Charm School, Attn: Molly

[Rhia Ischoron]

Cleaning solvent, tinged a dark pink with blood, gushed from the towel as Rhia worked the stained fabric into a tight twist. The liquid dribbled down into a bucket and she twisted the towel the other way before shaking it out, taking care not to let stray droplets splatter out on the now-clean deck. After her and Molly’s bloody takeover of this ship, they’d been quick to turn their prow toward Taris, escaping with their bounty before the Hutt who’d been safekeeping him had a chance to send out reinforcements. A single ship in a huge galaxy of trillions. The two of them were nigh untraceable, and now this single ship was one of theirs to own, an unexpected part of the cut for Trent’s delivery.

The cockpit, however, wouldn’t clean itself out. One of the seats was permanently stained with blood, the fabric ripped along the back where the vibroaxe had worked its way through the woman’s chest and out her back, and there were energy scores beneath the console, where Rhia’s shots had punched through the two pilot’s brains. Not to mention the blood. In the bright light of the hangar bay, Rhia could really appreciate the mess Molly had made. Deoxygenated blood was splattered all over the floor, the walls, even the ceiling, in droplets, spurts, arcing lines. It was a mess. Still, Rhia couldn’t resent Molly for it; They’d done exceptionally well with their hunt, with very little in the way of injury, and as she worked, she mused over what she might do first with her share.

She knew what Molly was going to spend part of it on. The commando had invited Rhia out, almost the second the credit chits were in their hands, to a dive bar for drinks. The baar’ur had to decline, on the excuse that she had to go inspect the ship. The truth was that Rhia had probably never knocked back more than one glass of alcohol at a time, and judging from Molly’s combat tactics, moderation was not something she would be practicing. Also, she didn’t do well in bars, people tended to avoid her when she was in her beskar’gam, and when she wasn’t, they made her uncomfortable. So, instead, Rhia had chosen the sedate route, and went back to the ship to unwind in her own way.

First order of business had been to get unsuited, and get into the 'fresher. She staked out one cabin for her use - it just so happened to be their recent bounty's - and with quite a bit of relish, shed the heavy beskar plates to take a quick rinse in the shower. However, getting dressed had almost become a real problem. While she loved her armor, she was reluctant to don it again, but she had no change of clothes and she refused to wear any clothing she found when looting Trent's room. It was all high-end suits and besides that, far too small. In some desperation, she'd actually taken to wandering the ship in her search in just her kute, hoping that her partner wouldn't take offense, and it was a good decision. Just as she'd been about to give up and put her beskar'gam back on, a locker in the armory yielded a baggy black shirt and a pair of dark green cargo pants.

After putting that on, the Mando spent a little time going through what little personal effects Trent had on the ship, in the cabin she had laid claim to. It was rather weird, being in another person’s area, but Rhia had quickly gotten over it upon discovering just how smarmy Trent actually was. Documents for blackmail, lists of security codes he’d planned on selling, pictures, contacts; Everything Rhia would expect from an information dealer and more. Unfortunately, none of it had any use to her, and without a second thought, it was all trashed, leaving that cabin bare of everything but the essentials and a big box of junk just outside the loading ramp.

Taking care not to touch her face with the cleaning solvent, Rhia wiped the moisture from her forehead and sat back from her kneeling position, blowing out a breath. The cockpit was clean now, and Rhia leaned her back against the wall, folding up her knees and resting her elbows on them. She dropped the rag with a half-hearted toss toward the bucket and then propped her head back against the bulkhead to let her eyes slide shut. Maybe it was time for a rest, considering how heavy her limbs were feeling. Stars, she had been going since... She didn’t know when.

[Molly Grimm]

Despite her injuries and the failure of her armour, Molly Grimm had had a good day. She was flush with credits, got to hurt a lot of people, and got away with it all. It felt like a bit of a slip to the rehabilitated murderer, but one that she could live with. The bastards that they had killed all deserved it for one crime or another. Still Molly regretted not killing Trent. She would have enjoyed making him scream. In the end she had to take comfort in the agony her bounty partner had inflicted upon the man. It wasn't the same though. Watching was always a lesser to actual participation.

God she felt good; alive, and drowning in the sense memory of it all. Once the ship and their cargo had been secured, Molly had just slumped against the bulkhead in silence, her deactivated comm keeping the giggling laughter private as she relieved each moment and remembered each kill. The adrenaline slowly ebbed from her system and the commando, still armour clad, slipped into lethargic bliss.

It took Molly about forty minutes to reach her feet and summon the effort to peel the armoured layers from her flesh. She had taken over one of the cabins aboard the Dynamic class freighter and claimed it as her own. The sensation of fresh air on her clammy flesh as she decoupled and removed her helm was fantastic. Tossing it onto a bunk, Molly continued to remove the armour, blurting curses each time the process agitated her wounds. That frelling Rodian should have paid more than he had.

Finally peeling off the matte black bodysuit with flush metallic jacks running the spine, dotting her chest and arms and legs, she collapsed naked on the bunk about her discarded armour. Looking past the woman's curves and exceptional physical condition, the trophies of her lifestyle were easy to see. Numerous scars, the majority light and faded, blotted her body. Some were decades old, barely visible against the natural tone of her flesh. Burns, stabs, cuts, bullet holes were all represented in one form or another.

More were added into the mix from today. Her side was mottled yellow, dabbed with black and purple; a reminder of the injuries she took. Her bicep looked far worse though, the skin blistered and cherry red, glistening in the remains of the bacta gel. It looked raw and very painful. The wound throbbed with each heartbeat and Molly was grateful for her genenhanced physiology. With medical treatment it would heal within a week or two with barely a blemish remaining.

Sliding from the bunk, Molly pulled the pins from her hair, letting the lank and sweat-clumped locks fall about her shoulders. She meandered into the fresher, snatching the R-65 blaster pistol up as she passed it, and slammed the door behind her. Her shower lasted about an hour, with a good portion of that time spent with Molly just standing beneath the falling water with her eyes closed. Dirt, grime, and blood circled the drain and accumulated in the crevices of the shower.

With a towel wrapped around her body, Molly ransacked the cabin with little regard for the belongings and who previously called this room her own. Molly was sure it was a woman, perhaps the bitch she buried the vibroaxe in? She would never know and she didn't really care. Now all she cared about was finding something to wear as the prospect of donning her armour again was not something she was looking forward to.

Finally she went to find Rhia. The Mandalorian had made a pitiful excuse to not go out drinking and Molly wasn't about to her accomplice scrub a frelling ship after such a successful mission. They needed to celebrate, get drunk, get frelled, get in a fight, anything but mope about with a scrubbing brush. Just the way the younger woman had declined told Molly that she wasn't exactly the party type. That would change right now.

