A Cell Of A Different Story

As far as spaceports went, Iziz was normally a very reputable one known for good service and a nice atmosphere. But not today. On this day, they were dealing with hundreds upon hundreds of refugees from Mandalore pouring in through the small spaceport. The authorities were doing their best to keep things organized for the officials, but it obviously wasn't enough.

Elina stuck close to Wes, her counterpart in this mission, as they meandered through the masses. While the day was cool and with few clouds in the air, the atmosphere was tense, choking. With so many people in one place, it felt like they were one large body, swaying back and forth likes waves crashing in the sea.

The Zeltron didn't like it. All the high-running emotions were messing with her mind; she couldn't keep them all out. It was as if everyone was screaming how they felt and she was taking the brunt of their pain. She clutched tighter to Wes, trying to keep up a strong facade even though she felt as if she were being physically assaulted.

"Remind me to make reservations next time," she said through a strained smile, trying to play down the rising hysteria she felt.

Being surrounded by so many different emotions, hopes, and fears had begun to screw with her own internal pheromones...and the Force only knew what she was projecting, though she hoped it was serenity, or an easy flair, or something pleasant.

Wes knew more about this mention than she did, so she could only trust that he knew where they were going. As far as she knew, the cell had lost contact outside of Iziz, in the more wild part of Onderon. She assumed that that was where they were going. She hoped so, anyway. It was be easier to think and to breathe out in the wild, than here in this crowd of wounded and frightened refugees.

"Force," she breathed, closing her eyes for a moment, still clinging to Wes. "Are we there yet?"

Personally, Wes didn’t like crowds, especially not crowds of civvies. They just didn’t blend well with him. He’d been a criminal, a military officer and then a criminal again; he’d never had anything close to what was considered ‘normal’, if anything could be called normal.

Acting like a refugee was hard, refugees would stoop, and look like little weaklings who’d wouldn’t mind if someone stepped on them, hell, they’d ask for more. If you were normal you could pull that off, since it wouldn’t actually be a big change from the normal procedure.

For Wes, however, it was near impossible. He was used to walking like the cocky bastard he was, shoulders set properly, head up, eyes staring at whomever and whatever they wanted to stare at, and the most infuriating grin he could conjure if he thought it’d do him any good. The persona of anything other than someone who’d bite back if you bit them was hard for anyone who was accustomed to fighting for their living.

He could pull it off, certainly, but it was taking a lot of mental strength to not knock the teeth out of anyone who tried to oppress him like they did to the refugees. The whole body language of the crowd didn’t help either, it made him wish for the first time in his life that he wasn’t so good at kinetic conversation. It was the true face of what the Confederation was doing to the galaxy.

He could feel Sheri clutching him, and he could entirely understand why. As a Zeltron she had the knack of feeling others emotions, a trait that was closely related to the kinetic conversation of the Lorrdians, just on the mental plane rather than the physical one. Her remark, while aimed to hide how shaken she was, didn’t work on Wes, he could see her stance; he knew perfectly well that she didn’t like this any more than he did.

When she asked if they were there yet, he could hear her want to get out of the crowd, and he agreed entirely. Snaking a hand around her waist, more as a secure anchor than anything else as the crowd was constantly tugging them in different directions, he forged a path forward, pushing away people and refugees and leaving a trail of exclamations and protests in his wake, but he gave them no heed. It wasn’t as if they could do anything.

They came to a control post and Wes noticed that most of the refugees didn’t get beyond that point. Loosing the persona of a refugee, Wes approached, pulling out the forged passes they’d received before boarding the refugee ship.

“Excuse me!” He called, trying to sound as demanding as he could. “We want entrance into the city proper, we have the correct passes.” He wafted the passes at their faces, not actually giving them the chance to look at them. One annoyed official snatched the passes from his hand and gave Wes a glare before he read them. He nodded slowly.

