1996/Paint-Peeler and Podracing

Paint-Peeler and Podracing
Date of Scene:	10 April 2015
Location:	Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse
Synopsis:	An off-duty Juno bets on Tattooine's podraces from the Bar and Grill at the Edge of the Multiverse, joined by at least one unexpected fellow Confederate member.
Cast of Characters:	428, 522

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Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The Bar and Grill is a good place to go when one has no idea what to eat, because the possibilities there are more or less endless. It's not always the cheapest, but it's almost always quality.

At the long counter there's a familiar figure out of uniform. Familiar to some, anyway. Juno Eclipse, in the nondescript, smuggleresque outfit she seems to favour when she's running unaffiliated operations, or otherwise trying to obfuscate her Imperial allegiance – white tunic-like shirt tucked into dark leggings, reinforced leather jacket, hair pulled into a simple ponytail instead of its usual severe French twist.

She's slumped forward, with her chin in her hand, eyes glued to one of the viewscreens. There are several chariot-like vehicles hurtling around tracks at unsafe speeds, and numbers scrolling over the lower part of the screen – odds and statistics, probably.

She also has a bowl of noodles that look decidedly innocuous, with what looks like bits of vegetable and bits of meat mixed in; and a glass of something that looks like it could be used as paint thinner. Or maybe paint remover. Something seriously alcoholic, anyway. The stools around her are empty, and in general she looks pretty content watching the races.

Whatever those things are, anyway.

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
It would seem Juno is not the only one walking around incognito form and like her, it is not easy to spot the Legatus given he is in a very casual outfit, with messy black peppered hair, a slight five o'clock shadow, and holding no weapons on his visible person. Which he would admit in silence, he feels a bit necked without.

He makes his way to the bar, about a seat or two over from where Juno is sitting and then takes a look over the menu, before glancing up at the bartender with his gold eyes, "Bourbon if you would, and bring the bottle with it." The voice was also off from the way Gaius normally spoke, his accent dropped for a more neutral sound and kept rather mellow.

Though as the older gentleman sat there, he had still good physical structure, like one would expect to see with a military man or someone very active. His face did have few lines, but not many enough to indicate he was heading into his late fifties. His gold eyes peered over to Juno's screen at the game she was watching, as he then peered back at his menu. "If you don't mind me asking... who is winning so far?" He asks trying to break into a mild conversation with her, though not knowing who the woman was.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
The pilot scoops up a forkful of noodles with just enough care to suggest she isn't actually paying attention to that, eyes still glued to the viewscreen. Every so often her gaze flicks to another screen, showing either a different race, or maybe a different list of participants.

Half a glance is cast back to the scruffy-looking fellow ordering a bourbon and a bottle; he's a nobody as far as she's concerned; certainly nobody she's ever seen before. Another bar stranger. Most days, Juno's amicable enough towards those, so long as they mind their own business.

"That one." A big, bulky-looking podracer with vertical green turbine engines goes whizzing past the others, overtaking the pack on a straightaway just after a turn. The pilot's almost invisible; the cockpit module itself, strapped between the two big engines, is no more than a blur. Screen readouts suggest the thing is travelling in excess of six hundred kilometers per hour. Even without understanding the text, though, it's obvious the things are hurtling along the track at absolutely mind-boggling speeds. "Gasgano. He's one of the track favourites in the Boonta Eve Classic, although Sebulba's not going to like the fact that he just got ahead of the pack. I expect things are going to get... messy, in a few moments."

Juno's voice immediately gives her away – her clipped, precise speech, accented faintly in a manner that traces her ancestry to the planet of Corulag; a world firmly in the grip of the Galactic Empire. A voice familiar to Confederate communications, although most people haven't seen her as she is now. Even off-duty, her voice is precise and clear.

"I don't think Gasgano's going to care, at least until Sebulba manages to get under his skin, or whatever it is a Dug does to get a Xexto angry." She shovels in another forkful of noodles. They must be absurdly hot, because her eyes are watering and her face is quite red, in a way that suggests it isn't just the paint-peeler drink. "Ahahah. Oh, this is going to be interesting." Half a glance is cast back to the golden-eyed stranger. "Fan of podracing, are you?"

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The gold eyed stranger picks up the glass of bourbon once its poured and takes a sip from it. His eyes watching the podrace as Juno explains who is winning, who was not going to be happy, and those gold eyes of the man? They seem enthralled by the whole event.

There is a moment of surprise though when it clicks in his head that he was speaking with Juno Eclipse. He was speaking with the proper dressed woman, always working, always busy, and yet – here she was... casual as casual could be, possibly making bets, and actually relaxing. Something he is told to do more of by his own adopted daughter.

Gaius looks to her as his face just as swiftly sets back to a more casual demeanor, trying to shove away the realization of who he speaks too and the mild bit of surprise and how different she can be. He could tell her, but that would probably ruin this fine moment between the two of them and he rather not ruin it. "I have actually not seen a podrace before, haha, never even heard of one till now, but its... amazing to watch." He says in all earnest.

"It must be even amazing to pilot one of those, if not slightly dangerous." There is a boyish smirk about then. "Though what is the fun without a little danger in life, right?" It is about here that Gaius look away from her for a moment before he at last settles down on his order. "I'll take the fried seafood platter if you could with the steak. Medium rare if you could and some seasoned fries."

Once he says the order he looks back to Juno and at the race itself. "Hopefully the one you bet on is the one who is winning." then a long pause with a sheepish grin, "Unless you're not the betting type?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Heh, heh." Juno grins as she watches podracers scream past the camera on one of the screens; Gasgano's green monstrosity, with an even bigger orange podracer hot on its heels. A long-snouted alien can be seen, very briefly, in the orange podracer's cockpit. "I wonder which one of them's going to try to kill the other first. If I know these two, Sebulba's going to try to run Gasgano into a cliff, Gasgano's going to get properly angry, and then they're both going to try and run each other into a cliff; only it's not going to work."

The pilot rubs her hands together in obvious relish, watching the screens. "They're both too experienced as pilots to fall for any tricks like that. Sebulba cheats, and Gasgano expects Sebulba to cheat."

"Six hundred kilometers on the hour, and that's if you're slow," she adds, waving the glass a bit as she picks it up for a drink. Apparently the burn of the alcohol doesn't bother her that much, or she's more used to it than she lets on. "I've seen some of the more fine-tuned machines exceed eight hundred fifty. Of course, the pilots don't usually last that long at speeds like that. Somebody tries to run somebody else off the road, and the next thing you know there's a ten-kilometer swath of podracer parts. And pilot parts. If there's enough left of the pilot to find," she adds, with a somewhat fatalistic-looking shrug.

"Amazing, maybe. But I'm not insane enough to strap myself into the cockpit of one of those. There's only one human who's ever managed to podrace, let alone podrace and win, and although I don't know who he or she was, I'm sure they had some kind of Force-cheatery to help them out." She waggles her fingers at 'Force-cheatery.'

Bet on the races? "I bet on both of them. Sebulba's the track favourite, but Gasgano has the superior machine. And I'd almost wager that Gasgano's the superior pilot, too. Sebulba cheats. Everyone knows that. And by 'cheat' we mean 'don't piss him off, or they'll be scraping what's left of you off the track with a teaspoon.'"

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius observes the race as Juno explains who they are and explains their methods. Including that she has done the smart betting as well. He takes another sip of his drink as he raises both brows in a 'color me impressed' by the speeds she brings up, including only one human has ever raced to maybe live to race another day – at least some time ago, right? "Well, it is an impressive sport and they are impressive for keeping them under control at that speed."

"I wonder how they work..." he says with a boyish grin on his face. "To take one apart and look at all the parts inside, that have to be some crazy mechanics going on in there to put up with the servo stress and heavy piston... seven hells... if they even work with pistons."

He chuckles a bit as he thanks the waitress when he brings him the food, speaking idly before he takes a bite out of a fry, "...Though I doubt those even work with pistons, probably to much of an old fashion tech for such speeding machines."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Nope. Not at all. A piston system would blow itself apart ten seconds into the race." Juno waves her glass of paint-peeler for emphasis. "Nobody's ever piloted a piston-based podracer. They're repulsorcraft, but they're either turbines or rockets. There's proponents of both methods, but I personally think the turbines make for greater sustained speeds; the rockets are better for acceleration."

She squints at the screens, and for a moment it's clear that she's calculating; running numbers purely in her head as she watches the racers' progress, eyes flicking from one display to the other and back again. It seems that for all of her professionality and cool demeanour, she has a cunning streak, too; and a head for numbers more than she lets on – but she's already proven herself as a capable pilot.

Everybody's got to have a hobby, right?

Those blue eyes flick sideways, then, regarding the scruffy man for a moment, almost shrewdly. Something about him seems strangely familiar, but she just can't put her finger on it. What is it?

"I've done work on them before, actually." Juno shrugs off-handedly. "They're about as simple as they look. Strap two turbines or rockets to a control cockpit via Steelton cables, slap an energy binder between the two turbines to stabilise them, and off you go. Seven hundred kilometers per hour. Try not to die." She grins again, unguarded. This is her off-duty time, and she's obviously relishing it. "There's a reason why it's an alien sport, because aliens can handle that reaction time better than we can."

