Chapter Text
The Lights aboard the Egress seemed especially bright as Buror stepped into the Lounge. He winced, head throbbing as he slumped into the patchy seats that had brought him comfort so many times before. A familiar voice grated his ears as the teenage mandalorian made herself known.
"You know, I wouldn't have to fly this ship if you didn't drown yourself in liquor every other night."
Sontaa stood over him, eyes unseen but undoubtedly narrowed at him. She was a better shot than she was a pilot, but Nash hadn't proved herself enough to be anywhere near his cockpit.
"You ain't crashed yet. you'll be fine."
"That is... not the point."
"Mhh." He grunted, glancing at the kitchenette where a cold pot of caff still sat from the morning prior. He mourned his choice of employment for a moment. They were both decent, for smugglers, but they were no pirates. He'd sworn when he'd taken this ship that he'd make a crew out of whatever stragglers he found, but he couldn't help but wish he'd chosen differently. Or at least taken a bigger ship.
Dragging himself up and staggering to the nearest stash of pain meds, he fumbled with the lock that he didn't remember being there. "Kid, did you-" he looked up, finding that she'd already headed back to the cockpit. He stumbled after her, leaning on the co-pilot's seat where she'd usually sit. "Did you... lock up the meds?" He asked, trying to keep his tone level.
"We don't have the credits to fund your alcohol problem and it's consequences."
She was right. Of course she was. They'd been laying low for a while, and he'd probably spent what they had left on last night.
"So, what yer sayin, is that we need a nice fat job, real soon?" Nash rumbled from the doorway, "Cause, Y'know, we could do that job for th' Pykes. It's good money Buror." She offered, glancing between him and Sontaa, who scoffed, getting to her feet.
"Yeah, good money if we don't die, ARE-YOU-INSANE?!" She snapped, chest heaving.
"Look, i know yer jus' a kid, but need means need. And we need credits. So unless you've got a better idea-"
"Yeah! Literally ANYTHING! Dealing with the Pykes is not something we need! If we mess up, we'll either be in trouble with the Empire or the Pykes, and I cannot in good faith tell you which one would be worse!" The kid stepped closer, probably narrowing her eyes if he had to guess
"Says you, Deathwatch." Nash growled. Her large, pointed ears pinned and she bared her fangs.
The silence that followed Nash's comment made shivers run down his Lekku. He'd only had the kid around for a little while, but he'd come to recognize the slight tremble in her stance that usually came before her hand slipped to her hip holster and found it's way to the blaster within.
"That's enough of that." He huffed shortly, pushing the two of them back slightly. "You're both right. We can't just wait around for some freighter to show wit' valuable cargo, but yeah, I'm not so sure on dealing with them. I've had some run ins wit' them, and they weren't pretty."
The kid slumped back into her chair, deliberately drawing her blaster and spinning it on her finger. "So what do we do then?"
He sighed. "We do the job."
Sontaa's shot up from her seat, armor clanking softly. "Captain!"
"And if you have a problem with my orders, then you can sit this one out." The words came out colder than he'd expected, but from the way Nash smirked and the kid froze, he'd made his point. He felt a little guilty as she stalked out of the cockpit, grumbling about him not being in the right mind. Letting his eyes follow her out, he silently hoped she'd help anyway. Both himself and Nash could hold their own, but people would think twice about picking a fight with a Mandalorian, even an adolescent like Sontaa.
Nash watched her leave as well, smirk flourishing on her wolfish face. "Good choice, Cap." She rumbled as she presumptuously sprawled into the kid's seat beside him.
"I just hope you know what you're getting into. This is gonna be harder without the kid."
Her face drooped. "Ah for kriff's sake, Buror, she ain't that great. We can handle a job without her jus' fine." He knew that, if he had to he could do it alone, but he wasn't sure just how good Nash was yet. After all, they'd only met a few seasons ago.
The series of disgruntled clicks and buzzes that echoed through the ship let Buror know that AR-10 had met Sontaa on her way back to her bunk, and found her foul mood displeasing. The droid, taking the appearance of a busted up astromech, rolled into the cockpit, hissing it's frustrations in Colicoid.
"I know, I know. I'll talk to her about it later." He replied, not bothering to translate for Nash, as the odd language was hard enough to understand with his headache. "Cut her some slack, AR, getting bumped ain't the worst thing that's happened to you. Nash, what are the coordinates for this job?"