“These check out, you may pass, Mr. and Mrs.,” he gave Wes a look. “Abudi.” Wes swore again he’d kill whoever made those passes, as he gave the official a pleasant smile and took the passes back. They passed without further ado, and entered the one of the many markets that dotted the city of Iziz. The crowd was thin, a change from the refugee group.

“We need to find a doctor,” he said, pocketing the passes. If they lost them they’d be stuck out in the wilderness. “He’s got information on the latest events on Onderon, and a connection to the cell. Our communication went through him; he’s the one that told us something had gone wrong, although he couldn’t give details. He lives in one of the more run down parts of town, near a cantina called The Lucky Cannok”

As they made their way towards the Lucky Cannok, the crowd began to thin out and Elina finally felt like she could breathe again. She noticed that Wes still had an arm around her and gave a small smirk at it.

"Hey, Intel, you never told me your last name was Abudi," she teased, sliding from his hold. "Ever think that that could be why you aren't married?"

It was times like these where, despite it all, she could joke with Wes made Elina seriously consider no longer traveling alone. She wasn't a solitary person by any means--in fact, she disliked being ignored or isolated for long periods of time--but it often was what her job required of her. And it was a way to shield herself from unsavory characters that she seemed to attract to her like a magnet.

But she didn't like thinking about stuff like that for too long...it made her feel sad. And she didn't like feeling sad.

It wasn't long before they reached the rougher part of town. It was obvious by the burnt smell of cigarra ash that wafted in the air combined with how run-down the buildings looked. This part of Onderon was in direct contrast with the nicer, cleaner streets of Iziz. She didn't doubt that the folks here were less than sociable either.

Finally, they came upon what looked to be the remains of a bar. The building seemed to be burnt down, a sign barely hanging by one hinge moved back and forth in the faint breeze. It read L ky C nnok. She put the pieces together.

"What a lovely establishment," she said dryly. "I especially love the burnt-to-a-crisp feeling they were going for. It matches nicely to the old feeling of this entire town. Think they'd give me some design tips?"

It was obvious that the doctor wouldn't be here, but why the bar had been burnt down was just another question to add to the growing list. He had to be close, though, so Elina followed Wes' lead.

As the Lucky Cannok had simply been a waypoint, it didn’t bother Wes that the establishment was burned down, probably for the better as glit-biters probably had it as their local hang and glitterstim source. As Sheri spoke, Wes remained silent, focusing at the task at hand. He was known as a jokester and a flirt, but even he had to be serious when on the job.

“His apartment is around the next corner, there isn’t an actual address, but it said it would be easy to spot.” He continued walking as he spoke, and when he turned the corner, he got what the files meant. Over their heads, was a flashing sign, spelling out ‘Doctor Lemark’s Clinic. “His name was Lemark, yeah?” Wes shook his head.

They entered and Wes tapped the small bell on the counter, and a Twi’lek receptionist showed up moments later. “You have an appointment?” She asked, looking them both up and down.

“Yes, under Garik Pennel.” He pulled out an identi card and showed it to her, and the Twi’lek nodded and pointed them to the waiting room. When they entered it was fairly deserted, just a sleeping toydarian in one corner, and a groaning wookiee in another.

“He’ll come eventually,” Wes sighed, knowing that the doctor would most likely take his precious time.

Wes may have been content to wait, but Elina was not. This entire section of town gave her the creeps and the sooner they could be gone from it, the better off she felt they'd be. On that note, she decided that she'd just go find the doctor instead of waiting for him to come to them.

Without telling Wes what she was going to do, she left the room, moving past the Twi'lek receptionist.

"Hey, wait!" the receptionist called, causing her to stop. "You can't go in there."

Elina backed up until she was at face with the Twi'lek. She gave her an endearing smile. "Don't worry about it; the doctor's expecting me."

"I know, you came in with Mr. Pennel--"

The Zeltron lowered the files the Twi'lek was looking at. "You misunderstand me. I mean, he's expecting me."

Using her pheromones, she tried to twist the Twi'lek's feelings around so that she'd understand her meaning. It was a trick she used all too often, finding beings easily manipulated by it.

