Nar Shaddaa

I can't believe this shit
Every moment I'm awake


Close to the Stadium uptown was a huttball training facility.

Cole was running a beep test on an empty court. The Republic compound had a gym and a track, sure, but it was also overrun with soldiers. Still, a certain minimum fitness was an essential component of his service, and he figured no one would think to look for him here, of all places. He started at an easy lope, crossing the field to reach down and touch the boundary line, going into a runner’s crouch. His datapad beeped, and he pushed off again. He ran with a loose form, like a marionette controlled by an unskilled puppeteer.

The time between the beeps grew steadily shorter, Cole pushing off harder each time. While he still had the time to do so, he peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the ground near the datapad. The Hutts kept things far too hot and humid for his preference, and he was already sweating.

"What are you doing?" Vera stood at the side of the court with her arms crossed. She then shrugged. "Su cuy'gar. Your form is all wrong. You'd run faster if you didn't flail your arms about."

Pulling up short and turning towards the voice, Cole narrows his pale eyes and cocks an eyebrow slightly. "Wasn't expecting an audience."

"I wasn't expecting a show. A pretty bad one, at that." Her eyes widened as she gestured for him to keep running. "Nar dralshy'a, nar dralshy'a! Run!"

He scoffs and snags his shirt from where it lies on the ground, using it to wipe his face. Under the harsh court lights his skin glistens with sweat, and the blonde curls trailing down his abdomen are darkened. "The hell do you think you are, to give me orders?"

"Vera Ordo, that's who." She then started to laugh and shook her head. "You have some fight in you, so that's good." A pause. "Believe it or not, I am trying to help you here."

Cole's eyes harden, he does not appreciate the feeling that he's being laughed at. "Well, Vera Ordo, I don't know what you thought you were going to help with, but I don't need it."

"You're training, aren't you?" The Mandalorian shrugged. "I'm just trying to be helpful. A trainer can help put you on task."

He'd come here to clear his head because it was too early to muddle it with drink. He studied the woman, perhaps she could help. "I'd ask what you train, but I doubt I'd like the answer. How's your huttball?"

She perked her brow. "What? I'm a Mandalorian. I train to be a warrior." She let out a sigh. "As for your question though, I don't usually play so I can't answer that. I prefer actual combat over a game." She closed her eyes. "No offense, or anything."

"Good. I played my first game yesterday. Why don't we play a little one-on-one? If you can score a goal before I do, then I'll listen to whatever you've got to say about my running technique." Part of him hoped she declined before he made a complete idiot of himself, but it would distract him.

"I just told you that I don't play." She took a deep breath and looked away. "I don't have anything to prove to you anyways."

Cole just shrugged, "I guess you'll be leaving now."

Vera held up her hands as form of mock surrender. "Gotcha. But for the record, it's nothing personal. Just a bit of Mandalorian hospitality."

"None taken," and he gathers his things in preparation to hit the showers.

"Ret'urcye mhi," she said. She looked down to her left bicep, gave it a couple taps through the sleeve, and then walked off.

Strange girl, Cole thinks, and leaves the court.


/exit