Leaning in the doorway to the cockpit in her stolen clothes, Molly was instantly transported back to a few hours ago. She could still feel the violent shudders in her hand as the vibroaxe bit into the woman and ripped her apart. It seemed like Rhia was finished with her cleaning and Molly had to admit that she scrubbed almost all the evidence away. Apart from the physical remnants of their vicious assault, no one would have known anything untowardly had happened.

"Well, you frelling finished now?" Molly sounded a little bored and her words skirted along accusatory. However, the cocky grin plastered across her face told a slightly different story; this was what Molly called gentle ribbing.
Leaning with her arms crossed in navy blue trousers and a cream blouse with ivory buttons, Molly scoffed and said, "Good, about time. No excuse now. You're coming with me."

Molly crossed the short distance to where Rhia was leaning against the wall and pulled the Mandalorian to her feet and out of the cockpit.
"This is what we do, 'kay?" Molly explained, leading Rhia by the wrist past communications and into the main hold. "You have a good mission, you celebrate. You have a bad mission—" her voice trailed off briefly, "—you drink until you can't feel your face."

Waiting on the table was Molly's R-65, a vibroknife, and a matching navy blue jacket. Finally releasing Rhia, Molly pulled on the jacket. Molly cursed the woman's dress sense as she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective metal sheen of a bulkhead. Frowning, she wondered why she couldn't have killed someone with a bit of style.
"Go on then... get your coat," Molly said, throwing her finger off towards one of the adjoining corridors and leaving no room for Rhia to refuse.

[Rhia Ischoron]

“Well, you frelling finished now?”

A sharp inhale and Rhia’s eyes snapped open to see Molly leaning in the doorway, a cheeky grin on her face and dressed in, of all things, a light blouse and fine blue trousers. The accusatory tone was lost on the Mando, her slight surprise and amusement at seeing Molly’s state of dress overshadowing it. A joke about being ‘dressed to kill’ popped up in Rhia’s mind, but she didn’t know how to convey it in Basic. It was a good thing though; the joke made even Rhia cringe at how terrible it would sound.

All things considered, the outfit Rhia was most familiar with was Molly’s armor, and just seeing Molly’s plain face was something new, but what Molly wore was not what she’d imagined on the commando when the woman had some downtime. However, like Rhia was learning, the aruetii was full of surprises. It didn’t look bad, Molly’s trim figure allowing for just about any style of dress, just... unexpected. 


Blinking, Rhia lifted her head and looked about the cockpit, noting that the floor was still damp, the sight chasing away the vague wonderings about how long she’d been dozing. She groaned as she leaned forward and stretched, throwing her arms out and reaching for the other side of the cockpit.

“Molly Grimm.” She answered by way of greeting, just barely holding back a yawn. “I believe I may be, yes. How is your arm-”

“Good, about time. No excuse now. You're coming with me.”

“Wait, what-” Rhia didn’t have time to get out a response before the well-dressed Molly was upon her, tugging her to her feet. The commando was stronger than she looked, but that came as no shock. Getting dragged by her wrist by an aruetii, however, was something of a wonder, so much so that Rhia allowed it, curious about Molly meant.

“This is what we do, 'kay? You have a good mission, you celebrate. You have a bad mission— ... you drink until you can't feel your face.”

“Oh.” Rhia blurted, pursing her lips “This again.”

The Mandalorian managed to extricate her wrist just as they reached the main cabin, but not in any rough way. As Molly pulled on her jacket, Rhia raised one dubious eyebrow at the woman, her arms folding across her stomach in something of a contemplative posture. She wasn’t angry about this, just somewhat exasperated; She’d already said no, but Molly was insisting again.

“Go on then... get your coat.”

At that, Rhia gave a short laugh. There was no stopping Molly. The more time Rhia spent around the commando, the more she grew to like her. Rhia’s eyes flicked about the sparse cabin. The ship was quiet save the sound of Molly equipping herself and once Molly left, Rhia knew it would be even quieter, dreadfully so. And even if she told herself she’d find ways to occupy herself, she knew she’d just end up going to sleep... Or she’d try to. Celebrating actually sounded like a fine way to spend her evening, like when she was younger. It would help to take her mind off the thoughts of Ilian that would invade once she was alone and bored. A broad smile adorning her face, she shrugged in defeat.

“Alright, but I hope you do not find me badly under-dressed.” She quipped, obviously indicating Molly's clothing, before disappearing down the hallway to ‘her’ cabin. Coming back, she held a dark jacket, and both her Bryar and SE-14C blaster pistols. Throwing her jacket onto the bench, she rearranged the holster belts, strapping her pistols to her torso, before picking the jacket up again and shaking it out.

It didn't fit her, but Rhia didn’t mind that. She wasn’t one for showing herself off, even if her lifestyle granted her excellent form and it made it so her various tattoos remained mostly obscured. Also, it concealed the various bits of weaponry she hid about her person. She even tucked her crushgaunts into her belt, just in case - always just in case.

“And I will not be drinking much, Grimm.” She warned as the exit ramp whirred open. “Otherwise, lead the way!”

[Molly Grimm]

“Oh. This again.”

"Yes, frelling this again." Molly bit back, not relenting for a second to give Rhia the chance to weasel out of her duties.
The woman had a wild fire in her eyes, a burning desire to do something, anything. She was going stir-crazy in this ship with Trent's bounty burning a hole in her pocket. Molly had energy to burn, she felt alive, and she needed to get out. If it came down to it and the frigid Mandalorian declined her offer again, she'd go out alone and have a few too many, find someone to frell and drag them back to the ship to wake Rhia.

“Alright, but I hope you do not find me badly under-dressed.”

"Oh frell you. This is all I could find in that frelling assistant's closet." she shouted as she disappeared down the corridor.
Molly was left beside the table with a deep frown as she snatched the holstered R-65 from the table and clipped it to the designer belt beneath the coat. After doing the same with the vibroknife, sheathing it at the small of her back, she leant against the table with her arms crossed. She cringed, agitating the wound.

When Rhia came back into the room Molly, an annoyed expression creased her face and she had one hand inside the opposite arm of her jacket, adjusting the bacta-packed bandage around her bicep. Her eyes flitted towards the Mandalorian as she approached with gear in hand. Her hand snaked from inside the dark blue dress jacket and she steeled her expression. Her arm still throbbed but she played it down, instead focusing on what Rhia was carrying.