The Twi'lek grew flustered. "Oh...oh. I see."

"Good. So you understand why he won't be very pleased if I'm not let in right away."

She still seemed hesitant. "But, then why did you come in with that other man?"

Elina gave her a serious look. "Have you been outside? It's not the safest part of town. I needed a little...protection."

This answer seemed to pacify her. "Oh, yes, of course. I know what you mean. There's all sorts of shady characters around nowadays." A pause. "Anyway, I'll let you in to see the doctor now. Have a nice day."

"Thank you," she said, before striding by into the hallway that was now open to her.

It was a long, narrow corridor and she swore she could hear the skittering of rats along it. Though that could be attributed to the leaking pipes that stuck out of one wall. It was painted in white, but the paint had began to chip. The finishing touch came from the rotting floor tiles; they'd obviously been unable to afford anything better in such a rough part of town.

Elina got the shivers from being in such a cold, damp place but she continued onward, determined to find the doctor. She hoped that Wes wouldn't worry about her; after all, she was a big girl...she could handle herself.

She finally came to the end of the hallway, to a door marked with the doctor's name on it. She knocked a few times.

No answer.

She knocked a bit more. "Doctor Lemark? Are you in there?"

When still there came no answer, she tried opening the door. It stuck for a moment before sliding open. Elina's hands flew to her mouth as she saw the doctor on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood, his throat slit and a vibroblade projecting from his chest.

Turning around, a sudden chill ran up her spine. The doctor had been murdered. Someone knew he knew information. That also meant that someone knew he was going to tell it to his contacts...which were Wes and Elina. That meant...

Someone knew they were there.

She had to tell Wes, had to get them both out of there before--

The smell of smoke reached her nostrils, burning them. Her eyes noticed the small plume of dark smoke moving from the reception area. Horror filled her eyes. She didn't hesitate, moving back towards the waiting room as fast as she could. The closer she got, however, the thicker the smoke got. Soon, she could see the orange flames dancing along the windows.

The Twi'lek receptionist was frantically trying to open the door, but it was locked.

They were going to be burned alive.

She had to find Wes!

Pushing through the dark smoke that had engulfed the inside of the room, she called out to her colleague, hoping he was alright and could hear her.

This post has been edited by Elina Sheri on Feb 4 2008, 04:18 PM

He had just picked up an entertainment holobook and looked through the contents, mostly local stars scandals, when he noticed the smoke snaking out from the small cracks in the half broken door. He threw the holobook down and stood abruptly, making the patients jump and look at him like he’d just fired a blaster.

Trying the door controls, they didn’t respond, he pushed the door, and when it didn’t yield, he backed away, getting ready to kick down the door. Raising his leg, he aimed at the centre, and when his foot hit its mark, the already weakened door yielded to the force of his kick. As the door fell, more smoke rolled in, making Wes back away slightly and cover his nose and mouth from the smoke.

Smoke was licking the walls, barely audible through the thick smoke. He heard someone in the reception, and he called, “Sheri!” Hearing a scuffling response, and forged forward, his eyes watering in the smoke and the heat of the flames. He grabbed a form, but as he brought her closer he saw it was the Twi’lek girl who’d been there earlier, not the Zeltron he was working with.

Deciding it would probably be better to get out rather than search in vain in the smoke for Sheri, he grabbed the chair behind the reception desk and easily hefted it towards the windows, but they didn’t as much as get a scratch on them. Drawing his blaster, he found the door, chasing the Twi’lek who was frantically trying to open it away. He stepped back, just seeing the door through the smoke, and turned the blasters power to full power, he didn’t care that it would drain the power cell of the weapon, as staying alive was more important.

Firing several blasts, the weak metal of the door glowed a fiery red, before another blast penetrated the lock on the door, creating a melted crater in it. With a powerful kick, it flew open, and smoke tumbled out. The oxygen fuelling the fire made it grow, and Wes ran out, followed by the few sentient beings that had been in the building. He didn’t see Sheri though.

