Noventa - A Star Wars Story

She wandered off, a small smile playing at her lips.

/scene

"See you around." He repeated without flinching as she had passed, not turning his head after her, but keeping his smug expression.

She grinned in return, her own quite sharp. "So they tell me." She started walking, passing close to him. "Get in touch when you're really to start looking for crystals, Sharn. I'll see you around."

"I am amazing so with me amazing things happen." He grinned, revealing moderately sharp teeth. "Are you amazing too, Vizsla?"

She burst out laughing at that last statement. "Kriff me, that is an amazing summary."

He thought for a blink.

"I wouldn't be averse to such a scenario. Sexual acts can benefit from prior caloric intakes, intellectual stimulation of the cortex and activation of the limbic system via proximity. I'd add some wine for a spike in reward-seeking dopamine and estrogen flush in you due to increased acetate levels... and lasers or any holo-projectors. I assume that medichlorians in you and me may be active in all endocrine reactions if excited by intensity of quantum-mechanical transformations. Amplified energy output from symbiotic blood cells may lead to exponential flush, sensitivity of all soft tissues and swelling of our cavernous bodies."

He smirked. "Yes, I suppose I hypothesise that those strong in the Force may have it strong in the fuck."

She chuckled at his response. "Possibly, though there are some other things I want to look into first."

"How would someone date you, anyway? Dinner, then cuddle on the couch and read from the latest theoretical physics journals?"

"Data-gathering. A precaution, even a standard procedure, as I seem to be committing to collaborating with you. Not unpleasant though. Your skin pigmentation isn't blue, but red is the next best thing. Your parents' genes certainly pulled out a meiotic stunt with this curvature and coloration." He raised his brow, the smugness never gone. "I am not one to fret over my physiology or be abashed by how my brain processes sexual stimuli. I trust my organs. Chiss evolution has endowed them with superior algorithms."

He fuelled superior organs with a fresh intake of atmospheric oxygen.

"Besides, your flirtatious response might indicate you don't rule out a carnal turn as a consequence of your curiosity so I might have abducted just the right idea and see no compelling reason to camouflage my intent to seize an opportunity if it arises amid consensual signalling."

"Yeah," she acknowledged, nodding. She noticed the aze, but she'd never particularly minded being looked at. "What, see something you like?" She teased.

His memory registered the fact. He was not a bar person, but he could come by if he had a purpose.

"I assume you are still working on your Mandalorian armour. Rarely would one be seen without." Once again would his gaze wander across without a tinge of shame.

"Yeah... I tend bar at the Twelve Parsecs from Nowhere. It's on the edge of the city," she said, nodding in agreement.

"I might, if it does not collide with more pressing matters." He paused. "But we'll meet for some tests anyway. I operate out of a freighter, Strange Charm." He told her the hangar number. "You mentioned a bar."

"That was more my point, yes. Finding one of those that someone brought here," she said, nodding. "I think we could help one another, if you have an interest."

"I make claims for keen minds to challenge them in a methodical way. This is how science works." He refused to absorb her point. "Traditions can be a resource." He shrugged. "Natural formations are unlikely, the planet shares little with Jedha, Ilum or Krayt, but it cannot be ruled out. More likely, former Force-dabblers have scattered some around. And..." He pointed a finger at her. "You don't know only until you come to know. Should it be my understanding that you would be grateful for my assistance in your kyber hunt?""

An eyebrow rose and she cocked her hip to the side. "Traditions aren't good to indulge in uncritically, no. But it's not like my people haven't learned that. I have enough of a brain in my head to know that much, so kindly don't make assumptions. They lead to as many mistakes as tradition."

"Anyway, maybe we can find some around Noventa. You never know."

"I know how to build more effective things with them than a portable laser stick." He cringed a little. "Following tradition invites mistakes of the past. The most egregious of them - to use before understanding, or without it." He looked where her hands went. "Still, we might be after the same thing. I need kybers for my research, precisely for their hyper-energy properties. At least until I learn how to synthesize them on an industrial scale."

"Well, I wouldn't say no to either of those, either, but yes, kyber," she said, resting her hands on her him with an amused expression. His statement made her raise an eyebrow. "That so? Well... I guess it could be seen as religious. As much a family tradition as anything, though. Plus a well-made one is damn effective."

"I assume kyber, not some random lecuosphenite or a diamond-grain bit for your hammer drill." He mused. "So, willing to dabble into religious fetishes after all?" He took his hand away. "There was a time a lot of them passed through my hands."

"Accurate," she agreed. "I like creating machinery, armor, and weapons. I'm also a bartender, and I'm pretty good as whacking things with a big vibroax. Though I'm working on upgrading... Need to find a crystal, though."

He hesitated for a very short moment, never truly sold on this greeting custom, but decided to take her hand and squeeze it, for experimental purposes. Physical contact with her tingled, probably because of the Force, and so he awkwardly held onto the grip for a moment, discerning the sensation with a small, thoughtful pout. "The texture of your hand suggests manual labour, Vizsla, I can tell despite the oil residue, and this is a scrapyard. My assertion is that you tinker for a part of your living. What is it usually?" In Sharn's case, his goo gun would point to craft-level engineering.