Her murderous green eyes fell almost instantly to the gauntlets that her bounty partner had used so effectively throughout their assault. Her mind harked back to the brutal caving in of a skull. Just thinking of the moment sent a pleasurable tingle down her spine and along her arms. Molly wanted that kind of power. She needed to get her hands on a pair of those. Chewing her bottom lip, the murderer wondered if she could get Rhia to part with hers or give her the name and location of the merchant so she could pick up a pair.

“And I will not be drinking much, Grimm. Otherwise, lead the way!”

Molly laughed out loud and looked back at Rhia. The noise sounded unfamiliar coming from the woman. Walking backwards down the ramp, she shook her head, only after a second realising that the woman was serious.
"Oh, yeah, sure. We'll see how that goes." she said with a roll of her eyes and pirouetted on the ball of her foot, facing forward again with another chuckle.

It wasn't long until Molly found the perfect bar for them to spend the rest of their evening. It wasn't too far from where they had docked. Out of all the respectable establishments along the main avenue, Molly had found the one dingy, back alley bar that should have been condemned on health and safety grounds long ago. The door was a heavy plate of durasteel, dull red with grimy deposits across the surface and what smells like urine stained in low arcs across the front.

Inside was worse if possible. The lighting was low and the air thick with smoke and the reek of liquor. Molly inhaled deeply and sighed nostalgically. This was her kind of place. Too bad she didn't look the part any more. She appeared more the senator representing Taris than a double hard bad ass who just slaughtered her way through a Hutt's palace. Half a dozen sets of eyes fell upon the newcomers and Molly met their gaze confidently. Whatever she wore, it was her eyes that set her apart from anyone else. They were dead. A killer's gaze lacking remorse or compassion; the eyes of someone experienced in taking life and not thinking twice about it.

[Rhia Ischoron]

“Oh frell you. This is all I could find in that frelling assistant's closet.”

Hearing this as she retreated drew a loud cackle from the Mando’ad. Reminiscent of the sort of ribbing she’d share with her vode, the exchange felt good, throwing Rhia into a better mood than she had been for a while. Molly’s retaliation answered Rhia’s curiosity about her wardrobe as well, and for the better, as the ever-practical Mando thought delicate garments woefully inefficient for anything more than looking nice. Rhia didn’t believe Molly was the impractical type.

Focused on tightening her holster straps about herself, the strong material rasping through the metal buckles, Rhia didn’t notice Molly’s discomfort, though she fully intended to ask after the wound again. She was just in time however, to see Molly gazing covetously at the crushgaunts tucked in her belt, and one hand absently touched on the folded metal and fabric, ensuring their presence. For a moment, she wondered after Molly’s intent at inviting her out, but pushed the thought away. Molly didn’t seem stupid enough to steal from a Mando, nor the kind to steal at all really. The Tsad commando proved herself a reliable companion, if slightly off-balance when Rhia compared her to other aruetiise. Still, if her instincts misled her, she was confident she wouldn’t be powerless to exact her revenge.

Tromping down the ramp, Rhia’s let her boots land heavily on the metal, shaking the grates on the hangar bay below. A slow grin came to her face as Molly laughed and as she expressed her skepticism, Rhia shook her head. “No, there is no ‘we’ll see’. I will not be drinking.”

At first, Rhia trailed a little ways behind Molly as they left the hangar bay’s cavernous expanse and emerged on the strip. Her sharp eyes warily traced the lines of the towering buildings that rose up around them, hating how the structures stretched all the way to the horizon. Light pollution obscured the spread of stars in the night sky, and just on the edge of the strip was oblivion, a dreadful plummet to death. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she drew the tip of one finger against the pocket’s linty seam, and broke into a trot to catch up with her companion. She disliked seeing nothing but metal and duracrete for miles, save the random stunted trees growing pitifully in the strip median.

There was little to no conversation as she walked with Molly, but Rhia was content with the silence between them. She listened instead to the constant murmur of the ecumenopolis, the whirring of speeder engines overhead, and voices, alien and humanoid, which swelled in volume every time they passed a cantina. That was a problem, though - they were passing quite a few cantinas, but Molly showed no sign of stopping. After a little bit, Rhia started to point out some of the dives, glancing at her companion, but received no response. The last time she did it, she turned away for just a second to turn back around and find that Molly had disappeared, striding across the strip to what had to be the worse cantina on the lot.

Catching up with her, Rhia shot a dubious look at the rusty, stained door, and at the dim light shining through the grimy window to the side. Lip curling at the sight, Rhia glanced at Molly, wondering if the woman was playing some sort of prank.

“You are not serious. This place is...” Apparently, the commando was dead serious, already pushing through the door as Rhia finished her protest. “...chaavla sa shebs be'striili.” Well, the aruetii wouldn’t have understood her anyway, but Rhia thought the description apt. Mandalorian dives by no means had better standards but ‘rough as a strill's backside’ had a certain special level of awful to it that left Rhia cringing as she shoved herself in after Molly.

Several eyes turned on the women as they entered, and Rhia frowned. While she didn’t possess Molly’s cold killer stare - she was a baar'ur, she was meant to keep people alive - the way she set her jaw and the competent glint in her dark eyes warned most beings off. The door squealed shut behind them and there was a tense moment, a standoff between the newcomers and the bar’s patrons. Then, when they were deemed satisfactory, business returned to normal and Rhia followed Molly further into the bar.

The dive was longer than it was wide, at least from what Rhia could see through smoke, one wall covered in a dirty mirror which reflected the shelves and shelves of alcohol containers behind the bar. Rhia, noting the blaster scoring on the duraplast floor and walls, quirked a skeptical eyebrow before taking a seat, thankful for her long pants against the sticky barstool. Leaning forward, she rested her forearms on the bar and squinted at a small stand which held the menu. As a bar, it didn’t have much in the way of meals, mostly finger foods to munch on while drinking. Seeing the selection, she pursed her lips and then turned to her companion, purposefully leaning on her elbow to look at Molly.

“You sure know how to pick them, Grimm.” She said with a small grin, a rueful twist to her lips. “So, what is the celebration protocol again?”

[Molly Grimm]

“No, there is no ‘we’ll see’. I will not be drinking.”

She didn't offer any kind of rebuttal to Rhia's vehement statement, just simply shook her head with a smirk. The girl didn't know who she was dealing with. They would both be drinking this evening and Molly wasn't going to take it any other way. She doubted it would come to anything serious, but she was prepared to force liquor down the woman's throat to get her in the mood to celebrate. It was sad with just one drinking.

They winded through the streets and with each turn of the corner Molly could see the apprehension in the Mandalorian's eyes. She was becoming worried to their location and as time passed, the playful and slightly mischievous side to Molly had to see how far she could push. If Rhia hadn't looked so worried, they could have stopped at least a half dozen bars down. Of course she didn't raise her voice to this; that would have ruined her fun.