"Gasgano is a Xexto. They've got twenty-four fingers," she explains, waggling her fingers illustratively. "Sebulba's a Dug. They're tough, smart, cunning, and Sebulba's a nasty customer. He cheats as much as he races, but that's a pretty well-known open secret, and anyway, what do you expect from a sport that's more or less owned by the Hutt cartel? I'm surprised it's played as straight as it is, most times. I suppose because things go fast, and there are usually explosions."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
"Twenty four fingers," Gaius replies with a chuckle, with a crude smirk on his face. "Must be interesting time with the ladies." Yeah he went there and didn't seem to care either as he decided to go focus on his actual meal before the steak gets cold or the seafood.

Juno may notice that while he eats, he does so with proper manners and he actually doesn't swap fork with the knife. The knife stays in the right hand and the fork in the left, unless he isn't work with the steak and picks up something else with the fork, then it goes back to the right. Though while he eats, he does glance at the screens time to time, including taking in the fact that apparently this Dug critter really loves to cheat. Given how many times she has expressed this single fact.

"You know, that is perhaps the other reason that is a favored sport, not only the speed, because who doesn't love speed, but the destruction." The man holds up his fork slightly, "People love destruction, even when they try to pretend they don't." He then jabs the fork into the piece of cut steak and plops that into his mouth.

Once he finishes that piece, he looks back to the screen, then to her. "To bad such a sport couldn't be curved for human racing and to build one of those... I'm not sure I'd have the engineering gift to actually do it, but I know some people who would love to give it a shot. Just to see what kind of results they would get." He smirks after that, "...but hopefully not willing to risk their lives after to test it out themselves... though," He thinks on this a bit, "They may be."

He goes back to cutting up the last of his steak. "You also seem like you have a pretty good head for this whole Podracing sport, a keen eye even. I bet if you could handle those speeds, you make one seven hells of a pilot."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Four arms. And Xexto have heads on a swivel, more or less. Excellent eyesight, I'm told, which is a necessity on the track, and quick reaction times." Juno gestures toward the screen, where a purple podracer grazes a wall and goes tumbling in a fiery line; when it finally impacts with a large boulder, it explodes in a brilliant fireball. "Otherwise, that happens."

A groan rises from a few tables over. Sucks to be betting on that racer, apparently. No winnings for that guy.

Although she seems reasonably at ease, she does happen to be watching the man from the corner of her eye; he's a stranger, he's in what she would consider her personal space, and in spite of her amicability, it's in her nature to stay somewhat paranoid. Maybe it's that old hunter's anxiety from her TIE pilot days, or maybe it's conditioned paranoia from piloting the Rogue Shadow – but her instincts usually pay off, and when they tell her to watch someone, she watches them.

"Actually, that's exactly why it's a Hutt favourite. Podracing has it all: Death, destruction, explosions, money." Juno makes a grand, sweeping gesture with one arm, and although she holds her drink, which looks and smells like cheap Corellian whisky, she doesn't spill a drop. Her own reflexes aren't too shabby, even partially intoxicated. "That kind of thing sells, and if there's one thing the Hutts are good at, it's knowing what sells... and owning the market."

Not that she cares. She bets on it as much as anybody else. Let them play their crooked games; the Empire hasn't yet outlawed it, although it's subtly disdained within Imperial territory. That probably explains why it thrives on Outer Rim worlds like Tattooine and Malastare.

The pilot's blue eyes, meanwhile, haven't left either of those screens, alternating between them – she's using her peripheral vision to watch the stranger. Piloting tricks, perhaps, or maybe it's just simple common sense.

"I suppose theoretically you could tune down the engine units, and scale down the output of a turbine setup. Throttle the output at the binder, and install a governing system in the cockpit, run it through the Steelton cables... honestly, it'd be more trouble than it'd be worth. A watered-down podracer would never catch on. The Hutts already have a stranglehold on the circuits. A subpar craft like that would be laughed all the way out of the Boonta Eve Classic and back to the Pouffra Circuit."

She takes a forkful of noodles without even looking away from the screen, apparently ignoring the absurd heat of them, although her face is turning red and her eyes are beginning to water. She blinks them clear to keep watching the screens. "Eh. I've done work on them, but I'd never fly them. Humans just don't have the reaction times necessary. There's a reason why there's only been one to race, let alone win."

"Besides..." She regards the stranger, and her smile is slow and thin. "I never said I was a pilot. Betting's one thing. Flying's another one entirely."

Setting aside her food and drink, she leans back slightly, folding her arms over her chest, and regarding the stranger with a smile that's gone downright wintry, blade-thin and eyes hard. "Who are you?"

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius listens to Juno as she explains how it could be done, even as he eats the shrimp and pours himself another glass, before taking a sip from it. He takes all that information in and does wonder if another nation was to sanction it out in the Multiverse... would it gain popularity in a new wave of followers? Has it ever been tried?

From the way Juno makes it sound, no one has been crazy enough or even given it thought, and yet here he is. Thinking about it, debating on it. Must be the Bourbon or the fact being fifty five now is starting to screw with his head, but what else does he have to lose?

When Juno brings up she was never a pilot, the man can not help but grin and when she turns to ask him who he is, that grin only become a rugged smile, before he takes the drink, raises up his brows as he says, "Wouldn't you love to know." With a playful sound in his voice and sip of the drink. Gaius was playing coy and he was pretty sure Juno wasn't going to take kind to it.

"As for that racing for humans on watered down versions... what if someone did do it? Say... did it for the Multiverse and not for such planets as these. Opened it to Multiversal racing for Elites and allowed them to pilot these... slower models. It could be a new class of race." Gaius says holding his drink to the side. "New class of race to a much wider market of perhaps those who never got a chance to even see a podrace before."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I'm not sure I like the things you're suggesting." Juno's smile is perfectly sweet, but the expression doesn't reach her eyes. Something in that clear, summer-sky blue has gone from amicable to cold and calculating like the flip of a switch, and she may or may not be calculating how to kill him with a toothpick. Or maybe she's just weighing her options, and whether or not it would behoove her to make a clean getaway.

Eventually, she waves a hand, dismissively. "Obviously you have a case of mistaken identity, and must be thinking of somebody else."

In spite of her casual nature, though, there's still something cold and calculating in her eyes. Whatever sort of amicable trust among drunkards he might have garnered, it's all gone – she's not as drunk or relaxed as she might seem.

"You've got a lot to learn about the Hutts, if you're suggesting taking their favourite sport out from under their noses. Or maybe you've got a lot of nerve; I'm not sure. If anybody's going to jump on that, it's going to be the Hutts, and no one else." Juno tips back another drink, seemingly unconcerned. "They're pretty protective of what they consider their financial property, and they consider podracing their financial property in everything but name."

"Maybe you're just crazy." She rolls one shoulder in a shrug. "Any human would have to be, to consider strapping into one of those death-trap repulsorcraft. Generally these things are broadcast multiversally, as you can see right here," Juno adds, thumbing over her shoulder toward the screen. "It's pretty simple. The Hutts don't want anyone horning in on their profits."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Juno calls him crazy, explains the Hutt's view and that anyone who dares to step on it to be just as insane. It was perhaps an understandable piece of information, not that Gaius really fully understood the actual reason he should be scared of crossing their paths or – maybe he didn't care, but he was also not going to press the issue.

Juno did know her world best and while the Legatus had a strong dislike for cartels and corporations, he also knew many worlds operated on them. Seem so few actually ran on a meritocracy like his own Empire....

The man however fell silent as Juno shot holes through the whole ordeal and seem content to finish his meal in at last blissful silence, but when he did speak up, he was finishing off the second glass. His own alcohol tolerance staying true to par with his many years of drinking. "I do not know your Hutts and I am still learning about many worlds, just a shame really that such a thing can not be enjoyed by a wider spread of people who could be sponsored. Oh well, I guess."

The man then shrugs his shoulders, "But I am a simpleton sometimes when it comes to corporate worlds and money games. To many years of military, I suppose. Where money does not mean much, but your brother in arms means so much more."

"Thank you for the insight though into your own and a bit about yourself. I don't think I would have been able to honestly come to see the woman you actually are another way." The man then closes up the bottle, before he goes to stand up. "I hope one of your racers wins and I hope you hit the big pot."

Gaius then turns away, before he looks back to her. "You are quite the amazing woman and very talented. Bright future ahead of you and I do believe that without a doubt." He then smirks, "As for the real answer to who I am, well," his voice takes on a more of his normal tone, "Just a commander who was told about this mystical place by a lovely friend who, unlike himself, actually knows how to relax."

He then gives Juno a mild salute with two fingers to his forehead, before he goes to make his way out.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno seems content to finish her hotter-than-hot noodles in silence, somehow managing to split her attention three different ways, following at least two viewscreens and watching the stranger as well. Her ability to follow all three things without any evident loss might be impressive, to some. It might just be part of her job reflexes, to others.

Any pilot can guide a garbage scow through Raxus Prime's magnetic field lanes. It takes a true ace to handle a machine like the Rogue Shadow, or even to survive in the cockpit of a TIE fighter as she had – that's where she came from, and the ability to pilot a starfighter that fickle and flimsy as well as she does is a talent. Her reflexes are top-notch for an ordinary human. The next best thing would be a pilot that has Force-sensitivity.