“Sheri!”

Elina's head swam as she fought to stay conscious. The room was filling up with smoke, and she was able to get less and less oxygen. Finally, she decided to simply hold her breath, using her arm to shield her face from the dark ash that seemed to be swallowing her entire body whole.

Faintly, she thought she heard someone call her name.

She turned her head towards the sound, but was greeted with more flames filing in from where she'd come from. Whomever had killed the doctor was doing a good job covering the evidence; not only that, but they were going to end up taking out two Alliance operatives at that.

“Sheri!”

There it was again. Someone was calling her name. She tried to yell out, but her voice was hoarse, raspy. She coughed as her lungs tried to get rid of the ash and grime that was in them due to all the smoke inhalation. She felt very dizzy, and considered sitting down for a moment only to realize how crazy such an idea was. If she stopped moving now, she was certain that she wouldn't start back up.

"Wes!" she tried to cry out, being rewarded for her troubles with more wracking coughs.

Determined, she began to push her way through the opaque clouds of smoke towards where she hoped the exit was. There was screaming, loud sounds of panic. Hysteria gripped at her chest. She had to escape. It couldn't end like this, not now, not here.

She felt herself hit a wall and it felt almost cool to the touch despite the smoke that ravaged through the building. Feeling around it as best she could, Elina finally came across a window. In desperation, she pushed against it, throwing all her weight into the action. However, it was a futile attempt at best and she felt herself slipping into the darkness. Black crawled against the edges of her vision, but she couldn't give up. Not yet.

She fumbled for her hold-out blaster, reaching for it like a blind person would. When she finally felt it secure in her hands, she brought it up and fired a few rounds against the glass. The first shot simply ricocheted off of it, but the ones that followed seemed to fracture it, weakening it. In one last ditch attempt to rescue herself, she threw all her weight into the window...and broke through.

The glass shattered beneath the impact and she tumbled out, past the scorching flames and plumes of smoke. She met the ground roughly, rolling several times until she came to a stop, her body marked by various shards of glass. Her entire body ached, and she coughed violently while also sucking in large amounts of oxygenated air. Strands of her auburn hair fell into her face which was now marked with black streaks of soot.

Elina lifted her head up to stare at the building that had almost been her death. The flames had no engulfed the building in its entirety, furiously eating away at the plaster, leaving a metal skeleton behind.

She knew that she had to get up, get moving. Whomever had done this wouldn't be far, and it was quite probable that they'd want to finish what they started by killing her as well. On that same note, she had to find Wes, had to make sure he was all right.

So it was with great difficulty that she willed herself to stand, though her body rejected it the first time, causing her to double over for a moment. The coughing continued, though it lessened considerably. It would be smart to get herself to a doctor, but she couldn't risk endangering the mission at the moment. Her personal health could wait.

Nearby, she noticed a group of people gathered and figured that was her best shot at finding Wes. There were no emergency personnel on the scene yet, but that didn't surprise her as it was a lower quality part of the town. There were, however, many rubberneckers eager to see what was going on. Typical, she thought.

Her eyes scanned the crowd full of people who looked to be in no better shape than her until they fell upon an older gentlemen. Relief immediately filled her as she rushed to her friend.

"Wes!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. The action caused her to wince, reminding her of the cuts she'd suffered from escaping out the window. She pulled back. "I found the doctor. He was dead. I think whoever killed him set this fire. I think they wanted to kill us, too. Someone knows we're here."

She spoke in a rushed tone, out of breath. Her head was spinning, and she struggled to remain upright.

This post has been edited by Elina Sheri on Feb 6 2008, 12:43 AM

“Hey, hey, relax.” Wes said quietly, clutching Sheri by the shoulders to both steady her and comfort her in a subtle way. “We knew we’d meet trouble, the doctor being dead isn’t odd, but we’re not stuck yet.” When sirens could be heard in the distance, he surveyed the crowd, before turning his gaze back to Sheri, taking in her wounds from the dive out the window.

