"You look remarkably healthy," Daydream remarked, settling at the bar in response to the bothan's sly wink and beckoning gesture. "I heard you had a hunter after you." She eased a small stack of credits to the counter, motioning to the surly bartendered and muttering ar equest.

Drakonis held his mug aloft in a salute to the twi'lek and swallowed a draught. "Contrary to popular belief, my dear, luck ain't a lady tonight. It's a Bothan."

"You got lucky?" She asked flippantly.

"Consider this, if you will," the bothan began. "One of the most dangerous blokes in the galaxy wants me six feet under. He's got no need to send someone to do his dirty work, and he does it anyway."

Daydream tapped a fingertip against her upper lip, affecting a thoughtful expression. In this case, Saevio was obviously the dangerous bloke being referred to, and the dirty work involved was Seth, a bounty hunter, being set upon the glib bothan. "Yes," she mused. "Why do you suppose he would do that, anyway?"

"Stickin' my nose in a place it doesn't belong," Drakonis drawled. "I suppose I had it commin'. Like you said, dearest, I was desperate. And you're just too damn beautiful to stay mad at."

"Nonsense, Drakonis," she retorted, even as she debated returning an 'I Told You So' that Drakonis had lent her a while back -- she had warned the bothan of the price for joining Masquerade's hunt to steal an artifact from Saevio, after all -- just as the bothan had warned her what she was getting into several months ago when she'd tangled with the Inquisitorius. Retrieving a glass of something tinged with a phosphor glow, Daydream continued: "Desperate? Desperate because you thought you'd do the right thing, I'm sure . . . that your noble idealism was worth the meddling, hm?"

Drakonis responded evenly, "Not really, no. You'd think I would have learned the first time around not to trust you. Just like a good girl, you upped and told em' everything."

Daydream had the decency to look vaguely abashed. You dropped the wrong name when you tried to get me to trust you, Drak. You're right. You should have learned that the first time. "It'd be a shame if I threw my loyalty away for nothing, now, wouldn't it," she declared.

Turning to let his emerald gaze fall directly upon her, Drakonis offered a devious smirk. "I'm surprised, though. You never did strike me as the type to be so . . . dependent."

Daydream sipped quickly at her drink to hide a fleeting expression of annoyance. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm not dependent upon anyone -- except myself."

"It means, darlin', he's got you whipped somethin' fierce. Especially if you put up with bein' refered to as his property."

Glaring hotly, the twi'lek held her glass before her lips. She responded slowly, as if trying to explain something to a small child: "He was referring to the artifact you and the other bothan sought."

"How'd you even know that was the situation I was bringin' up?" Drakonis smirked. "Yeah. And he was mighty upset over Masq' workin' his mojo on you. Hate to break it to ya, love. That's how it is -- "

Daydream swallowed a mouthful of the glowing durindfire, her eyes hooded as she considered the bothan's words. Masquerade's "mojo" had involved his attempts to flood the twi'lek with his own "lightside" energy, thus drowning the "corruption" he believed afflicted her, either from her proximity to Saevio or to a holocron in the zabrak's possession. Masquerade's attempts had left her stunned senseless for the better part of a day, and, poisoned with self-doubt and suspicion, Daydream had committed some absolutely appalling errors in personal judgment, but she had eventually revealed most of the details to Saevio, and what she hadn't told him, he'd deduced on his own. Upon learning of the bothans' persistent intentions to steal the holocron for the betterment of the poor, benighted souls of the galaxy, Saevio had set a bounty hunter on Drakonis, and in a display of efficient, vicious martial prowess, liberated one of Masquerade's arms for a souvenier -- an object lesson both in the perils of heresy and of failing to complete one's training.

" -- Believe whatever you want to believe, my dear," Drakonis was saying as Daydream shook herself from her reverie. "You're a smart woman. Nothin' I can say will change 'yer mind. Conjure you'll let circumstance be the guide."

"Speak of the devil, and so he appears," Masquerade Cognito muttered. The devil in question, of course, was Saevio: Tall, charcoal-skinned, crimson-eyed, with a crown of sharpened horns, and wearing an expression of patient curiousity as he looked down on the bothan.

Dawnstar smirked at Saevio, her lekku phrasing her silent belief that for some reason half the galaxy seemed to think it should revolve around the zabrak. Gesturing vaguely at Masquerade, the tall twi'lek explained, "He's obsessed. You have quite the fan following, sir. I salute you --"

Rounding on the zabrak with an annoyed expression, Daydream interrupted, "-- Tell me, Saevio: Do you think I need saving, or something?"

