over him again. It wasn’t like when a girl normally looked at him. He knew that feeling and he felt that there in the background there, but this was something… different. Familiar but he couldn’t place it.

“But yeah… are you from around here? I’m from Dantooine. Lovely farm outside of a little town called Druham. Not much there but an Imperial Outpost for the planet now, but still. Sometimes I miss the place, especially in dank cities like this. No offense meant. But y’know, there’s a lot of times I miss playing around in the fields and pretending a Grauler was about to charge out of nowhere. Nasty things, but thankfully our farm was far from their hunting territories. And… I’m ranting. Sorry….” Irtar muttered, coming to a slow halt.

He just kinda sat there in silence, letting Aretsyua take back the initiative if she wanted, himself personally embarrassed about how first he got her yelling at him to shut up and she was probably ready to do so again.

Maybe he should just suggest she rejoin her friend and they can both go on in peace?