He gave her an apologetic look. “We can’t stick around; we’ll have to lick our wounds somewhere else.” He took a hold of her hand and tugged her along, choosing to take the alleys and backways rather than the streets, as they both looked very suspicious in their state, but Wes had a plan. Iziz wasn’t a city free of the criminal element, and they’d just have to merge with it. Until the morning at least.

“There’ll be a flophouse somewhere in the vicinity; we can hide there until tomorrow. We can take care of your cuts, and get some rest,” he said, as they turned a corner in a dark dank alley. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the city gates and hire some trained Beast Riders’ drexl. It’s quite a flight to the place.”

Another corner revealed a run down building in an equally run down street. Over the building hung a flashing sign barely saying For Lease, the L was missing, but it didn’t make the sign harder to read.

“C’mon,” he murmured, heading towards the run down flop house, getting a room would be fairly easy, as they didn’t deny anyone to stay there.

“Hey, hey, relax. We knew we’d meet trouble, the doctor being dead isn’t odd, but we’re not stuck yet."

Elina nodded, comforted by his logic. He was right; they had come expecting the worse and they had been right. The doctor, their contact, was dead and someone had tried to cover it up and had almost killed them in the process as well. Normally, Elina would shrug off her concern but the smell of the smoke was still pungent on her skin and served as a reminder that she'd almost just been killed.

She could feel her internal emotions running high, and she briefly closed her eyes, taking a moment to steady her rapidly beating heart. She wasn't dead; neither was Wes. And as long as they were still alive, the mission still had a chance of success.

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed Wes looking over her wounds and thought she saw concern in his eyes, clouded as they were instead of their normally vibrant reflection.

"Just a few scratches," she told him. "Nothing I haven't gotten worse on a bad date." She gave him a wink to reassure him that she was fine, even though she knew she'd inhaled a lot of smoke.

“We can’t stick around; we’ll have to lick our wounds somewhere else.”

"Agreed."

He began to lead them down an adjacent alleyway, dark and desolate as most of the town seemed to be. She wouldn't have admit it, but she was glad that she wasn't alone in this entire thing. If she was being honest, she was glad to have Wes around.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to the city gates and hire some trained Beast Riders’ drexl. It’s quite a flight to the place.”

Elina's mouth puckered as if she'd tasted something she didn't like. "Flying. Wonderful." She'd never been a fan of flight; space travel was tolerable, but air travel was not.

She stared ahead at the flop house that had fallen into disrepair not surprisingly. Similar to the doctor's office, its paint--what little there was left--was now a sickly ashen colour. The door didn't seem to look too sturdy either, and there was only a faint amount of life coming from the windows.

"Oh, Intel, you do take me to the nicest places," she murmured, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

As soon as they entered, Elina began wishing she was somewhere else. Maybe on the beaches of Zeltros. Maybe at some nice bar in the upper parts of Coruscant. Maybe on a quiet trail between the massive trees on Kashyyyk. Anywhere but here. But she didn't complain about it as there was no point to.

There was one elderly woman at what looked to be the semblance of a front desk and she was giving them an evil eye as they entered, as if she expected them to be trouble.

Elina leaned up to whisper into Wes' ear. "Follow my lead."

"What do you want?" the old woman asked in a nasally voice, eying them with suspicion.

The Zeltron offered her a placating smile. "I'd like a room, please."

"I bet you would."

Elina's smile didn't waver.

The old woman grinned toothily. "It's gonna cost you."

"Fine. I--"

"I want twenty percent of whatever you make off of that guy." She pointed to Wes.

It took a moment for Elina to understand what the old woman was implying. The insinuation was startling to her once she did realize it, and she felt her skin turn a shade darker in embarrassment, but she tried to play it off. The woman thought she was a practicer of the Galaxy's oldest occupation, obviously. Elina saw no reason to enlighten her since it'd give them a good cover in such a shady part of town.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to haggle. "Ten percent."

