[TOR] Kit's Blaster-Cleaning Manual and Journal

[Mixxi]

Nothing is better at the end of the day than a glass of port, a shadowed cantina booth, and a well-stocked blaster cleaning kit. Well, maybe there's something else, but that's not quite an option right now.

And what a day it has been. You two lovelies—my wicked lady and her loudmouth sister—what did you think of the day? What did you think of dancing with lightsabers instead of blasters and bowcasters? I'd wager you felt about as comfortable as I did dealing death at the sides of Jedi.

Kit gently removed the blaster emitter nozzle and the scattergun dispersal unit and began swabbing carbon buildup from the barrel ends of both weapons. Well, carbon buildup and a bit of tissue. But there wasn't much left of the latter.

But they were the ones who stepped forward with me when the ship came under attack. A strange pair they were; one measured, calm, and very dangerous, and the other burning red hot, ready to take on all the injustice in the galaxy. And what had they thought of me? Did they know I stepped forward just because the trip was dull? Hells, I was ready to pick a fight myself just to make things interesting.

My wicked lady, you're showing your age. I'll need to get you a new crystal. That new gas I'm using burns hot, and I wouldn't want you cracking on me. And a bit more gas for your loudmouth sister—she gobbles it up so fast.

You don't approve of the Jedi, do you? I'm not sure I agree with you.

And that worries me.

[Mixxi]

((~the night following our first Saga get-together at the Dealer's Den~))

The cantina beat like a giant heart beneath her as she settled down into her rented bunk. Hard to believe she had been dancing with troopers and talking with Jedi down there just a few short hours before.

Seeing the troopers unwind had brought back memories, and she felt a pang of regret that she no longer wore the uniform. Some of them still had that belief that they were a power for good, even. The ones who skipped the dancing and went straight to the drinking, though, weren't so starry-eyed. They were grim and determined.

And the Jedi. Damn her if she wasn't actually starting to see some of them as individuals instead of puppets whose scheming, ivory-tower Masters pulled the strings. So different from what she expected. One even wore an old piece of blast armor and talked about wanting to be a soldier.

Still puzzling over the day, she slipped down into the darkness. The dreams were waiting, as always. But tonight, to her surprise, when the bars closed in and the pain started, hands reached out of the darkness and bore her upward into the light.