But this man shouldn't know any of that.

She plucks a toothpick from a nearby jar, worrying at a piece of something between her teeth and considering the scruffy stranger more thoughtfully. Obviously, it's somebody that knows of her, or thinks he knows of her. Is he someone from the Imperial rank and file? No, she would have remembered eyes like that. They almost resemble Galen's in certain lights, though there isn't quite as much gold in his; just that warm chocolate colour she finds so—

Back on task, Eclipse, she scolds herself silently, cocking a blue eye toward Gaius and pondering his identity. Right, then. Where has he seen her before? And why does he seem a bit familiar to her? Clearly, then, this is somebody that she's seen or happened across, as well. A dockmaster on Malastare? Tattooine? Someone who knows she's been scavenging parts for a podracer, or laying hands on rare articles for the Rogue Shadow's systems? Some kind of Imperial quartermaster, then...?

Frowning, Juno rolls the toothpick to one side of her mouth, absently chewing on the end of it, narrowing her eyes.

On the screens, Sebulba wrecks another contestant, shoving the other craft into a boulder and shaking his fist as his unmistakable orange podracer screams past; the Dug is probably screaming insults, too, by the look of it. Thankfully they're neither translated nor audible.

Juno's atteniton is ripped away by the veiled compliments. Their indirectness is a puzzling thing, because obviously this is someone who speaks as though he knows her... oh, he's saluting and turning to go. That won't do.

"Leaving already? Ho—old on just a minute, there. I don't think so." Deftly, Juno stretches a leg out, hooks an ankle around Gaius', and attempts to trip the older man with a swift jerk of her own leg before he can get too far away. "I'm not finished wiht you just yet. Have a seat." Hopefully that's exactly how he'll catch himself, by spinning into a nearby chair.

"Sit down," she instructs, pointing at the nearby chair, lower than the stool but conveniently close – if he doesn't outright land in one, anyway. If he did, then it's a good opportunity to order him to stay. There is, in fact, just a hint of steel in the spoken command. "I'm not through with you. Who are you? How do you know me? Or how do you think you know me? You've been affable enough, but I don't take too kindly to people playing guessing games with me like that."

She smiles, affably enough, though the expression never reaches her eyes. "Now, either you're going to tell me, nicely, or I'm going to go crawling through every database I can get my hands on, which you're undoubtedly in, somewhere, somehow, and then I'm going to find very unpleasant ways to use that information. What's it going to be, then? Are we going to make introductions the nice way, or are we going to do it the hard way?"

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Perhaps some part of Gaius wanted this cat and mouse game to continue, it has been a long time since he could flex some old talents usefully and even longer since he has actually wanted too. He had a great deal of respect for Juno and her record was amazing. In some ways, he envied the fact the the Imperial forces had her and she was not Garlean born, but this was the way of things.

When she said 'Hold on a minute' and attempted to trip him, it was only partly successful. Her reflexes were fast, as to be expected for a woman of her caliber, but the Legatus was equally as quick on the reaction given his long experience in combat.

As the hook came and a stumble should have happened, the Garlean was quick to catch himself, turning himself about and catching a nearby chair, before going to sit down in it, even if a bit roughly. His hands extending up, as if to say, 'I surrender' even though a smile was on his lips as his rugged wild bangs hanged ever lower on his face. Juno's eyes were swift enough she may even caught a glimpse of something white on his forehead, like a oval gem of some kind, but it was hard to say.

He kept his hands visible to be seen and as she went through her paces, including threatening him, he could only chuckle a bit. "I will not lie that I am not enjoying this a bit, but I have not said your name, as something tells me in a public place you don't want that said out loud and I – really don't want mine to be said either."

Gaius then goes to lower his hands down, his tone becoming more and more like his normal voice she may hear on the comm, easing back into that Garlean accent though without his helm, its missing the reverb. "You came here to relax, I came here out of curiosity, by happen chance we came at the same time and managed to sit at the same bar. I have a great deal of respect for you and what you do."

"And I highly doubt such measures will need to be taken around comrades in arms." He looks up at her with those gold eyes of his. "If my voices has not trigger a clue to whom I am and these words are not, the best I will say here is I am also known as the Black Wolf among my own people." Gaius can only hope that calms the woman and while he did want to keep this up, he had that deeper and deeper feeling it would create more of a unnecessary scene, more so then it already has.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Although the woman does allow herself a smirk of amusement as her gambit succeeds, it's still obvious that she doesn't trust this amicable stranger. Her eyes are now fully on the man, either ignoring the viewscreens, or only paying attention to them in the periphery. The intensity of her regard is not unlike a falcon's.

"You've all but implied it." Juno smiles. The expression isn't very nice. It is, she imagines, rather like the sort of expression Galen might show when he's closing in on a target. "Or you've a good idea, else you wouldn't have implied half the things you have." she presses, reaching for her glass and taking a drink. The movement seems somehow annoyed; the glass is set back down with a bang of glass on wood. Juno laces her fingers, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously. "So."

Wait a minute. That voice sounds awfully familiar, and it takes only a few seconds of imagination to supply the helmet-based reverb she's so accustomed to—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

The colour drains from Juno's face, and she manages an inarticulate, squeaky little sound of pure horror. Maybe she's not necessarily as uptight as that lizard lady he keeps around in his employ, but she still has a healthy respect for authority; something of a survival skill when one's boss is effectively Darth Vader.

"Le—" She doesn't finish the title, because neither of them care for a public spectacle, and she can appreciate the desire for secrecy.

Her own reasons are purely tactical; she's been careful to present a professional front when it comes to the Inquisitor she works with, but her reasonings aren't just professionality. There are a lot of people who would use her against him, or vice-versa. Nobody knows how much one could have the other dancing to a string, and they both intend to keep it that way. Never mind that anybody relatively high in the Imperial rank and file attracts negative sorts of attention. Who wants to be a stormtrooper, anyway? And promotion by the sudden and violent end of your superior is a perfectly acceptable way to gain rank within the Empire. Such things happen in war, and tend to attract very little in the way of question.

And she doesn't want to think of what might become of Galen if anything happened to her. The trail of death and violence he'd leave in his wake would be truly astounding.

Coughing nad shaking her head, she still looks a little pale, blinking somewhat owlishly as she regards Gaius, clearly spooked. The Black Wolf reference doesn't mean much to her, but that's because she's already figured out who he is – and it's not necessarily a title she's heard in conjunction with him, either.

"Oh, dear," she finally says, very softly, finishing off her whisky and swallowing harshly. She raises a hand to the bartender to fill it again. She's going to need another one, after that.

Clearing her throat in an extremely awkward manner, she glances aside to Gaius, frowning thoughtfully.

"Actually, I think this is the first time I've ever seen you without that helmet or armour." Honestly, the resemblance to Darth Vader was kind of creepy, and part of her is relieved that the thing is in fact a separate unit from Gaius' noggin'. "I was beginning to wonder if it even came off."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
When she continues to press, those gold eyes never leave hers. The Falcon was staring at another predator, but the other predator didn't want to harm nor wanted to bare his fangs. He had no reason too, not here and hopefully never, besides – he brought this on himself. He knew he was perhaps pushing it, bring thing on himself and he would be foolish to think otherwise. It was never like him anyways to throw blame on someone or anything else when he was at fault.

Even as Juno pushed, Gaius didn't flinch and when she realized it and her face started to go pale, he could only smile softly. He wanted to say 'easy there', but there was no reason too, and she would be fine. It when he notices the fear has settled in, does her just stand up only enough to spin the chair around at which case he casually sits in it where the back of the chair is to his front and his arms resting crossed across the top of the back. "You are fine, don't worry." He says with a reassuring smile, his voice slowly sliding back to a neutral accent.

"You are quite the spitfire when you think someone dangerous may be on your heels. Impressive display and pretty heavy threats to go along with it." Gaius admits holding the bourbon bottle in his fingers that he amazingly didn't lose. "And yes... I don't come out of my armor often and right now, I feel a bit necked because I don't even have a proper weapon on me."%rHe amuses with a grin on his face, "So while a few Confederates have seen it, I like to keep my identity unknown to avoid, oh... assassination attempts, unwanted publicity and the freedom to easily roam around the Multiverse without a giant target on my back." This is when Gaius shrugs softly, "I think we can both understand that one, hmm? Besides, If you knew what I looked like, I would never had the honor to see you as a spitfire, see who you are, and you would continued the... well... you know."

"So amuse me, my lady, and please don't treat me as if I am some high superior officer or some nobleman. You are here to relax and you have no reason to keep such a sharp edge around me." The Legatus says with a smile, his eyes look over to her screen, "...also something big happened in that race I believe, you may want to check on your bet."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Maybe the falcon might be pressing the advantage, but she's also mantling her feathers pretty hard. Every small to moderately-size predator in the galaxy follows this same basic principle: When faced with something that can eat you, make yourself look ten times bigger and meaner than you actually are.

Of course, her threats aren't really hollow. She might not find much on this particular man, but if it were anyone else, she could probably slice into a few databases here and there and find all sorts of creative ways to make their lives into a special kind of hell.

