Nar Shaddaa

Despite the rather abnormal amount of drinking he'd done the night before, Niall found himself waking feeling quite refreshed. Better than he had in some time, perhaps.

And so he rose, bright and early; of course, it had been bright when he'd gone to bed. Dressed smartly in more casual Alderaanian clothing, he found his way to the door of petty officer Ormont. He rang the door chime authoritatively.

Cole had been nursing a headache when he woke up, but he was easily enough able to manage that. He'd been sitting on the bed, studying a holomodel of some internal organ that humans didn't have, when the doorchime sounded.

He rolls off the bad, sauntering over the chair where he'd left his pack and belt, slinging the belt around his hips with a casual movement and fastening it. It made a bright and loud CLICK as the buckle closed, that made him sigh and shake his head.

He ran both hands through his hair, and stood near the centre of the room, "enter."

Another press of the button, and the door slid open. Niall stepped in, looking fit and refreshed, and entirely like a morning person. Even his hair, cut short but stylish, had been freshly washed and combed.

He gave the older man of lower rank a nod. "Petty officer Ormont. Thank you for seeing me."

At the sight of the Captain, Cole snapped to attention. His shoulders went back, shoulders straight, heels together. He executed the kind of clipped, flawless salute that takes more than just eight years in the military to perfect.

"Captain Organa, sir." His usually neutral expression took on a few more layers of armour. His hair was a mess and it looked like he'd slept in his uniform, though he was back in field kit instead of the officer's dress he'd worn to the party. He looked well enough rested, and military training had him otherwise squared away and cleanly shaved.

Niall waved a hand, smiling. "I think that satisfies that. After all, in medical matters, you outrank me, doctor."

"So, ah..." He hesitated, one hand going to the front of his uniform jacket. "It seemed like a good idea to make sure everything was working properly. I exerted myself rather heavily, yesterday. I know the kolto treatments were effective, but I wanted to be entirely sure."

A twitch of an eyebrow, "exerted, sir?" Cole picks up his medpack, vacating the only chair in the room, and indicates for the Captain to sit. The room is bare of personal accoutrements, if it weren't for the datapad on the bed, one might think no one was staying there.

But there are two large monitors on the desk, and Cole takes out the mediscanner and palm-sized diagnostic computer. The monitors flash to life, waiting for input.

"Huttball." Niall said, his tone dry. "I used to play grav-ball back in Academy. That was invigorating. Huttball is like grav-ball, but with much more violence. If grav-ball is invigorating, I'm not sure what word I'd use to describe Huttball."

He sat on the indicated chair. "Should I take this off?" He tugged at the front of his jacket. "Or can you do the examination with it on?"

Stiffly, "if you've been on the huttball court, a visual exam might be warranted. I'd prefer to be thorough. At you discretion, of course, Captain." He turned to face the soldier, pushing a hand through his curls as he leans against the desk, "you can strip to the waist, or simply remove the jacket."

Cole adjusts a setting on the mediscanner, apparently focusing rather intently on the small device, "but I didn't pull extra shifts on the kolto tanks to see your healing progress undone on the huttball court."

Niall tilted his head upwards, lifting his chin entirely over the high collar of the jacket as he undid the buttons. "Yes, doctor." He said with a sigh, his lips twisting just slightly upwards.

He shrugged out of the jacket, and began working on the tunic underneath. "It's for a good cause though, really. I'm working with some Imperials on the team. They're not bad sorts, really. I think they respect me, and a mixed team performing well certainly looks good on the holonet."

He pulled off his tunic as well. Niall was fit but slender, with lean muscle and very little fat. He had the same delicate bone structure in his body as was hinted at in his handsomely aristocratic features. His skin was lightly tanned, except for the fresh pinkish patch in the shape of a star almost exactly in the center of his chest.

Cole's expression reveals nothing, certainly not the sudden and exceptionally unprofessional plunge of his stomach. He gives the Captain a pass with the mediscanner set to wide and data begins to populate the two monitors.

"You're still dehydrated from last night," he narrows the scan range and begins a second pass, "I can give you something, but old-fashioned water is just as good." He sidles between the soldier and the monitors for a moment, moving the various displays of information around, uncomfortably aware of the closeness before extricating himself to continue the scan.

"I suppose I should see a game or two."

If Niall noticed any discomfort on Cole's part he didn't show it.

"Of course." Niall sighed. "I'll have water, thank you. It makes sense, following up vigorous activity with alcohol. That was part of duty, I suppose. Just like being back on Alderaan, except my drinks actually had alcohol in them this time." His lips twisted.

"You should." He said. "It's very exciting. And our cheering section last night was rather small." He chuckled. "I have hopes that it will grow."