“You are not serious. This place is...chaavla sa shebs be'striili.”

She turned; stopping in the door way as Rhia spoke again, delving into that odd language of hers. She wondered what the woman had said, it had the sound of a curse to it. To answer her bounty partner, Molly simply motioned her head into the establishment and disappeared inside, confident that the Mandalorian was behind her.

Pushing further into the dark and murky atmosphere the bar dripped from every crevice and crack, the stares followed for a moment before turning away from them, going back to their own business. That was how Molly liked it and they did well to give her a wide berth. She smirked to herself, dropping onto the barstool and resting her palms on the sticky countertop. Rhia hesitantly sat beside her and thumbed through a menu. She frowned that that, wondering if perhaps she had chosen a more classy establishment than she had meant to. Food should not be served at bars.

“You sure know how to pick them, Grimm. So, what is the celebration protocol again?”

"Right!" Molly's grin grew. It was an odd thing and didn't suit her. It was almost like the expression didn't reach past the surface and into the truth of her being. "Barkeep, bottle of Quanya and two glasses.
The man didn't look too impressed as he pulled an unopened bottle from under the bar and slammed it on the counter. Molly's bright green eyes locked on the bottle and she licked her lips. She glanced excitedly to Rhia as two short glasses were haphazardly slid in their direction. After paying, Molly collected the bottle in one hand and plucked the glasses on two fingers.

Sitting down at a small table, Molly kicked out the other chair for Rhia and grinned, wasting little time in unscrewing the decorative bottle and pouring out two glasses, clear spirits slashing onto the grimy table top. Taking her glass and replacing the bottle on the table, Molly held her glass towards her accomplice and nodded for her to follow suit.
"To Trent, without him, we wouldn't be here." Molly toasted before slamming her glass into Rhia's and spilling across both their hands.

[Rhia Ischoron]

The empty smile followed by Molly’s exclamation was met by Rhia’s quirked eyebrow. The sight of it wasn’t anything of note to her, but seeing it still had the Mandalorian ill at ease. Having always been the kind to wear her emotions right on her sleeves, she unconsciously expected others to do the same and seeing Molly’s grin gave Rhia a multitude of impressions, none of which were good. Or based in truth, to be completely fair, but Rhia pushed all of that away, with a minute shake of her head. Molly’s business was her own, and Rhia wasn’t one to delve into other people’s personal lives. She was here for the fun, to celebrate, like the woman wanted.

She had no input about the bottle of Quanya, and even if she any knowledge about alcohol besides that needed for practicing medicine, she wouldn’t have said anything anyway. Molly was the one putting down the creds, it was her choice. The glasses gave a light chinking sound as Molly swept them up and Rhia spun atop the barstool, pushing herself away from the counter and following the aruetii to a vacant table. Hooking the leg of the seat Molly pushed out for her with her booted foot, she turned the chair to face the bar. Only then did she settle in it, dark eyes snapping about the dim space, from the heavy metal door to the cavelike recess which led to the ‘freshers. Her attention was drawn by the crackling sound of Molly twisting the bottle’s top off and then pouring the drink.

The aroma of the amber liquor wafted up into Rhia’s nostrils, and her grin, which hung just on the edges of her lips as she tried to get comfortable in the spindly chair, returned full force. It smelt good, like it would burn going down. Rhia liked that sensation, even if it brought a pang of homesickness as she plucked her glass from the table.

“To Trent, without him, we wouldn't be here.”

Rhia raised the glass, holding it tight as the commando’s glass collided with hers, spilling the Quanya over her knuckles and down her sleeve. Even as she reached up to take the glass in her other hand and shake out the wet one, Rhia’s grin remained and she nodded.

“That, buy’ce, is a worthy toast. She returned, her voice warm with approval. Touching the glass to her lips, she tipped it and took in a deep draft. She drained it halfway before lowering it and giving something between a wet cough and a chuckle. “Frak, that burns.” She sputtered, trying to clear her throat. The burning faded away into the familiar warmth of the liquor but before taking another sip, she paused. It was customary to return a toast, wasn’t it? She considered the liquor as she swirled the glass, before raising it again.

“To you, Molly Grimm.” She said, eyeing the commando for her reaction. Rhia was unsure of how she’d respond, but it felt right to do this. “You are a formidable fighter, a good ally...” The next few words would’ve been ‘and a friend’, but they’d only known each other a few hours and it felt a little different saying it in a language Molly could understand. Then again, two beings thrown into combat together, forced to trust each other under duress - It made bonds develop far more quickly and Rhia had a growing respect for the Tsad human. But not yet, she was still unsure. Instead, Rhia thought back on the events of the day, and then broke out into a short peal of laughter. “And, stars, did you make a mess in the cockpit.”

If anything, that was definitely something to toast to, and Rhia bumped her glass against Molly’s again and brought it to her lips to knock the rest of it back. Putting the glass down on the table, Rhia shifted in her seat to remove the crushgaunts from her belt, before they started digging into her side. Putting them on the table, she put an elbow on them and then glanced back across the bar.

“So, what to do with the ship.” She started. “We can sell it for a few more creds or a one of us can take it, buy it off the other or the like. What do you think?”

Rhia, herself was in need of a transport, but she didn’t speak out right away, wanting to see Molly’s stance on it. She was a firm believer of equal rewards for a job well done, and she didn’t want to snatch one of the bigger prizes away from the commando before she got any input.

[Molly Grimm]

“That, buy’ce, is a worthy toast. Frak, that burns.”

There was that word again. She recalled Rhia calling her that earlier as they were tearing through the Hutt's domain in search of Trent. With this on her mind, she downed the glass, slamming it back to the tabletop in a triumphant sigh as the liquid burnt her throat. Molly knew she would have to drink more than her fair share to get anything close to drunk. Sometimes she hated what they had done to her body. It made some of the simplest and most enjoyable things so much more complicated.

Molly wiped her mouth with her sleeve, swiping a thin trickle alcohol from her chin. The bottle was quickly snatched and she poured another glass. She smirked toward the one who had declared that she wouldn't be drinking and raised an eyebrow. Basic must have confused her again. Molly felt the spark of irritation burn through her brain. It wasn't a difficult language for frells sake. Learn it.

Whatever irritation Molly felt was quickly washed away with the pleasant surprise of Rhia drinking with her. She had entered the bar seeing a heavy battle ahead of her, taking the Mandalorian by the chin, pouring spirits down her throat, and pinning her mouth and nose closed. She grinned at the mental image, never revealing the source of the smirk to her drinking buddy. Molly didn't think Rhia would find it amusing.