Juno isn't really a vindictive person... but she can be, with the right motivation. Before he'd given himself away, she'd meant every word of her threat. It's not quite as visceral as carving someone apart with a lightsaber, but then again, she likes to think she has some subtlety when held up against Galen's blunt methodology.

She blinks somewhat owlishly when Gaius casually reverses his chair, plopping back down into it nonchalantly. Like so many others, she isn't used to seeing that kind of nonchalance in him. It would be like seeing Darth Vader peel his mask off, kick his feet up, and start sipping a girly drink with a little umbrella in it. Actually, no, that's creepy and unnerving. This is much easier to swallow.

"Ahem." Juno clears her throat, a little awkwardly, at the compliment. "I, uh, well. You learn to hold your own. Actually, it's not common for women to perform well in any of the Imperial military branches. We're consistently passed over for promotions, and chronically underpaid. If you stick out, it's because you perform your work above and beyond expectations. And if you happen to attract the attention of Lord Vader, personally, erm, well." Juno laughs, a little nervously. "You damned sure make certain you don't blemish your record."

She shrugs, seemingly casual, but there's still some measure of distrust in her eyes. "Actually, I do, but that's neither here nor there." Her smile is somewhere between apologetic and guarded. A hint, perhaps, that there's something beneath the pilot's surface impression of such a model officer? She doesn't clarify, though, and even that seems as though she's said too much.

"Heh. Fly with me on a combat operation, and you'll see spitfire. I came up as a TIE fighter, not some milquetoast garbage scow pilot. Most of the time I can hide well enough not to need those skils, but oh, yes, I've still got them." Juno grins a challenging little grin. "I'd be dead if I didn't."

Something big—?

Head whipping around to one of the viewscreens, Juno squints a moment at the scroll of numbers in Basic, then watces the racers. They're still at it, and although the announcer confirms that they're in their final lap, it must be a long and grueling course for them to have been flying this long.

"Oh, look at that," she comments off-handedly, with another sip of whisky. "Gasgano's still alive. Moderately surprising. Sebulba's still in the running, too. Not at all surprising. I think they've narrowed the competition by another two or three racers. Also not surprising," she proclaims, eyeing the viewscreens and shuddering. "I'm so glad I don't have the physiology to do that."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius listens to what she has to say and keeps himself pretty casual while here, at least that way when he goes back he can explain to Livia and perhaps to another 'Oh yea, I relaxed, really. I was actually being relaxing', though in truth some part of him was still watching over his own behavior. Even if the armor was off and he didn't have to be the Legatus, years upon years of training beaten, whipped, and slammed into you just didn't go away. Could be pushed down and shoved back, but some part of it will always bubble to the surface.

"Mmm. In the society I come from we don't see a difference in male or female. Gender means little to our culture, race though..." He frowns a little as he goes to actually open the bottle. "...that is a work in progress." He then actually takes a sip from the bottle cause why the hell not, though he will need to be mindful now just how many sips he takes to glass ratio.

Though he tilts his head to the side as she says 'I do' to his 'don't need too'. "No... No you don't. You wouldn't have known who I was and you would have continued to act casual." He takes another sip of the bottle. "You are not dressed the part right now, neither am I, we are both just two people right now, watching an insane alien race with a high betting pool, ran by a cartel, and waiting to see who actually wins this thing."

"While I have no room to bet on this, I will make a bet with you," He points his index finger at Gasgano, "I bet you he will win, pissing the other guy off. If I am right, well, nothing for me really... but if you win... I'll put my salary on a tab here and you can buy all the drinks you want off it."

"Also love to hear more about this Lord Vader someday." He holds up an index finger, "Someday, not tonight."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Gender and race both matter. Most of the Imperial ranks are human, and male." Juno shrugs, absently toying with her empty shotglass. "Good breeding is also considered a plus, although that's less of an issue than gender and race. There are aliens serving, and alien females. It's even possible for them to climb the ranks. It's just not common or as prevalent as seeing human males in Imperial uniform."

She glances back over her shoulder to regard the viewscreens for a moment before swivelling her attention back to Gaius. "Maybe. And maybe I would've continued threatening you. I don't take kindly to having my identity needled at from anyone, let alone strangers." Again, she glances over her shoulder, but this time it's to confirm that there isn't anybody listening in. Once she satisfies her own suspicions, Juno smiles thinly. "I do my work and I keep my head down, but I don't have any illusions about my own reputation."

"I myself don't really merit much attention. Inquisitors always have enemies, though, and I'm associated closely enough with the Inquisition at this point to merit attention from those enemies." She shrugs, setting her glass straight, slowly and deliberately turning a circle with it. "I'm outside the usual rank structure, these days; Inquisitors are something of a very grey area. That always attracts the wrong kind of attention."

At the mention of insane alien races, her attention strays back to one of the viewscreens, squinting slightly as she calculates what they're up to. By the look of it, both Gasgano and Sebulba are still in the running, although the latter appears to have made a mess out of about half their competitors. The rankings are reading about twelve racers, total, down from two dozen. Juno whistles, low. "He must be in a foul mood today. Crashed twelve of them already, did he? I'd chalk a few of those up to incompetence, though. It always happens in the Boonta Eve Classic course. Today's just a run for the bookies, but you should see the track on an actual Boonta Eve race. It's like riot grounds. Aliens and noise and money everywhere. Sometimes blood, too."

Aliens and humans alike are very passionate about their racing and betting. And Hutts are very passionate about making sure certain racers win, too.

"Sebulba? He usually wins. Sucker bet," she pronounces, dropping her chin into a hand, elbow resting against the wooden counter. "I'm pretty sure half his bloody races are fixed by the Hutts, or fixed by himself. Now, if you're talking about Gasgano... you're on, I suppose. He's popular, but he's not exactly the track favourite. And Sebulba never plays fair." She smiles, languidly, blue eyes half-closed. "Well, all right, then. Sure. If you want to waste your money then I won't stop you. You're on, Le—Black Wolf."

On the matter of Vader, the smile fades away as though it had never been. She simply eyes him for a moment, wary expression speaking volumes. "Mmn. There's not much to say about Lord Vader, honestly. No one really knows him, and even though I've personally attracted his attention a time or two in the past, it's not something anyone would want to do consciously." It's like being under the focus of a laser. Or maybe a lightsaber. "You'll probably get more information out of whatever official information's been released to our allies as a whole, or whatever you can access through Imperial databases with Confederate security clearance."

She even goes so far as to shift uncomfortably on her stool. Although she's good at hiding the extent of it, Vader really freaks her out. As well he should. She has perfectly healthy self-preservation instincts.

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius takes notice of Juno's behavior about this Vader and decides mentally it is best to not bring it up again, as he takes another sip from the bottle. Those gold eyes fixed on the screens for the moment as he goes over what she has explained including that the 'favorite' is apparently pissed. It means a likely bad call on his end on who may or may not win. Oh well, that was the fun of betting, wasn't it?

"Well, I suppose we shall see who is the victor and who blows up first then, hm?" He says with a grin. He wont admit it, but she'll probably win the bet. He is – actually pretty sure of it, but at the same time one has to ask how much does a Legatus actually make and would it really hurt him to bet it off like that? Given he has been in the service of the Empire since he could actually join...

While he watches the matches, he takes another sip from the bottle before he asks her, "Speaking of the Hutts. I remember one of them giving Garen trouble... is these the same Hutts as yours or are these a different kind of Hutts?" Shows Gaius really doesn't know much about this world or the other, but he does sound actually interested, curious even. "Though it seems trying to face off with them is a foolish endeavor and perhaps suicidal going over all you have said thus far."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Cocking a blue eye toward the viewscreens, Juno watches the readouts as different pilots jockery for position amongst themselves, rearranging themselves through the pack. At the end of the day, there's only so much they can do. Only the first four to finish actually win anything, by the look of it, and the top two are more or less immutable. Nobody's going to horn in on the territory held by the top two contenders. One of them's too vicious, and one of them's too skilled; ultimately, this seems to have become a contest to see whether skill or ferocity wins out.

The racers scream past a gorge, and another one of them literally bites the dust, hitting a piece of rock and spinning out of control. It goes up in a bright bloom of fire, leaving a scorched mark and twisted wreckage behind. The first two are locked in a battle of wills, close enough that there's no questioning the race is going to go to one or the other, skirmishing occasionally when their repulsorcraft get close enough. It looks like the gangly Xexto is slowly losing his patience, though; his piloting seems to become more and more aggressive, as though annoyed at Sebulba's persistence. The Dug, on the other hand, is not acustomed to losing; especially on what he considers his turf.

Juno takes a sip of her whisky, staring up at the viewscreens as though entranced. She doesn't bother responding to his comment on betting; there's not much to say but to confirm it. There's nothing they can do but wait and see. It's an obvious statement.

"Probably different," she offers, reluctantly tearing her eyes away and looking back to Gaius. One hand gestures, loosely, as she explains. "He's from another world, and another Empire. The closest thing we have to his kind of division is the Inquisition. I can't match him to anybody in the Imperial databases, and anyway, it's unusual for the Empire to make use of alien talent. Senior Captain Navarr is the only exception I can think of, off-hand, that I know of personally. It's far more common to see humans in its ranks."