Circling back to stand in front of the youthful Captain, Cole puts the mediscanner into a pouch on his belt. He consulted the small diagnostic computer for a long moment, "everything looks good, sir, you can dress now." A few quick taps and monitors go dark and blank once more.

"When's your next game?"

"Oh, good." Niall said. "I never doubted your work, of course. But I wanted to be absolutely sure."

He slipped back into his tunic, and began rebuttoning it. "There's another game today, I believe. We're still coordinating the time. Most likely sometime this afternoon, standard time."

Cole grunted in acknowledgement and carelessly tossed the diagnostic computer on the desk next to him.

"Sir, before you go," he pushes a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I heard about your sister. My condolences."

Niall's expression grew a bit more serious, but not much. "Oh, yes, thank you. It was quite a shock to all of us, of course."

He pulled his jacket back on, but didn't quite stand. "I actually got a bit of closure on that. I don't know if you'd heard, but we managed to capture her killer yesterday. He's going to be sent back to Alderaan for trial." Niall didn't quite smile, but he looked less grim, anyway.

With a curt nod, "very good."

"I shall endeavour to make it to a game soon. Was there anything else, sir?" Cole's tone was professional, like his expression.

Niall nodded, rising to his feet. "Not really. Nothing official anyway." He sighed.

After a moment, he gave the man a sharper look, his grey eyes penetrating. "Everything all right with you, Officer Ormont? How have you been finding your time on Nar Shaddaa so far?"

Cole crossed his arms loosely over his chest, "I'm hoping it's too soon to judge that, sir. I spent some time down in the Red Light District. There's a shelter there with nothing more than some cots and bandages, but they call it a clinic," his eyes were like a pale mirror to Niall's, closer to silver than steel, but they had darkened perceptibly as he spoke, his nostrils flaring in frustration.

"I attended the party last night, I believe I saw you there. It was interesting," he concludes, non-committally, his personal interests being at something of an odds with those of his superiors. The Captain's penetrating gaze was starting to discomfort him, like leaving your hand under a heat lantern for too long, is there something in particular he wants of me?

"As for today," his arms unfold as one hand goes through his hair, "I'm waiting to see if I'll be called up for the talks. Outside the slums, there doesn't seem to be much call for qualified surgeons on Nar Shaddaa. And even there, they'll happily take any mug with an emergency medpack, sir."

"No doubt. Nar Shaddaa has a strong separation between the haves and the have-nots. Those who have every whim satisfied, and those who lack even basic necessities." Niall's tone is dryly disapproving. One might think that such was a strange sentiment coming from a noble.

"You found the party interesting, you say?" Niall's eyebrows went up, although his gaze relaxed somewhat. "I'd be interested in any specific impressions you had. I certainly met a few interesting individuals myself."

"Did you happen to notice an attractive Sith in a black cocktail gown? You may want to watch that one, sir, she speaks her mind," he says cryptically. "With your permission to speak freely, sir; apart from what happened at the spaceport, it looks like everyone's really been on their best behaviour, sir. That's enough to make me suspicious. The Admiral will certainly see it as a sign of weakness, if the Imperials are so willingly entertaining these talks."

"I'm... not sure. You may need to be more specific." Niall's lips twitched. "I met three Sith yesterday, but only one at the party. Shaisha, a trueblood sith. She actually assisted with my bounty business. I may need to see more of her." Niall's lips pursed thoughtfully.

"Then there was Layne, a human. I wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. I'd say that she was a typical moody teenager, except she regularly kills people. Her antics both frustrated me and made me laugh." He shook his head.

"The third called herself The Red Wraith, a twi'lek. Red. She was pretty much the model Sith from Repubic propaganda videos. Very hostile, very aggressive. I wouldn't turn my back on her." He hesitated a moment. "On any of them, if I could help it. But part of me liked Layne, and I owe Shaisha a debt, and would willingly put myself in danger for her. If not from her." He shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure what to make of that, I admit."

A near-imperceptible tightening of the jaw, a slight narrowing of his eyes, Cole drew himself up, less casual and more at ease, soldier, "I don't think that's any of my business, sir."

His jaw was still stiff, "the pureblood's the only one I've met, sir," I have been mentoring a young Jedi and providing free medical care in the slums, he thought defensively.

Niall glanced at Cole, his expression a little dubious. "I suppose." He said. "But please, we can drop rank. If you have an opinion, I should be glad to hear it."

Cole crosses his arms in front of him once more. The gesture was casual enough, unless you took into account the coolly impassive expression that made him impossible to read. "Shaisha assisted you, and now you owe her. With all due respect, you'd better pay her back before she takes compensation out of your hide," sir, he mentally added.

"Yes, I thought of that, of course." Niall said, nodding, his tone still light. "But believe me, I know better than to do anything that would dishonor myself, or the uniform I wear. But if we're not willing to extend at least a modicum of trust to each other, what good are these peace talks?"