"Hmmm," he mused, making a show of examining the diminutive twi'lek. "Let me see . . . "

Leaning forward, Daydream smiled encouragingly and hissed, "Psst -- the answer is, 'No, Daydream, I don't think you need saving.'"

"Aside from perhaps being saved from the lice this mutt might be carrying," Saevio decided, ". . . No, I don't think so."

Appreciative laughter washed over the nearby patrons, though Masquerade growled again, his fur rippling with anger. Dawnstar, glancing around for something with which to rap Masq on the nose if he got out of line, muttered, "Down, boy. Heel."

"Well said," Daydream smiled up at the zabrak, looking charmed. She paused, the smile fading, her demeanor growing frosty. "However, Drakonis here said that you referred to me as property. I am choosing to believe that he misheard you."

Saevio arched an eyebrow quizzically. "How so?"

Considering his response, Masquerade's mouth settled into a dark grin: "I believe you owe me an apology, Daydream. I was right." He flashed a self-righteous grin at Saevio, who was blinking owlishly at the bothan.

"Like hell, Masq... Mustafar will freeze over before I issue an apology to the likes of you," the short twi'lek muttered.

Drakonis, having swallowed his coughing fit, held up a hand and interjected, "Is this a bad time to say that one of you smells really, really good?" Masquerade took a smug drag from his cigarra, almost managing not to roll his eyes at the scoundrel. " . . . Don't suppose anyone else is hungry?" Drakonis continued.

"Where the hell are all these bothans coming from? Is there a convention here today?" Dawnstar muttered.

"They travel in packs, apparently," Saevio decided, affecting a mysterious expression. "Wild dogs," Dawnstar echoed.

Quiet laughter echoed from across the bar where a pair of twi'lek (one lethan, one tolian) had taken note of the tableau. "Does Saevio have a bothan pet?" the lethan figure asked, pale green eyes flickering over the zabrak. Saevio glanced over the counter at the group of dark-cloaked figures there, catching the eye of a pale-skinned human.

Drakonis sidled closer to Dawnstar, looking admiringly up at her figure. "My dear, you don't know just how wild we can get! Perhaps when all this is said and done . . . "

Growling softly, Masquerade settled his hand at his belt. "Have you ever been to Bothawui, Saevio?"

"Why would I ever want to visit such a filthy planet?" the zabrak countered, still looking across the bar.

"You wouldn't survive one day in the highly political workings of my homeworld," answered Masquerade, "And it's a beautiful planet. Not filthy at all!" He flicked his cigarra at Saevio, sending a speck of ash towards his foot.

Reaching for Daydream's arm, Saevio pulled her away from the bothans, where she settled close to his side. "Is there anything else you needed before taking your leave?" he asked obscurely. "Another cybernetic attachment, perhaps?"

"No, thank you," Masquerade responded, flexing the fingers of his cybernetic hand. He took another drag on his cigarra, blowing a plume of smoke, "Perhaps you need a blaster bolt inserted up your ass?"

Drakonis stared at the older, black-furred bothan. "Uh. . . Masq?" He gestured with his head towards the congregation of ebon-clad figures on the other side of the bar. Frantically. "Masq!"

"You'd think after having your arm forcibly removed, you'd keep your distance, hmm?" Saevio suggested mysteriously. "I suppose common sense isn't an inherent trait in your species."

"Ix-nay on the assbolt-ay, mate!" Drakonis hissed at Masquerade, pointing wildly at the group of black-cloaked figures on the other side of the bar. Masquerade, realizing the crowd on the other side of the bar was comprised of Saevio's associates, and thus that he was outnumbered, bowed mockingly to Saevio, grabbed Drakonis' elbow, and rasped, "Time to roll."

"Not entirely stupid," the zabrak decided, clapping his hands in a show of sarcastic appreciation. "I'm impressed."

"Good day, monsieur," Masquerade muttered, pulling Drakonis towards the back door of the cantina.

"With frequent baths and a collar, it might make a nice pet," Dawnstar mused thoughtfully, pale blue-green eyes fixed on the scene of Drakonis being dragged away by the older bothan. "Assuming it's house trained."

Drakonis inhaled deeply as he was pulled away, and his eye twitched in a sly wink towards Dawnstar. "Yup! It's you! Whatever you've got, love, it wor- ...Hey! Easy, I'm goin'!"