To the rest, she waves a hand, careless. "Eh. I don't know about suicidal, although it probably is if you push it far enough. I can't say whether or not they're Elites, although their knowledge in all things economic and illegal is pretty astounding. Still, it becomes an issue of numbers."

"The Hutt cartel is a loose criminal organisation with bases on more planets than I can rightly count. They're in just about every corner of the galaxy, although they have a marked preference for the Outer Rim, well away from Imperial policing and law enforcement." She gestures, loosely. "As for what a Hutt is, take the biggest slug you can imagine. Now add hands to it, and eyes the size of dinner plates, and more servants and underlings than you can shake a stick at. They might not be much to look at, but they know how to survive and profit off the avarice of everyone around them. Not to mention their own."

"Someone like you, you probably wouldn't be seriously threatened by them. But they'd fight a war of attrition, and they'd make it long, slow, painful, and miserable for you, all the same, because they know how economies work on a galactic scale." She gestures nebulously with one hand, flicking it in what almost seems the equivalent of a shrug. "In short, they'd just find creative ways to make your life miserable in small, but numerous, and highly annoying, ways."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius watches the screen, including as another podracer bites the dust it seems. He furrows his brows a bit, before a soft tsk escapes his lips. He actually seems to be getting into it a little, though his attention return to Juno as she explains things with Garen, then about the Hutts.

His brows raise at the explanation regarding the Hutts and what they look like, before his brows furrowed a bit. He takes another sip from the bottle and at last places the cap back on, seeming to tell himself in silence, 'That is enough Gaius'. He rests the bottle down on the ground next to his boot, before looking to the screens, then back at Juno, then back to the screens again, making sure to focus on her in his peripheral vision.

The Legatus does check to who is listening, but as Juno has seen, there is no eyes or ears here who would care. All to wrapped up in their own betting and drinks. "The Garlean Empire controls majority of Hydaelyn, which has unified itself into the Northern Ocean loop, what once was an entire world, now lies in that ocean... Eorzea and Ishgardian territory is all that we lack to rule the entirety of Hydaelyn."

"That said," He rests his chin on his arms still watching the screen. "The Hutts are a threat to a degree by the simple fact as you said... Galactic scale. For all of our technology from data pads, computers, and our airships that operate with no thrusters or propulsion as so many do... we have not mastered space."

"That is... something I one day hope to change. To see us master space, touch the stars, and no longer be bound to only the skies. I know it can be done, not only by the technology of your own Empire, but the Empire before our own. The Allagans... they make us... seem like children with toys." Gaius says with a gentle wonderment in his eyes, before he chuckles. "But then again, so does your own Empire and I am even sure these Hutts can make us look like babes with their own connections."

"No, I would never want to see the Garlean Empire or myself cross them. I don't think we could handle it and I honestly would never want to test those waters to see, my friend." Yes, he just called her his friend, and in his voice carried honesty in it as well. "How much does one of these races cost to be seen live?" Gaius ask changing to subject back to more entertaining matters as he tilts his head faintly as he observes a lean from the podracer.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Juno's attention lingers on the viewscreens and their announcement of the race, but she's watching the room and the Legatus both through her peripheral vision. She listens as he explains the political situation of the Garlean Empire, considering the details in silene.

space2)She cants her head slightly to one side, taking another sip of Corellian whisky as she listens to him describe the scale, and how the Hutts play into that design.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Honestly, the Hutts have their hands full with the galaxy they're busily exploiting." Juno rests her hin in a cupped hand, eyes flicking back to Gaius. "I expect they won't pay too much attention to the Garlean Empire or its hinterlands if they're too busy making sure they've got their grubby little mitts in every business legitimate and otherwise in Nar Shaddaa, Tattooine's podracing circuits, and various other shady and underhanded dealings." She lets her eyes half-close. "Actually, it's more likely that they haven't even noticed your world, yet."

"Hmmmmn... maybe. I'm sure the Galactic Empire could supply technology, but that's not something I can personally arrange. Not on the scale that you require. We can help you augment existing technology, but I'm not certain how willing to share the Imperial supply divisions would be if it comes to building a starship wholesale." She looks down to her shotglass, twirling it around listlessly. "I suppose I can put you in touch with the proper authorities, but that's all I can do."

Her eyes stray back towards the viewscreens, squinting as Gasgano and Sebulba trade proverbial blows, each jockeying for position through a field of dangerous rocks (and podracer wrecks).

"They won't." She seems reasonably confident in that assessment, absently watching the screen, but she didn't miss his address or his honesty; she's still watching him from the corner of her eye. "Like I said, they've got their hands full with their own galaxy. Keep an eye out, I'd say, but don't worry about it too much. Despite their unbridled avarice, they're not stupid; they know how to play the long game, and that's what makes them a force to be reckoned with. But they also won't shoot themselves in the foot for a quick profit, either. They won't act too aggressively, if they bother to spread into the Garlean Empire at all. Little things. Entertainment industries and black market operations... that sort of business; the sort that happens everywhere."

She shrugs at his question. "Depends on what planet and track we're talking about. Go to the Pouffra Circuit, it's going to be cheap. Nobody's interested in watching the rookie league take their first flight. Go to the Boonta Classic, you're going to be hemhorraging credits for a few weeks for the chance. Aquilaris isn't too bad, and it has a few good tracks." She rolls the toothpick in her mouth to the other side, considering as she watches the viewscreen. "Hmmm-mmmm. Malastare. Malastare has a few good courses. Grabvine Gateway is a nasty little piece of work, but it's difficult to see the action through the undergrowth. Malastare is also a high-G world. Some people find high-G worlds uncomfortable for the first time."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
"Honestly, I think our tech would be happy with the parts to pull apart, figure how it works, and then look into modifying it into our own." Gaius glances over to her, "They are resourceful, our engineers and techs, but they are smart enough to know that while having something wholesale is nice, if you can not backward engineer it to match the culture... you are shooting yourself in the foot." Like he is very aware of the situation with those hover bikes that Vi'Sharra gave them from her Clan. They are still picking and prodding at those, but getting closer. Maybe another year they will have it down... maybe another two at least.

Though his thoughts wonder back to the race, "I do not know of these places, but I do not know of many." He frowns, "I do want to change that, but I have to be careful where I roam and how." He watches as the two head racers fight for the lead. "I will have to look up the information on the database, perhaps go to one of these live and view it, hear it, haha, smell it."

Gaius muses about then, before he raises a brow, "If your friend," he hopes he doesn't have to say the name, "Was not so popular, I would be tempted to off maybe that all three of us go, or perhaps some others of the Confederacy. Make a day out of it, I bet even Serori may enjoy it... given the Saiyan people are a proud warrior race. They do enjoy a good battle and this spot is nothing but brutal from what I have watched."

This causes him to raise a brow. "...I wonder how well a Saiyan could pilot a Podracer." He chuckles a bit, "Though perhaps the better question is, how well would they take losing and of so, what would happen to the poor sap on the end of their anger... That is one place I would not want to be. On the bad end of a Saiyan." He then looks directly at Juno, "Have you seen Serori fight? Honestly observed her in combat, even in spar? She is brutal and tactical... and dangerous, very dangerous." There is indeed admiration in his voice and perhaps, even a bit of interest, though it is masked over as his eyes return back to the screen. After all, Gaius may have his own thoughts, but he also has his true interest elsewhere. Such as his men, his career, and even his own Dreadnought.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Either Juno's drinking something watered down, or she handles her alcohol as professionally as she does her piloting duties. Given her military background, it's entirely possible that she built up a respectable tolerance; in pursuit, perhaps, of fitting in and being 'one of the boys.' Aside from slowing down a little, or having a little trouble with hand-eye coordination, she doesn't seem to be showing too much trouble with basic functionality. No slurring; no strange lines of thought.

Of course, it's also notable that she hasn't poured herself any more. Apparently she knows what she's doing, and knows her limits.

"Reverse engineering is useful, but it only takes you so far. You have to develop something like that organically," she offers, even as she cocks an eye toward the viewscreens, watcing the green podracer. Gasgano; the one who doesn't cheat. "Otherwise, the next time something system-critical breaks, you're going to have no bloody notion of how to fix it. And that's just the beginning. You can't use technology you don't understand. That's just not sustainable."

She lays her hands flat on the table, thinning her lips. "You should have access to Imperial records and databases. It's not the most flexible security, but basic Confederate access is still enough to paint a picture of the galaxy. I can give you a datapad if you need something to access it from. I'd recommend looking up a few of the Core Worlds; it'll give you a decent idea of Imperial culture."

"I'm afraid I can't help his popularity. He's good at what he does, and his superiors haven't failed to recognise that." Juno's expression stays mostly neutral, but there's a faint hint of a smile at her mention of Starkiller; a faint warmth betrayed by all the whisky she's had so far – but it's faint, and it could easily just be one professional's respect for another's obvious skill. After all, she's been his pilot for quite some time, having outlasted Former Pilot Number Six for something on the order of several years.

She shrugs. "I'm not sure he'd care about podracing, though. His interests are fairly... narrow, shall we say. He's quite dedicated to his work, as well he should be. I'm just as content to watch it from a distance. Podracing crowds are regular dens of scum and villainy, as it were." She rolls the toothpick to the other side of her mouth, thoughtful. "Not that I care, but the pickpocketers get annoying after the third or fourth attempt. I get tired of having to brandish my blaster."