“To you, Molly Grimm. You are a formidable fighter, a good ally...”

Both eyebrows arched in mild amusement at being the subject of a toast. She couldn't recall that happening before. She shrugged in acceptance because she was that damn good. It was never said that Molly Grimm didn't have an ego.
"To me... and you. A god dammed frelling awesome team."
The glasses cracked together again and Molly downed the contents in a single gulp. The glass was slammed home again and refilled. Rhia's glass was also refilled. Molly wasn't letting the Mandalorian get away with just one.

“And, stars, did you make a mess in the cockpit.”

Molly nodded to that. She could still feel the vibrations up her arm... or it was her burnt bicep voicing its irritation. She didn't think about it much and smiled reminiscently. Letting out a long sigh that should have been reserved for a romantic dinner and walk along the beach at sunset, Molly stared at the opposite wall and said, "Yeah."
That wasn't the normal reaction and that had her thinking of Muse for some reason. Right, he would have been horrified.

Snorting dismissively, Molly took a long sip of Quanya. She didn't think he would have approved of one thing they did on this bounty. Whatever, Molly thought, shaking him from her mind and washing away his presence with liquor. She had better things to do tonight.

Her eyes snapped to the gauntlets Rhia placed upon the table and she couldn't keep the coveting nature from her gaze. Molly licked her lips and grinned, remembering with perfect clarity and recall how that skull caved beneath them. Oh the things she could do a pair of those. Lost in her dream world, it took Molly a good few seconds to process what Rhia had said.

“So, what to do with the ship. We can sell it for a few more creds or a one of us can take it, buy it off the other or the like. What do you think?”

"Ship? What ship?" Molly snapped off quickly in a blurt of annoyance. "Frell it, I don't care... do what you want. What I do want to talk about," she continued, bringing her tone down and the aggravation ebbed from her words, "Is those beauties there."
The hand with the glass extended a digit and pointed at the crushgaunts.
"I've seen stuff like that before, but nothing so... so... skull crushing!"

[Rhia Ischoron]

“To me... and you. A god dammed frelling awesome team.”

Rhia grinned at the commando over her glass, happy with the return toast and Molly’s apparent positive reaction. “Hah, yes, I would do this again.”

After she’d put the cup down, she’d kept a protective hand over the mouth of it, just in case Molly tried to refill it. However, her ploy failed when she had to take it off to remove her crushgaunts and Rhia's gaze was layered with chagrin as the amber liquid sloshed out of the bottle. Well... She wouldn’t get drunk off of one more, it’d be fine to take this one too. Picking up the glass again, she quirked one eyebrow at Molly’s wistful response, but said nothing.

Molly reveled violence, that much was obvious, and even Rhia couldn’t boast holding the same level of enjoyment, though it was close. Even so, Rhia thought the way she took pleasure in destruction a little different, the sensation of victory and conquest, and a job well done. Well, most of the time. Molly... She couldn’t really tell, it seemed to be a much more personal enjoyment, the kind where she just wanted to cause harm but, Rhia pushed all that away. It made the commando effective and that’s what was needed. Similarly, they could be an effective team without knowing every inkling of the other’s past. Don’t ask, don’t tell, that was a good policy.

“Ship? What ship? Frell it, I don't care... do what you want.”

At this, Rhia’s face split into a wide grin. “Fantastic. I’ll take it then.” She replied quickly, seizing on this dismissal as the go ahead she needed to lay claim to the transport. Besides, it seemed that Molly was focused on something else and Rhia looked to her side at her gauntlets.

“What I do want to talk about [...] but nothing so... so... skull crushing!”

Aided by the jubilation in having her own ship and then the covetous gleam in Molly’s eyes, the bar was simply not big enough for Rhia’s swelling Mandalorian ego. The Mandalorian crushgaunts were, of course, the best in the galaxy, in design and implementation. Taking her elbow off the pair of gauntlets, she patted them with her open hand, her grin becoming absent-minded. Hers were fairly new, but, despite her diligence, they had that personal touch of wear and tear to them. The undermesh was a little dulled and the black paint was a little chipped around the knuckles, but still, they were in fine condition. And learning their full capabilities was a pleasure in and of itself.

“They are called shuk'orok.” Rhia said authoritatively, her Mando’a accent blending heavily into her Basic. If there was anything she knew, it was her weaponry, and her confidence made this slant in her speaking pattern negligible. Plucking one up, she slid it across the table toward Molly. While Rhia was aware this might be a hazardous move, she found she could trust Molly with a closer look at at least one. “In your language, ‘crushgaunts’. They are made of beskar, the iron we mine back on home Mandalore, broken into very fine particles and forged into the gauntlets. Beskar is what my armor is made of. It is strong enough to block even a jetii’kad. A lightsaber.” Taking a moment, Rhia lifted the other and slipped it on, wriggling her digits into place.

Her dark gaze slid over the gauntlet on her hand in a thoughtful way, remembering the way the thick blood and brain matter had oozed between her fingers. It was her turn to shiver in delight before looking across the table at Molly. “I do not know if mine will fit you. We custom make all of our equipment, but you are welcome to try.”

Rhia tilted her head to the side, leaning her chin into the un-gauntleted hand, regarding the commando just as thoughtfully. Molly was kind - or dismissive - enough to give her the ship, and Rhia was all for outfitting a competent warrior with effective weaponry, knowing that the glories of Mandalorian engineering ought to be shared. They couldn’t be replicated anyhow, and it seemed like a fine thing to gift to Molly, especially if they would be working together in the future.

“Would you... ” She started, and then shrugged, taking a sip of the harsh liquor. “I can get you a pair, if you wish it. It would be the least I can do for the ship. And a mission well done.”

[Molly Grimm]

“They are called shuk'orok. [...] A lightsaber.”

Molly tried the alien name on her tongue, the first time that she cared to attempt some Mando'a, she hadn’t cared to until now. However, the second that it involved a weapon, she was all ears. If it was one thing she knew about, it was weaponry. Her head was full of facts and figures, statistics and procedures for a mind numbingly wide assortment of the tools of war. She hadn't even had a chance to use a good deal of them.

She nodded enthusiastically, subconsciously evaluating the pros and cons; there were few cons. Molly had heard of Beskar before and knew its main properties. She had never been this close to any, however. The metal was extremely rare and the processing techniques were highly guarded. She found herself wanting to test the gauntlets, seeing how much damage they could inflict and how much they could take.

The glass was downed again and placed upon the table. A lot of the zeal that she had slammed back the drinks was gone. The murderer still seemed enthusiastic about her booze, make no mistake, but she wasn't pounding them one after another. The amber liquid sloshed from the bottle, filling the glass again and splashing a little over the tabletop.