"Fifteen."

"Deal," she said.

The old woman nodded, shuffling through a box of keys. "I'll give you one of the good rooms upstairs. Just don't make too much of a racket."

The old hag handed her a key and Elina promised that she'd try and keep it down, turning back to Wes. She grabbed him by the arm and led him upstairs.

"We've got the room for the night. She says it's one of her best, but who knows? As long as it gives us a chance to rest and heal, it's fine with me. I don't know about you, but I've had a very long day."

When the old lady had announced what payment she wanted and pointed at him, it took Wes a moment to realise what she was going on about. When he did, his mouth formed into a little ‘oh’. He kept his mouth shut, opting that not saying anything would be wiser. When the negotiations were over, Wes was fighting the urge to laugh. He obediently followed Sheri when she led him up, trying to keep his expression blank.

” We've got the room for the night."

“As long as we’re quiet?” He queried innocently, giving Sheri as innocent a look a forty-seven year old guy could pull off, but he didn’t persist on the matter. With his age he’d learned wisdom when it came to women, and he didn’t want to stir anything up on the mission. Not that one could stir anything up with someone like Sheri, but he was old, no matter how young he felt.

Taking the key from Sheri’s hands he searched for the room number, and when he found the room, opened it up and quickly entered. He quickly darted around the room to check for anything suspicious, and he managed to find a holorecorder hidden in a fake bouquet, with a clear view of the bed.

“Creeps,” he muttered, as he picked up the small holorecorder and dropped it on the ground to step on it. With a satisfied crunch, the recorder was dead, and he deemed the room at least semi cleared. Now all they had to do was wait for morning.

Elina plopped herself down on the bed, feeling the adrenaline from before fading quickly. It was a similar sensation to having been on glitterstim or some such drug and then crashing after it wore off. Without the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she seemed to be able to feel every cut, scrape, and bruise on her beaten body. Not only that, but she felt physically exhausted.

"Dibs on the bed," she said, her voice rather lackluster. Her skin, too, had dulled to a a pale red, lacking the warmth it normally had.

She took a shallow, shaky breath, finding it hard to breathe for a moment. However, she dismissed it immediately. They had larger worries than her health; they had yet to find the missing cell and that was imperative to the Alliance maintaining their vigilance on Onderon.

The Zeltron wanted nothing better than to crawl into the bed and fall asleep but she knew better. First, she needed to take care of all her wounds otherwise they could get infected. Secondly, she needed to decide who was going to do guard duty first--her or Wes.

She looked at him, wondering if he was as exhausted as she was. Not much seemed to phase him, but he still looked considerably more stressed recently, making him look older than he was, contrary to his usual mirth-filled features.

"So, you want to take the first watch or should I?" she asked as she began to sift through the few medical supplies that she'd brought.

Wes kept silent as she claimed the bed, grinning slightly as she called dibs and he settled on the small cough in the room. Undoubtedly it was only there for decoration, as the main focus seemed to be to get you to look at the bed. He dropped his bag by his feet and dug a hand in, rummaging around until he found a medpac he could use. He noted she had various medical supplies, but the medpac was the easiest way of preventing infection at the moment.

“I’ll take the first watch,” he said, getting up from the sofa with a soft groan. He could feel the effects of the escape from the fire now. His arms were sore from beating the door and windows with that chair, the force he’d used and it bouncing back at him had probably not been good for him. “But first we should take care of your cuts. I have some bacta you can put on them.”

Wes stopped by the foot of the bed and cracked open the medpack, pulling out several bacta patches and ointment. He yawned as he handed over some to Sheri and motioned for her to turn around. “I’ll apply some bacta on the areas you can’t reach,” he offered, giving her a tired smile, feeling their hours of seemingly constant travelling up to this point finally taking its toll on him.

