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Atton really needed to stop touching his head.
He also needed to stop thinking of himself as Atton; Theemin was going to be the name for the forseeable future. And Theemin had a bald head, and a goatee that hung right between 'hipster but attractive' and 'obnoxious'. He dressed like far Outer Rim trash unconcerned with frills, and he talked that way, too. He carried a big blaster rifle, nothing like the two pistols that Atton had carried before the lightsabers came into it.
At-- Theemin's hand skimmed over his head again. Damn it.
He was waiting for a couple of buyers. It'd taken a while to trace down the lines from the big company he knew was a front, down to the actual basic scum that ran things on the operational side, but he'd found the ideal place to start. Maximum anonymity, a clear path up towards the top.
Theemin carried a sniper rifle, too. But he kept that just hidden enough that only the really perceptive trash would be able to notice it. He sighed, leaned up against the side of the hunk of crap of a starship he'd picked up on, and pulled out the disposable comlink he'd bought that morning. Hadn't really wanted to risk this before - both because Mical might find out something was hinky, but also because he hadn't been sure he'd even be able to find an in into this organisation - but now he figured he owed Sparks... something.
STILL ALIVE, he texted.
Anything more, and he'd probably get in trouble if someone intercepted his message.
He heard voices. Footsteps. He slid the comlink back into his pocket and righted himself. "Took you two a long time."
[[ nfb due to distance. ]]
He also needed to stop thinking of himself as Atton; Theemin was going to be the name for the forseeable future. And Theemin had a bald head, and a goatee that hung right between 'hipster but attractive' and 'obnoxious'. He dressed like far Outer Rim trash unconcerned with frills, and he talked that way, too. He carried a big blaster rifle, nothing like the two pistols that Atton had carried before the lightsabers came into it.
At-- Theemin's hand skimmed over his head again. Damn it.
He was waiting for a couple of buyers. It'd taken a while to trace down the lines from the big company he knew was a front, down to the actual basic scum that ran things on the operational side, but he'd found the ideal place to start. Maximum anonymity, a clear path up towards the top.
Theemin carried a sniper rifle, too. But he kept that just hidden enough that only the really perceptive trash would be able to notice it. He sighed, leaned up against the side of the hunk of crap of a starship he'd picked up on, and pulled out the disposable comlink he'd bought that morning. Hadn't really wanted to risk this before - both because Mical might find out something was hinky, but also because he hadn't been sure he'd even be able to find an in into this organisation - but now he figured he owed Sparks... something.
STILL ALIVE, he texted.
Anything more, and he'd probably get in trouble if someone intercepted his message.
He heard voices. Footsteps. He slid the comlink back into his pocket and righted himself. "Took you two a long time."
[[ nfb due to distance. ]]