Scooping up the glass, she sipped the spirit slowly, letting the warm liquid burn its way down her throat. Molly played with the glass, her eyes moving between the drink and the pair of crushgaunts and eyeing them jealously. She really wanted to try and break something. And it would seem that her companion could see the lusting look in her eyes and could easily guess that she wanted to try them on.

“I do not know if mine will fit you. We custom make all of our equipment, but you are welcome to try.”

Some in this situation, many in fact, would have thanked Rhia for the opportunity and her generosity. Molly, however, was not one of those people.
"Oh frell yeah, give it here," she replied quickly.
Reaching across the table, she snatched up the gauntlet and dropped her glass to the table. It was surprisingly heavy and Molly ran her fingers over the raised knuckle ridges and studded digits. It was easy to imagine the mind that created such a weapon. Every curve and surface had been thoughtfully designed with a specific and violent purpose in mind. Molly loved it.

The gauntlet was loose as she pulled it onto her hand. Molly flexed her digits, feeling the micro-servos precisely mimic her movement. While that was nice and responsive, that wasn't what Molly wished to test. Casting a mischievous grin towards Rhia, Molly's foot hooked a chair from the next table. She glanced around the bar as she settled the beskar fist on the edge of the seat. Confident that no one was paying them much attention, she squeezed.

The wood splintered and cracked, shredding in her minimal grip. The noise was louder than she had been expecting and she did well to keep the excited expression from her features. A couple looks were cast in their direction and Molly kept her gaze firmly on Rhia. She opened her hand and wood chips fell from her palm. A slow and manic grin parted her lips until she was bearing teeth and giggling.
"Frelling yeah..." she murmured with manic excitement, desperately wanting to try and break something else.

“Would you... I can get you a pair, if you wish it. It would be the least I can do for the ship. And a mission well done.”

Her face lit up in the dim darkness of the disgusting bar. She looked like a child on her first Christmas upon seeing a mountain of presents stacked beneath a gorgeous tree.
"I would love you. Frelling love you," she grinned, "you don't understand. I need these."

[Rhia Ischoron]

While Molly’s zeal for the liquor had subsided, Rhia kept at the same pace of drinking, sipping from her glass every now and then as she spoke. The conversation did well to distract the Mando’ad from the fact that her glass was never quite empty. Still, she hadn’t consumed enough to feel any effect beyond the pleasant warmth in her throat, which was spreading to her gut. The sensation gave Rhia a glow of happiness, despite the twinge of anxiety as Molly looked over her gauntlet. Even though Molly probably couldn’t break them unless she fired a capital ship’s cannon at them, Rhia still felt protective over her stuff. The feeling faded quickly, however, Rhia able to tell that Molly was no amateur when it came to weaponry, though she didn't suspect it in the first place.

Her chin still cupped in her hand, she tilted her head as Molly threw a glance around the room and then, with a sly grin, slid a chair over from another table. One side of Rhia’s mouth quirked up in a knowing grin, and she brought her glass to her lips again, dark eyes watching Molly’s expression as, Rhia assumed, she gripped the chair. Her assumption was confirmed when she heard the loud snap of breaking wood, louder than she expected, and Rhia stilled as attention turned on them, her eyes wide. She didn’t look around to meet anybody’s gaze, keeping herself firmly focused on Molly and slowly, the sound faded from the bar’s collective hearing, overtaken by the music grating from the tiny stereo beside the ‘freshers.

There was a moment of silence between them, Rhia’s glass still at her mouth, the alcohol touching her lips, and then, when Molly started giggling, it was contagious. Shaking with laughter that almost spilled the Quanya down her front, Rhia threw herself back in the chair, giggling as she finally took a gulp of her drink and slammed it down on the table.

“Oh, do not get us kicked out yet, Grimm!” She coughed around the fire in her throat. “I have only had...” Rhia trailed off, one eyebrow cocked as she glanced at her eternally filled glass. Was this her first or second...? She couldn’t go for much more, she didn’t want to get drunk. Her thoughts were whipped away from her internal musing by Molly’s response.

“I would love you. Frelling love you. You don't understand. I need these.”

The look on Molly’s face brought back fond memories for Rhia and, seeing the grin, manic and wild as it was, made her feel good. Seeing people happy was one thing Rhia took quite a bit of pleasure in, no matter how oddly the happiness manifested. The look of violent excitement on Molly’s face wasn’t alien, Rhia had seen it quite a few times before on the faces of young ade who were just handed their first firearm. Or on her own when she first got her own pair. Taking a moment, Rhia thought back on how she’d get in contact with a crafter back on Manda’yaim and then deliver them to Molly. She didn’t want to go back to home just yet. According to the increasingly gleeful in her breast, Rhia was having too much fun to go back.

“I can have them for you within the month.” She said contemplatively. Then leaning forward again, feeling rather sociable, she said with a chuckle, “If you promise me an arm wrestling match with them on. None of my vode- ah, clanmates, have a pair, so it will be a first.”

It was partially a joke, she didn’t expect Molly -- Well, maybe this particular aruetii would go for it. Rhia really did want to try it. She’d never expressed the desire to anyone before, always trying to be the responsible one, but the alcohol loosened her tongue. Allowing the conversation to drift off, Rhia finally glanced about the bar, stretching out her legs under the table, only to feel the splintered wood rolling beneath her boots. She chuckled again, and glanced back at her companion. She realized that the commando still wore her other glove and, with a patient expression, held out her hand for its return.

“Where will you be heading after this? So I know where to deliver them?”

[Molly Grimm]

Molly had been keeping an ever watchful eye on her partner's glass and every time the drink got low, she topped it up. Something told the commando that the girl didn't get out much and part of her wanted to show Rhia a good time. However, Molly only knew of a handful of ways to have a good time and they boiled down to three base options: drinking, frelling, and killing. They were suggestions, really, and could be interchanged and combined to fit the situation.

“I can have them for you within the month.”

She made a face that was akin to disappointment. Although Molly was capable of waiting and biding her time, she did not enjoy it. Rhia had waved a beautiful and deadly weapon in front of her face, let her try it, and then makes her wait a month. She resented the Mandalorian a bit of that. Again she thought about just taking them. That thought was quickly dismissed, however. Molly was beginning to like the woman and she when she thought about it, a month wasn't too long to wait.

Resignation tinted her features as she sighed before taking another gulp of Quanya and refilling her glass. She did this with the crushgaunt and the look of concentration on her face was quite comical. It was difficult to balance the pressure needed to hold the bottle and not reduce it to powder in the beskar grip. Only after placing the bottle on the table and releasing it from the gauntlet, she looked to Rhia and winked, almost saying 'not too shabby, eh?'

