Post by ShockHelix on Jun 16, 2016 12:20:59 GMT -5
(Apologies on the delay. Either I didn't notice or completely forgot that Zel had already posted, and he reminded me this morning I was up. >.< )
At Swindon's question, Rhithia shook her head no, running a finger through her hair and ruffling it. “Not usually, no. There have been a few times though,” she explained, while moving to retrieve her helmet. “There's always that chance a gang stumbles on our safehouse, or one of underworld freaks find their way here. Cthon, ghouls, hive rats. And I'd rather the CSF find us then a Taozin slink it's way in here.”
At Swindon's embaressment, Rhit waved a hand in dismissal. Living with Blink and Homicide in such a small space, it was likely that she was used to people looking at their worst. While Swindon departed for the main to retrieve her bag, Rhit occupied herself with adjusting her armor, making sure everything was in order after her sleep.
The main room was devoid of most everything the Mandalorian's had brought with them, all of the holodisplay's loaded into their ship, leaving all the tables devoid of adornment. All that remained was a single device sitting on the main table, which was where the news was playing in a projection against the far wall. Near her bag of clothes, the small storage crate with her energy cube sat sealed, the only storage crate left in the room.
By the projector, Blink was leaning on the far end of the table, her helmet under one hand as she watched the reporter displayed on the wall. A bag of snack food sat on the table by Homicide, who currently had a fruit bar of some kind in his hand, snacking on it. It was clear by food, Blink had not meant an actual meal.
Noticing Swindon standing there, Homicide swallowed a bite he had taken, then spoke to her in his usual gruff tone. “I'd have a look at that box of yours. Went to load it on, but it felt.. . Hot. Didn't want to mess with it until you'd looked at it. Thing isn't going to blow up on us is it?”
“That's the plan. Aria's going to meet me there, and dispatch will keep track of me. Standard precautions.”
“There is, but I don't know how long our interview with the senator might take. You may want to check with them after you're done at the Inquirer. Though I doubt they'd be very happy with you, considering how things are going.”
As Buhel announced they had arrived at the Inquirer, Stormrider bid them farewell and the connection ended. The zabrak shook his head as the duros climbed out, following slowly and sighing. “Well, at least we aren't completely in the dark now. Maybe we'll get something out of this trap after all, though I doubt it.”
The hangar was more or less filled with an assortment of speeders, closed and open, and even a few bikes. Typical of a busy establishment in these upper levels, even if it was a place with as terrible a reputation as the Galactic Inquirer. Without the authority of the CSF behind them, they might've had a long walk, but leaving the vehicle settled right next to the front door was typical behavior of emergency speeders.
“Well, guess we better get on with it,” Ralak said, before heading for the front door and stepping through the sliding doorways that parted to grant them entrance. Inside, the news office was clearly full of itself, with framed articles plastered over almost every inch of wall. Directly in front of the doors an overweight Correlian sat staring at a holodisplay, who looked up in surprise at seeing the CSF officers enter.
“I'm Detective Ralak, this is Detective Buhel with the CSF. We need to speak with one. . .” he trailed off for a second, checking information on a smaller display on his wrist link. “. . . Dennis Fothwire. Where can we find him?”
At Swindon's question, Rhithia shook her head no, running a finger through her hair and ruffling it. “Not usually, no. There have been a few times though,” she explained, while moving to retrieve her helmet. “There's always that chance a gang stumbles on our safehouse, or one of underworld freaks find their way here. Cthon, ghouls, hive rats. And I'd rather the CSF find us then a Taozin slink it's way in here.”
At Swindon's embaressment, Rhit waved a hand in dismissal. Living with Blink and Homicide in such a small space, it was likely that she was used to people looking at their worst. While Swindon departed for the main to retrieve her bag, Rhit occupied herself with adjusting her armor, making sure everything was in order after her sleep.
The main room was devoid of most everything the Mandalorian's had brought with them, all of the holodisplay's loaded into their ship, leaving all the tables devoid of adornment. All that remained was a single device sitting on the main table, which was where the news was playing in a projection against the far wall. Near her bag of clothes, the small storage crate with her energy cube sat sealed, the only storage crate left in the room.
By the projector, Blink was leaning on the far end of the table, her helmet under one hand as she watched the reporter displayed on the wall. A bag of snack food sat on the table by Homicide, who currently had a fruit bar of some kind in his hand, snacking on it. It was clear by food, Blink had not meant an actual meal.
Noticing Swindon standing there, Homicide swallowed a bite he had taken, then spoke to her in his usual gruff tone. “I'd have a look at that box of yours. Went to load it on, but it felt.. . Hot. Didn't want to mess with it until you'd looked at it. Thing isn't going to blow up on us is it?”
“That's the plan. Aria's going to meet me there, and dispatch will keep track of me. Standard precautions.”
“There is, but I don't know how long our interview with the senator might take. You may want to check with them after you're done at the Inquirer. Though I doubt they'd be very happy with you, considering how things are going.”
As Buhel announced they had arrived at the Inquirer, Stormrider bid them farewell and the connection ended. The zabrak shook his head as the duros climbed out, following slowly and sighing. “Well, at least we aren't completely in the dark now. Maybe we'll get something out of this trap after all, though I doubt it.”
The hangar was more or less filled with an assortment of speeders, closed and open, and even a few bikes. Typical of a busy establishment in these upper levels, even if it was a place with as terrible a reputation as the Galactic Inquirer. Without the authority of the CSF behind them, they might've had a long walk, but leaving the vehicle settled right next to the front door was typical behavior of emergency speeders.
“Well, guess we better get on with it,” Ralak said, before heading for the front door and stepping through the sliding doorways that parted to grant them entrance. Inside, the news office was clearly full of itself, with framed articles plastered over almost every inch of wall. Directly in front of the doors an overweight Correlian sat staring at a holodisplay, who looked up in surprise at seeing the CSF officers enter.
“I'm Detective Ralak, this is Detective Buhel with the CSF. We need to speak with one. . .” he trailed off for a second, checking information on a smaller display on his wrist link. “. . . Dennis Fothwire. Where can we find him?”