They’d mostly been in constant motion since stepping onto the ship heading for Mandalore, a few hours of sleep on the trips, but not enough to keep them going on this level of activity for this long. The sudden weary feeling in his whole body was mostly because he knew he had time to sleep now and catch some rest, but first he’d act as the first watch.

“I’ll apply some bacta on the areas you can’t reach."

She gave him an equally tired smile, adding, "Alright, but be forewarned: I'm ticklish."

Her clothing was composed of civilian clothes--not her normal, rather skimpy attire--so that she could blend in with the environment; after all, it was hard enough when her skin colour gave away her alien nature and she had thought her hunter's outfit would add to any unwanted attention. But now the clothing wreaked of smoke as if she'd been in some rank den filled with cigarra smokers.

So it was with some relief that she stripped the first layer, consisting of a jacket and top shirt, off, leaving just her undershirt which stopped just above her stomach. She was used to wearing less-than-modest attire, so she thought nothing of it. Furthermore, as a Zeltron, she'd flashed much more than just her stomach before. And it wasn't as if she expected Wes to take advantage of her; there was a deep mutual respect that ran between them, hidden beneath the friendly banter and light flirting.

"Do your worse," she prompted, jokingly.

Elina then applied the bacta to the cuts she could reach herself, wincing occasionally as they stung. Occasionally, she'd find a shard of glass still embedded in her skin--those were always so fun to get out; they hurt like Hell, in truth.

"How're you holding up, Intel?" she asked by way of small talk as he continued applying the salve and bacta to her back wounds.

Wes gave a small weary smile at Sheri’s talk. She was a one of a kind, at least he’d never met anyone like her before, and he was quite well travelled. He carefully applied the ointment to the small cuts, gently dabbing it on. Out of pure habit rather than anything else he was careful when pulling shards out and applying the bacta, as he’d always known how painful it could be for someone to roughly treat wounds, the large scar on his back was a testimony of that.

He noted that even when she’d been covered quite thoroughly, several shards had managed to find their way through the clothing. One particularly nasty shard was set in quite deep, but he pulled it out quickly, and applied a bacta patch before it could start bleeding.

“I’m a bit roughed up,” he answered to her question, noting how it looked like his wrist was swelling up slightly. He’d have to smear some bacta on that. “Tired, but I can see you’re tired too.” He finished up on her cuts and withdrew to the couch again, his head drooping as he put the medkit down and flopped down on the soft pillows. He knew it probably had years of filth and unknown substances on it, but he wasn’t picky.

He pulled his blaster out of his holster, checking the power cell and noting how he’d have to change it after some more shots. Lowering the power on it, he placed it on the table by the couch, within reach and easy to grab if they did find trouble here.

She watched him sink onto the couch, and realized that he had meant what he said about being tired. While she trusted him enough to know that he'd keep watch the best he could, she couldn't help but wonder if he might fall asleep...Not because he wanted to, but because his body forced him to. At the same time, however, she wasn't sure if she had the energy to remain awake and vigilant enough to keep watch. Moreover, she doubted she'd have the strength to fight anyone off, either.

As Elina slowly sank onto the bed, up by the pillows, she felt guilty for making Wes take the first watch especially because of how exhausted he looked. She bit her bottom lip, watching him for a few moments. Finally, she got up, her body protesting in the action and grabbed one of the blankets from off the bed.

In a compassionate act, she draped it over him.

"I'll take first watch," she told him. "I have a few caffa pills I can take; it'll be no problem. Besides, you look like you need the sleep more than I do."

The latter part was partly a lie since they both needed the rest equally bad, but that point was moot. Someone had to keep watch.

"And don't bother trying to argue with me," she said, shooting him the most charming smile she could muster. "I always get my way."

Removing her own hold-out blaster, she checked its charge and noticed that it was startlingly low...but she wasn't expecting much trouble tonight, so it would be fine, she hoped. She stood by the window--the only one in the rather dank room--not daring to sit or lay down lest she fall asleep.

"Night, Wes," she whispered quietly before looking back out the window.