“If you promise me an arm wrestling match with them on. None of my vode - ah, clanmates, have a pair, so it will be a first.”

It could be said that she was a little hesitant to agree to such a condition seeing firsthand what these gauntlets were capable of. The thought of having her hand crushed into jagged shards of bone was not one that Molly was looking forward to. After a moment's thought, she shrugged and nodded to the request.
"Sure, why not?" The words came easily enough. There was a bond of trust growing between the pair that had been forged in battle. While both paranoia and suspicion had Molly's ear, Rhia hadn't shown her any reason to doubt her.

Holding out her hand towards the commando, Molly made a face, almost pouting. She knew instantly what Rhia wanted and was unwilling to give it back so soon. She'd only crushed part of a chair and there were so many other things she could try. Hundreds of materials passed through her augmented mind and was topped off with bone. She desperately wanted to feel bone snap in her grip.

Breathing out hard through her nose, Molly pulled the large gauntlet from her hand and slapped it in Rhia's awaiting palm. She didn't appreciate the woman ruining her fun but she wasn't about to make a deal out of it. One month; she only had to wait a month. Then she could snap, break, pummel, and destroy to her heart's content. It was a warming thought on the horizon that gave her hope for the future.

“Where will you be heading after this? So I know where to deliver them?”

Molly's eyes narrowed a little as Rhia threw out that question. While it could be said that their skills were on a comparable level, the Mandalorian still had a lot to learn about how things worked. She was a commando within the Alliance of Free planets. Saying that too loudly on many worlds was as good as a death sentence. A slow grin parted Molly's lips and she shook her head knowingly.
"I'll tell you later." The commando offered instead of revealing the Alliance's location to a bar full of unsavoury characters.
While she doubted anyone would make the connection or be able to piece together the facts, she was unwilling to take the chance.

Taking a draught from the glass, Molly let the Quanya trickle down her throat as she eyed Rhia across the table.
"So your vode," she began, choosing to use the Mandalorian word, "what they like?"
It was odd for Molly to ask anything about anyone. She loathed talking about herself and her past and as such, asking questions of others often prompted questions in return. But her curiosity, for the time being, outweighed such defences.

[Rhia Ischoron]

“Sure, why not?”

The quiet noise of approval at the Molly’s agreement quickly turned into a chuckle when Rhia saw the near-pout on her face. Then, like an impudent child, Molly was snorting and peeling the gauntlet off to slap it back into Rhia’s hand, and Rhia was laughing merrily as she withdrew.

“Just a month.” She said in an encouraging voice, slipping her freeing her own hand of the gauntlet and placing the pair back on the table, her elbow once again pinning them to the surface.

Propping her head up again, she lifted the glass with the other hand and started to sip at it idly, realizing that things were feeling... Well, the only way she could describe it was ‘wavy’. Clearing her throat, she drew the glass away, and almost in a meditative fashion, eyebrows creasing together as she touched the surface with one edge of the glass’ base and then put it down completely. Her fingers slid up the side, and then arched over the mouth, and her eyes flicked up to Molly’s face. “How many times have you filled my glass...?”

“I'll tell you later.”

Still caught in her musing, she felt an edge of irritation slice through her mind, thinking that Molly was answering the question about their drinking. Her lips pressed together in preparation for delivering a harsh retort, but she stopped herself. No, no, no, no, wait... She’d asked something before– Oh, that was about Molly’s location after this. Hah, this alcohol was no good for her brain. The lines of Rhia’s face softened and she sighed, reaching up to rub her palm against her eye, but stopped herself, knowing she’d touched several obviously dirty surfaces about the bar. Blinking purposefully instead, she put both her hands on the surface of the table, and then snickered.

“Right, sorry.”

It slowly dawned on Rhia the reason for Molly’s evasiveness, and she mentally berated herself for the slip. Such a careless question could get the commando in trouble, if she didn’t have the presence of mind to not answer. Which was a distinct possibility, considering what they were currently doing. Rhia had no inkling of Molly’s augmentations, just assuming that Molly was in the same state as herself, and cursing herself. She didn’t want to get Molly in trouble, she actually liked the aruetii.

“So your vode,” The sound of Mando’a jolted Rhia from her drunken contemplation and Rhia’s smile brightened her face. It had been a little while since she’d heard anyone but herself speak it, and Molly’s pronunciation wasn’t that bad. “What they like?”

And wasn’t that quite the question. Like a family man who loved showing off pictures of his kids in his wallet, an obvious affection filtered into Rhia’s current smile, despite the exquisite pang of homesickness. Dark eyes tilted away from Molly, looking up and at the smoke stained ceiling thoughtfully. To her despair, very first person who came to mind was Ilian. As his face popped up in her memory, her smile fell away by a few degrees as she remembered why she was indulging in this celebration in the first place.

Maybe this was why she hadn’t stopped drinking. And why she was lifting the glass to her lips yet again, eyes dulled over with near imperceptible pain.

“As you would imagine any Mandalorian family.” She started with a dry chuckle. “Ischoron is a large clan and I was only recently adopted, but I have a few close friends within it; ‘brothers’ or ‘clanmates’, as those are Basic approximations of ‘vode’...”

Coughing around another flood of alcohol, Rhia wiped her mouth, eyes narrowing at some far off point as she thought. “There is my father, my adoptive father, he is the clan leader. He is... Hah, he is like a really, really big armor-clad rock. I have never seen him get mad or... Well, anything else. Very, ah, what is the word...” She snickered vaguely to herself. “Stoney-faced.”

“There are my friends, my close friends, Rico... Rico and a few others. Rico is also very stoic – I think you might find that to be a common trait in Mandos off of Mandalore, sometimes it is just an act, but, Rico... He is inscrutable. And a bounty hunter, young for a human, I suppose. He might actually be around this sector, he does not spend much time at home.”

And then... Rhia felt bad, horrible even, for not wanting to talk about him. Ilian was the one she felt the most strongly about, the one who elicited the vastest range emotions from her, and the one she loved. Thinking on it without inhibition made it feel as if something had taken a bite out of her middle, she felt like she was missing something and it hurt.

“Then there is Ilian, my... Ah...” She knew the word she wanted to say, but ‘lover’ or ‘boyfriend’ sounded so soft in Basic. And wrong. Rhia felt her irritation flare up again, and, with a violent motion, she slammed back a whole glass before actually gesturing at the bottle and pointing to her cup. “Whatever he is to me, he is still a big, blond, idiot of a man and the whole frakin’ reason you should be filling my glass up faster.”