"The Colonel?" Juno arches a brow. "I have no idea. Frankly, I haven't dealt with her overmuch, and I couldn't say what she likes or dislikes. Nor have I observed too much of her. Most of the time my other, ah, duties, keep me rather occupied." The end of the toothpick is chewed on a little. "I also haven't got much reason to participate in hand-to-hand combat. In fact, I make a point of avoiding it." She is, notably, not the axe-crazy force of nature toting a lightsaber around. She's also smarter than the average stormtrooper, so that means playing to her strengths and avoiding her weaknesses like the plague.

She squints at the screen, almost scowling; another podracer is shoved into a sheer cliff face, although it stumbles and manages to avoid exploding, Sebulba's unmistakably orange podracer takes advantage of the confusion to scream into the lead.

There comes from Juno's side of the table the unmistakable sound of a toothpick being snapped between her teeth.

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The Black Wolf observes the race as they talk, listening to what she has to say, as his brows furrow at times to what he sees. "Oh, I do not disagree. They tend to backward engineer it, rebuild it, take it apart, run a few more prototypes, till eventually it is of their own and nothing of the original. Something they fully understand, but... I am no engineer. I do tinker at times and I can jury rig. along with do some engineering assistant works, but... build something from nothing..."

"I'll leave that to the professionals." He admits with a gruff in his voice. In truth he probably could, but only in a pinch and really, he knows the only reason that is even possible is because of an old friend who spent far to much time talking his ear off about the ins and ours of a servo motor, ceruleum circuit, and other devices. Gaius also learned from this adventures with his old friend.... Once you get a mechanic going who loves their job, they don't shut up about it either.

"And pick pocketing is that bad hm? That is a shame, oh well, perhaps another event as for... lack of interests.." He did note the smile, but he isn't going to bring it up or bring attention to it. "All of us who have our love of careers always have something else we enjoy. Just sometimes, its discovering what that is... and that is not always easy. Hard when the individual doesn't want too..."

Gaius doesn't finish his thought as he watches the crash and hears Juno's toothpick snap. He silently wonders if that racer was the one she had a bet on or if there was something else going on here. He sits up a bit as his eyes glue to the screens, now ignoring her presence for the most part. "Displeased?" Is all Gaius asks as he watches how things now play out between the racers.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"I could build something from scratch if I had to, but only if it relates to a starship. Even then, I prefer to work from schematics." Juno sakes her head. "I could strip my ship's sublight drives to rivets and bolts, and I'm reasonably confident I could reassemble them in working order. Hyperdrive, too, but I haven't really got much reason to do that."

Fortunately, Juno seems to be one of those rare mechanics who does love her job, and also knows when to shut up about it.

"It's a problem. Maybe it's not as bad as it could be, but it's still a bit of a problem. It happens in any of the more unsavoury places throughout the galaxy, and worlds like Malastare are full of all sorts of unsavoury types. You just have to project an air of confidence, I suppose. Thieves respond to that kind of thing. Oh, and carry a blaster." She smiles, the expression a little bit nasty. "You know. Just in case."

Meanwile, she discretely removes the two halves of toothpick from her mouth, tossing them aside and fetching herself another one, rolling it from one side of her mouth to the other and frowning. "I have a lot of credits riding on Gasgano. I was also hoping skill could win out over Sebulba's usual inelegant tactics. Well, the race isn't over yet, although they're running out of competitors."

"Hm? Oh, he has other interests. At least, as far as I know," she adds, almost as an afterthought; as though she were obfuscating how much she really knows about the Inquisitor. "They're just not 'podracing.' Not that I know of. It's not strictly ilegal, but it's also not the kind of thing your typical Imperial citizen follows. Slightly frowned upon, you could say. As to whether or not he attempts to emulate the average Imperial citizen or not, though, I couldn't tell you. I don't even know what his real name is. Nobody does." A lie, but a calculated one, along with a casual shrug to sell it. She is, in fact, rather decent at lying when it serves her. "A regular enigma, but the pay is good and I can't argue with the chance to fly a ship like that."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius gives a faint nod as she explains a bit about Starkiller and the pay, then the ship. "Yeah, I can understand that." He says with a mild smirk. "If I had a chance to fly a ship like that, I would in a heart beat. I love flying... at least that seems to be something we agree on." Maybe they agree on more, like this podracing, but the Legatus is not going to push his luck. While he does enjoy learning about the Confederate members, at least those he is sure he can click well with, he knows that he should not push it.

This though, this was an strange happen chance and a happen chance he was not going to argue the results with. Though he does rest his chin in the palm of his hand as he continues to observe the race. "I also can not blame your bet, I would leaned more toward skill myself to be honest, yet... sometimes... it does require a brutal touch, but working with who you do," He smirks. "You already know this."

Silence finds the older man once more as he watches the race. His mind though starting to trail off on other details, perhaps cause he knows the race will be ending soon and he'll need to return to his duties. Not to forget the delegation he has to attend in the morning over in Ala Mhigo, then followed by the evening back in Garlemald for war council talk as they continue to debate over the threat of a growing problem, or at least, potential torn in the side.

His vision does drift from the screen over to Juno for a moment, perhaps in turn trying to make sure he remembers how she acted and how she was before realizing who he was. Maybe just this moment in general, shoving it away into memory. After all, he was aware such chances as these are rare and she would return, like himself, back to the prim and proper manner life of a career soldier. All business, no play. No life – as some would say, but it was a life to him, just not a life many understood on the outside of it.

This at last brings him to talk as he looks to the screen once more. "I know you have a great career and you work with a very interesting man, but if you had a choice..." He looks to her, curiosity peeked in his voice, "Would you have chosen another path in life?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Maybe she wouldn't describe herself as honourable, but it does fit. She has moral integrity in a galactic organisation that generally doesn't, and that, too, shows on the naval records her Confederate allies have access to. Even more impressive, she's still alive amidst an organisation that rewards apathy, ambition, or good old-fashioned psychosis. The latter, at least, was subtly encouraged among the rank and file TIE pilots.

"I prefer skill," she insists, eyeing the viewscreen somewhat balefully.

Maybe that's a reflection on herself; a pilot who clawed her way through the ranks through sheer ability and determination. She wasn't promoted because of status or funding; she earned her posting, and attracted the attention of Darth Vader, through pure skill. Maybe she wants Gasgano to run away with this race, because it's a reflection of skill winning over unfair play.

Thoughtfully, she rolls the toothpick around to the other side of her mouth; as the two podracers jockey for position along the final stretch. They're not quite there yet, still a canyon or two away from the finish line and the spectator stands, and that's probably the only reason she glances back over to Gaius instead of watching the viewscreen.

The toothpick goes from one side to the other, and Juno frowns thoughtfully as she considers her answer.

"I almost went into civil engineering," she states, blandly. After a few sceonds of silence, it's clear she's not actually joking, and shrugs. "I decided it would be too boring. Also, it involved too much geometry. I took away just enough of my studies in that field to be useful – how to undermine a structure with a surgical strike from a TIE bomber." Her eyes flick back to the viewscreens. "Piloting was more exciting, to me."

"The boundary between atmosphere and orbit and hyperspace never get old, to me." Her eyes linger on the viewscreen, but something about her stare seems more distant than that, watching not that dry and dusty race, but someting far beyond it. "And when I have a starship's controls under my hand, I feel... free."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
'I feel free' Those words that escape from Juno's lips are words Gaius can understand, as he closes his eyes in a perhaps silent understanding. For while he may command the Dreadnought, her controls were not foreign to him. He could easily steer her himself if he had too and sometimes – he does. Just like a captain of an old sailing ship taking over the steering wheel. He does the same at times, calls it 'just a refresher', but in truth – its all about freedom, isn't it?

The Black Wolf leans back in the chair, careful how he does so given the back of it is in front of him instead of behind. His gold eyes open and look to her for that moment, before back at the screen. He has no words to he, oh he could say 'I am glad you chose piloting' or 'It is good to follow the heart', but really, must words express this mutual understanding?

"I am not sure what I would have become." Gaius says as he answers his own question he gave to her. "House Baelsar is not an overly rich house, stable farm really out in the hills. Horses and produce." So he is a farmer boy? Something like that it seems. "Many of the horses were bred for military use... father served as well, for a time... and my best friend was of the Garlond House... a very creative, inventive house that continued to hold some of the most excellent minds that Garlemald had ever seen, only second to House Darnus, and that was because Darnus had all the Allagan history records."

Gaius shrugged his shoulders. "I joined the military when I could because I wanted adventure and I wanted to be something great, to prove myself." He softly chuckles, "But who doesn't want to prove themselves in some way, but youth... in youth I was foolish, arrogant and cocky. Surprised I honestly have lived this long... but some say it was because I was ruthless and cunning."