[Molly Grimm]

“As you would imagine any Mandalorian family.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, hoping that wouldn't be the extent of the explanation. It wasn't every day that she made an effort and being stone walled like that would almost guarantee the woman returned to her cold ways. The chuckle that blurted from Rhia's mouth seemed to indicate she would continue and Molly continued to stare.

“Ischoron is a large clan and I was only recently adopted, but I have a few close friends within it; ‘brothers’ or ‘clanmates’, as those are Basic approximations of ‘vode’...”

"Adopted?" Molly echoed with a smirk, "sounds fun."
She couldn't get the adolescent connotation of the word from colouring her thoughts. It made the whole process, which was very important to those participating, seem childish. Molly imagined social workers and orphanages, and all the other trappings that went along with adoption. It was the odd combination of disenfranchised and abandoned youths and heavy armour that made the murderer grin.

“There is my father, my adoptive father, he is the clan leader. [...] Very, ah, what is the word... Stoney-faced.”

The woman had managed to keep a good majority of the annoyance from her expression as Rhia continued speaking. Molly nodded and sipped at her drink, eyeing the surroundings before making eye contact again. She had no idea who this man was and couldn't muster the motivation to care. He was a stone wrapped in steel in her mind.

“There are my friends, my close friends, Rico... Rico and a few others. [...] He might actually be around this sector, he does not spend much time at home.”

And she continued. God, did she continue, talking about another person she had no clue about and no desire to meet. Molly was certain she should have stayed quiet and just got smashed with Rhia. Talking always complicated things. This Rico guy sounded as fun as having your genome ripped apart and reassembled; and Molly knew how much fun that had been.

“Then there is Ilian, my... Ah...”

"Frellbuddy? Molly threw out there casually before the Mandalorian continued, doing so in a way that Molly wondered if she had been heard or not. Whoever this Ilian was he had Rhia quite out of her mind and confused. She found herself paying a little more attention at this point. With a grin, Molly finished her glass and placed it back upon the table, letting it rest empty for a moment. He must have been good to get her so flustered.

“Whatever he is to me, he is still a big, blond, idiot of a man and the whole frakin’ reason you should be filling my glass up faster.”

"I'll drink to that alright." She snatched up the bottle and topped up both of their glasses.
While she could easily tell that there was more to this than Rhia was saying, Molly had no desire to listen to some frelling sob story. There were countless avenues she could have explored from this one, a myriad of ways that Molly could have grown closer to her drinking buddy. But she refrained, not really giving two shits.

The bottle hit home on the table again and she took another long draw from the glass. She took a moment to pause and evaluate her inebriation. It was beginning to erode the edges of her mind, rendering them fuzzy and warm. Glancing at the bottle, she imagined the rest should get her a nice buzz she could coast on for an hour before her liver removed the toxins from her blood and sobered her up. If she was really lucky, the effects may last until they were kicked out.

Frowning, Molly moved her arm awkwardly and cursed under her breath. The wound was annoying her and she thought about punching it into compliance. Pushing the sour expression from her face, Molly forced a smile for Rhia before she downed her glass.

[Rhia Ischoron]

“Adopted? ...Sounds fun.”

Pausing, Rhia shrugged. She had a happy memory of her adoption, though it was vague. “It is a quick affair, just a few short words and it is done. We do not have time to trifle with paper work or the like, seeing as how most of us never live to an old age. I was adopted into Ischoron in the back of a dropship after destroying a Confederation base on Onderon.”

The Mandalorian concept of adoption truly solidified in Rhia’s head just how transient life was for them, as individuals, and how their culture dealt with hit. A few short words and one was adopted, a full fledged member of the family. Just a sentence and two beings could be married, another and they could get divorced. As her alcohol-ridden mind thought on it, she grew more morose, slumping back in her chair and grimacing at the dirty edge of the table. She didn’t want to talk much more about her adoption, thinking back to the very first time, with Sevrath, so she went on to talk about Rico instead. And then Ilian. As she struggled for a word to describe her spurned lover, Molly was kind - or cruel, in Rhia’s mind - enough to provide one.

“Frellbuddy?”

Rhia’s face, though already rubicund from the alcohol, blossomed with heat and she sputtered, doubling over as she tried not to start choking on her drink. To say the least, Molly’s assessment was far too vulgar for the until recently celibate Mando’ad, and Rhia nearly sprayed her mouthful across the table. “I... Um- Yes, uh... Yes, I sup... pose. Not, uh- Well, we did not just... frak or anything. It was sorta... like, awesome, really... Yeah.”

Giving up and frustrated with her stuttering, she slammed the glass down on the table and Molly was kind enough to refill it for her, complying with her curse-ridden demand.

“I'll drink to that alright.”

Watching the drink pour into the glass, Rhia barely waited until Molly had lifted the bottle away before picking it up and drinking more. The situation had become far too distressing for the baar’ur, but she saw a way out. The fuzziness in her brain told her that if she kept drinking, she could forget. Hell, she was already forgetting quite a few things, like... Like... She didn’t even remember. She could forget her stuttering and blushing and now, she didn’t have to think about Ilian, or Molly’s evaluation of her sex life or... Really, anything at all. She forced herself to down the entire glass, ignoring the burn - It was a feeling which was actually treasured among the Mando’ad, but Rhia had never had it much in drink form - before putting it down and demanding more, her next words significantly easier in coming thanks to the alcohol.

“You know, he just... Like, he was- is such a- A- wanderer. A real pleasure-seeker. I dunno, best I left Mandalore. The... The fraker’s better off without me anyway...” Her voice trailed off into a mutter and she grit her teeth at the anger that sparked up in her gut. Stars, did this hurt. She needed more drink, and hunching over the table, she gave a somewhat manic chuckle. “I really liked him, Grimm. Liked him a whole lot. I dunno who fraked it up this time.”

Rhia wasn’t interested in drinking more than her share, but the bottle was big, and this time, she reached for it herself. Glancing at the commando over the tilted bottle, Rhia saw her moving her arm awkwardly, and something like recognition pinged inside her brain. However, the passages, blocked off with intoxication, didn’t find the reason for the recognition right away and Rhia was already halfway done with a glass before she realized what it was.

Smacking her lips, she gestured, doing her best to keep the finger she pointed at Molly’s arm steady. She managed it well enough, but before she spoke, an airy belch bubbled up in her throat and she snapped her mouth shut, expelling the pungent burp through her nose. Then she tried speaking again.

“Your arm... How’sit doing?” With her word slurring together a little, she was obviously without the mental capacity to treat Molly, but she was still upright which was something. “When- When we get back, just- Uh, my medkit, I will get you some bacta.”

Rhia felt like she could go for a good few more drinks before completely crashing. Right now, she felt fuzzy and a little belligerent.