Gaius drums his fingers on the back of the chair, "...and maybe if I did not choose the military path...I am not sure really. Our society, our culture, is so built on proving yourself, built on the backbone of merit..." his brows furrow a bit. "...I just can not see myself be anything but where I am." It is hard to say if this bothers him or not, but he does seem confounded by this notion. This thought of being something other then what he is, because what better way was there to prove yourself, then to actually be in the military? Though as his thoughts continue to chew over this he does say softly, "Maybe a cartographer for the unexplored lands...."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
That freedom is one of the reasons why Juno could be content with her posting aboard the Rogue Shadow. It isn't the same as commanding a capital ship. Although prestigious, the bridge of a Star Destroyer just isn't the same as piloting a starfighter or a transport, and giving orders to a helmsman doesn't carry the same sense of freedom.

It takes a certain personality to command the crew of a large ship, and while she has the moral integrity to do it with flying colours, it's not the same. If anything, it would be even more stifling, to be bound to and hold responsibility for all of those people she could never connect with; people whom she would never understand, and who would never understand her. In some ways that would be worse than having her wings clipped entirely.

She shrugs. "My family isn't what you'd call a formal house, but they've been known for loyal naval service, with the exception of my parents. My father was an architect for Corulag's engineering corps. My mother was a teacher." The way she talks about her father is almost dismissive, although not quite cold; there's certainly no love lost with him.

It was an escape, more than anything else. It got her off of Corulag, and she could choose her own path from there, free of the disapproval and the bitterness of her father.

"I didn't want to prove myself." She looks to the viewscreen again, distant. "I just wanted the feeling of handling a starfighter's controls. I didn't know it at the time, of course. I never enrolled with the intent of becoming a pilot; it was suggested to me when my aptitude tests came back with such high marks. I have what they call a sense of place. I suppose everybody has a knack for something. I happen to know my orientation when I've got the controls of a starship in hand." And lightning-quick reflexes, of course, or she wouldn't be sitting on this stool today.

"Cartography," she echoes, thoughtfully. "Astrogation, star charts... the Empire doesn't necessarily sponsor those kinds of things, out on the 'frontier.' Too lawless, out on the Outer Rim. Not enough order or Imperial presence to bring that kind of thing in hand." Her eyes flick to the viewscreens again. The racers are getting close to the end of the track, and it looks like Sebulba's taken the lead again.

Juno sighs, eyeing the standings balefully. Gasgano had better step on the gas if he wants to win that race; it looks like Sebulba's getting serious, or at least feeling pressured, and therefore leaving nothing to chance. His aggressive piloting certainly makes it seem like he's going to make Gasgano fight tooth and nail for that victory.

Her eyes turn back to the table, and she considers the empty shotglass, somewhat dolefully. She's had enough that another would probably be a bad idea. "Hm. I'm not sure. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I'd chosen civil engineering. Usually I come to the conclusion that I would have been desperately bored with life."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The Legatus watches as the race drives one and it seems like its getting closer to a finish, there is a mild frown to that. Its ending, probably much like this conversation may be shortly after the race. Though this wasn't a bad thing, but the rare opportunity... he never passed up the chance to learn about others.

Gaius notes Juno's tone about her father, though not so for her mother really, he raises a brow at this, before remains quiet for now. Listening as she explains the aptitude test and how she got to where she is in more detail then he heard before. This followed by the fact of wondering if she been bored if she had gone down the career she wanted to go down in the first place.

The older man hrms a bit, as he looks to her, "Well, I am glad you made the choice you did or we probably would not be here having this conversation or... maybe we would have, but probably not in the same manner. I've been told time has a crazy way of making particular events happen as they should, no matter how crazy time itself can get." Though Gaius does chuckle a bit at that, "Though such a theory was constructed before the Multiverse was knowledge to us, so I do wonder how it impacts such an idea."

Though instead of focusing on the father, Gaius actually asks her about her mother, "You said your mother was a teacher, correct? What did she teach?"

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Podracers fly past the cameras, although it looks like the ranks are thinned to a paltry half-dozen repulsorcraft by this point. Of those, only the two in the lead matter. Gasgano and Sebulba are now duellin for supremacy of a narrow slot canyon, littered with rocks and the ghosts of podraces past. Or at least the debris of podraces past. There are natives here and there, robed rough-looking fellows with rifles, taking occasional potshots at the ranks of repulsorcraft speeding by.

Juno answers Gaius, but she keeps her eyes on the viewscreens as she does; it's clear she's running odds and probabilities in her head as she does by her slightly distracted tone.

"Actually, I'd probably be dead. In spite of stringent training requirements and psychological stress-testing, TIE fighter pilots generally haven't got a very long life expectancy. It's a dangerous line of work, and a hard lifestyle, too. Ship life doesn't suit everyone." The Emperor doesn't have quite as much of a stranglehold on the galactic politial climate as he might like. Certainly not as much as the propaganda would indicate. His actions might even be construed as desperate, by some.

Hunter's anxiety tends to account for the rest. Few pilots ever find a way to cope with it in the long term, and while she had found methods here and there to keep herself as calm as could be expected, not all of the pilots ever did. A life spent on the TIE racks is a hard one.

Leaning back against her stool, resting the lean line of her lower back against the counter, she tilts her head to look up at the screens and thins her lips at the readings there. Fortunately, Gaius offers convenient distractions from the topic of the race – only to exchange it for another topic she doesn't particularly care for. Something dims in those blue eyes as she looks away, not meeting the Legatus' gaze.

"She taught primary school, so she dabbled in a bit of everything. I really don't remember much of her." Her eyes lift to the viewscreen again. "She died when I was five years old."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The race continues and the Legatus watches it with keen, hunter interest now. Including as the shots are fired from locals which causes his head tilt slightly, almost puppy like really in some mild confusion as to why. He does listen as Juno explains about the bad life of being a pilot and while he has heard this explanation before, it also seems to sink in a bit deeper each time. Her life is a very difficult one compared to the life he grew up on as a pilot.

Juggernauts at least were safe, even with the Ceruleum cells, so where even the drop airships and patrolles. So the fact such a society with such an advance technology could have something so flimsy, so dangerous, was... an outlandish thought. Why didn't they care for the people? Then again... he knew a few Legatuses who also didn't care for their own either, one who is haunting him in his return.

Then Gaius notes the sudden distant look and hears Juno explain that her mother died when she was five. He internally winces a little and his own gold eyes glance off a bit, before he shifts his weight slightly. That was... not where he meant for that conversation to go and he was not sure how to recover from that misstep.

Juno was also perhaps, not much older then his adopted daughter really, maybe a bit older, so he had to ask himself now, how... would he fix this if he stepped wrong with Livia? Not that he did often and when he did, he knew it from a death glare a mile wide and sharp as any industrial laser cutter on the assembly line.

There was probably that odd silence as Gaius determined how to step right again and he softly hm'ed as he lowered he head. "My apologies then." He said softly, there was a hint his voice of being a bit lost where to go, but he does try to recover as he speaks, "So the Ship's Maintenance," Yes lets try that one. "You seem to really enjoy it, any particular part you like working on or.. despise?"

The Legatus looks to the screen, though his eyes move between it and her, "When I was younger, before a my higher rank, I use to hate having to help out with cleaning the filters and making sure pipe ways were clear... though the system has changed some for our airships, but I still remember the smell."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Oh. Them." Juno waves a hand somewhat dismissively. "They're one of the native sentients of Tattooine, the planet the Boonta Classic and Boonta Eve Classic are held on. Those are the Sand People. Some people call them Tuskens, or Tusken Raiders, but it doesn't really matter. They'd as soon shoot you as look at you, anyway. Vicious, war-like tribal society." Juno flashes a sour smile. "Not very nice people."

Fortunately, Juno seems vaguely distracted with the business of following the high-stakes, high-speed race. Maybe she just doesn't think much of the social faux pas; it's one anybody would make, and it isn't as though he knows enough or has access to the right information to have done so purposefully.

She flicks a hand in dismissive gesture, apparently none the worse for the wear despite that mistake. Maybe she picks up on his indecision on where to go after that. Or maybe it's just old ground, and painful territory long left behind. It's an unfortunate piece of her past, but her mother's been gone for so long that she no longer feels the same pain. It's a much more manageable dull ache, these days.

"Hyperdrives. Ion sublights. I enjoy the engines of starships, even if they're also a bit finicky sometimes." Her eyes stay on the screens, narrowing as the two lead podracers duke it out in a duel of high-speed death-stakes manoeuvring, each attempting to outfox the other; to be the one that doesn't slam into a rock outcropping at seven hundred kilometers per hour. "I actually prefer flying to maintenance, but I like my machines to be running at their full potential." Half a flicker of a smile. "Especially that one."

Half a glance cast back to Gaius, then. "We have simple droids to handle things like filtration systems, but for the most part, they're designed to be as simple and easy to maintain as possible. I'd say idiot-proof, but then again, the galaxy always finds ways to produce more idiotic idiots."

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The Black Wolf chuckles a bit at her comment about idiots and he actually grins, an honest, true grin, even if eyes are mostly fixed on the screen as things are getting more heated between the two races. One of skill and one of cheats, this was going to be interesting...

"Seems no matter where you go, that is a universal truth. Including it seems like idiots breed with idiots, because all of us with brains between our ears have better things to be doing." Gaius admits with a mild roll of his eyes before leans a bit on his chair once, with his arms crossed against the back and his boots raised up on the heels, before he taps his toes to the ground. "At least that is how the universe likes to show the cards."

The Legatus then looks to her and raises a brow a bit. "And engines hm? Why does this not surprise me." The grin slowly becomes a smirk. "A good engine gets anyone far, a better engine will last forever, and an engine that is loved will last a lifetime of abuse and give everything she has for the pilot in control of her throttles."

"That and there is no sound more beautiful then a purring, happy engine... or a roaring one, depending how you like to see the beast." Gaius adds with a slight shrug of his shoulders and an gentle smile on his lips. Though his focus grows tense again at the race as if bothered by something for a moment, before he looks over to Juno, then back to the screen once more.

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
"Well," Juno drawls, lifting her empty shotglass and studying it disinterestedly, "they do say stupidity and hydrogen are the most common elements in the galaxy. It certainly seems true, some days. Do you know why I don't have any assistance to help me with the maintenance? Because if you want something done right, you do it yourself."

Also because Starkiller might have to arrange for an accident with a lightsaber if they learned too much, but that's beside the point. There are far more disadvantages to having an assistant than advantages. Already she has difficulty in relaxing when they aren't aboard the Citadel or isolated in deep space; having an outsider around on the close confines of the Rogue Shadow would fray her nerves past the breaking point.

Folding her arms, she leans back against the counter, balancing neatly on the stool with one boot hanging off the bottom rung. "Mmmm. Because they're complicated, I suppose. The heart of a starship, and the reason why we can traverse the stars." Summer-blue eyes hooding, she regards the viewscreens with an almost feline disinterest, although she's still watching those odds play out on the ticker. "They only roar when they need to. If they're roaring all the time, then they've got an incompetent pilot at the helm."

"I can tell a starship by the sound of its engines, you know. TIE starfighters are all the same, but I think I could recognise the one I flew if I heard it." Her eyes wander the bar, watching the rest of the patrons for a few moments. "It's probably just wishful thinking on my part, though. They're stripped and refurbished and maintained and repaired so many times... they're functionally different starfighters after every sortie. But that other ship..." The Rogue Shadow, that is, "I'd recognise that sound anywhere."

She falls silent, somewhat brooding as she watches the racers duelling on the viewscreen, thinking her slow, silent thoughts. Thoughts partly soaked by cheap Corellian whisky, no less; although she's guarded enough to suggest more sobriety than intoxication. After a few moments, she seems to come out of her reverie, glancing back to regard Gaius with an oblique glance. "What about you? You seem like an engineer. What got you started down that track?"

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
The Legatus watches her for a moment, but those gold eyes go back to the screen observing the movements of the podracers and wonder which will fall first. While Juno may be keeping and eye on the numbers, he was observing the actions, the motions of the podracer vehicles, how they swayed and pitched. Like observing for any weakness or strength, though in truth there probably was not much to be found.

As she explains that the best way to do it is yourself, Gaius can not argue that logic. There is actually a minor nod of his head and some agreement in his eyes. No argument to come on that stance, given he has done this a few times himself over his long career. As she goes into explaining the engines and how she may known the sound of her old tie fighter, a smirk slides on his features and then a soft chuckle escapes as she expresses that she knows the Rogue Shadow'ssound anywhere. "I would imagine you would," He add with a bigger smile. "As you should, hm?"

Gaius also notes her studying of the glass and a part of him almost wants to offer her a drink, just by how she was staring upon it, even while she seems to drift off into her own thoughts, but he thinks better of it. He has had enough to drink himself and there was no reason to tread down old grounds, not here anyways. At least this conversation and enjoyable company was enough to get his mind of some even deeper issues bubbling down low that he dared not dread up.

Though when Juno asks him about his own engineering skills, he falls deathly silent and his gold eyes drift away from her and the screens. Maybe he would take that drink again, because there was a past he didn't like stepping down, even if he sometimes hint too it or lightly bring up names. Old memories tied to that story, good and bad.

The Pureblood Garlean licked his upper teeth in thought to her question, those gold eyes roaming across the bar, before he sighed and at last looked at her. "And old friend of mine, like brother to me, a brother I never had... his name was Midus Garlond. Brilliant mind, brilliant engineer. If you could dream it, he could build it and his son Cid, who is," Was, he mentally corrects himself, "my godson, had his father's gift as well."

Gaius laughs softly, but its a bit of a sad laugh, "When your best friend is into building anything and everything and so is his kid, you learn the lingo, the parts, and the tools. Including finding yourself dragged into the inventions because they needed a hand with something." There was a hint of sadness still in his eyes, yet also a meek, distant smile. Mixed emotions it would seem on such a subject, even though he was trying hard to push them back down. He almost even reached for the bottom next to his foot, but stopped himself in mid motion to rub the back of his neck, before scratching a bit at the side of his face at the stubble of hair he needed to shave when he got back. "They would have liked you..."

Juno Eclipse (428) has posed:
Those blue eyes are also watching the repulsorcraft, too, but she pays more attention to the numbers than the racers. She has money riding on the outcome of this, but more importantly to her, professional pride. More than the money, she has the hope that skill can win out over dishonesty; sheer talent over barbarism.

He's right about the soundness of the craft. They can't afford any mistakes, especially with the stresses such vehicles are under; the slightest mistake in maintenance, and the whole thing would blow apart as soon as it took a turn wrong.

"I can't afford my own mistakes, let alone someone else's mistakes. Better to do it myself, check my work three times like I'm accustomed to doing, and be certain." Juno twirls the shotglass before setting it aside for good. No more whisky tonight. She's already trying to hold herself together, and she doesn't need to be courting a hangover in the morning. No doubt she'll have some kind of work or another to do, and she'd rather do it with a clear head.

Glancing at the screens, she frowns around her toothpick, although it doesn't seem like there's a clear victor from the podracing duel.

Her eyes flick to Gaius, though, noting the way he seems to mingle past and present tense when he talks about his godson. She doesn't comment on it, though; the tightness around his eye and the melancholy in his laugh suggest this isn't ground he wants to tread; no more than she wants to talk about her father or her mother.

"I'd have been honoured to meet them, I think." Juno rubs at her jaw, as though she were at a loss for words. What do you say to that? There's obviously some kind of history there, painful history, and she's not cruel enough to ask him to dredge it up in the mame of drunken curiosity. She has that much self-restraint left.

Unable to decide, she settles for humble gratitude, although not as formal as it could be. She's had one too many shots of whisky for formality, at this point. "Thanks."

Fortunately, she's distracted from too much more of that. A collective groan rises from half the room as the viewscreen's camera cuts to the bright orange podracer; Sebulba's prominent snout can be seen turning from side to side, one hand rising from the cockpit controls in a fist, as though accepting due accolades. His name and rank flash across the screen – he's won.

Juno slaps a hand flat on the countertop and hangs her head, as though genuinely annoyed. "Two thousand credits," she groans, rubbing at her face. "Cheating bastard. I should just start betting on that cheating son of a nerf..."

"I suppose I should probably get going," she adds with a sour grin, "while I'm still sober enough to walk. The ship's running a thorough systems diagnostic, so I know I won't be needed for certain things." Inquisitorial duties, that is. "But I should sleep this off while I've still got the opportunity to. Flying through a hangover isn't pretty."

Kicking off from the stool, she hops back to her feet, although she wavers just slightly; she rummages in a pocket for a moment for enough to cover her tab and the Legatus' as well, plunking it down uncerimoniously on the counter. "It's on me, this time."

"Be seeing you." Juno lifts a hand in a wave, sauntering for the door with nothing of the military rigidity she normally shows; casual, or at least tipsy enough not to care. Unless he should happen to stop her with a word or a gesture, she'll head right on through, back to the Citadel's hangars.

Gaius Van Baelsar (522) has posed:
Gaius gives a nod to the fact she would have been honored and he taps the back of his molars together in silent thought, displaying perhaps a rare moment where his guard is actually a bit down and he is being just a man really instead of some high ranking official with a ton of duties upon his shoulders, like some kind of god Atlas or another.

Though when she says thanks, he looks directly at her and smiles softly. "And thank you, my friend. Its been... a rare treat." Though when he hears the sound of disappointment around, his eyes like hers go to the screens and he frowns, deeply following by a sharp tsk about the time Juno slams her own hand down in frustration. Perhaps like here, there was an equal desire to see the other win.

"One day..." Gaius says softly, "...someone will outplay him." He sound rather sure of himself on that, even if Juno was right at the guy has been winning years by cheating, Gaius is pretty sure that someone will have his number. Someone always does for those types. Though he watches her place down the tab and start to get up, he gets up on his own two boots, kicks the chair back into place and picks up the bottle.

He listens to her words about flying through a hang over and sleeping it off. He can see it in her walk and honestly he knows he probably wont be to much longer for the world himself. Including needing to stash this bottle with the rest of his assorted bottles of liquor. As Juno walks by and makes her way out, Gaius does call over to her, "Hey," He starts out before giving her a nod of his head, "Probably words not required, but, be safe and see you around as well."

He doesn't stop her from leaving, beyond those simple words, he only stands there and watches her walk out. Those gold eyes observing her before he looks back at the screen, then to the tab. As he stared at the tab, his mind went over to the number she stated regarding how much she lost on the bet, slowly his eyes moved away from the bar counter entirely. "...two thousand credits, huh?" He says to himself long after she is gone. "...hm." Then starts to make his won way out of this crazy bar.