Log Date:
	2/3/97

Log Cast:
	Shikh, Shenner
	(With brief appearances by Kuxli, Chantinelle, Silversand,
Dixon, Xerxes, Sabbath, Simone Drake, and Monk)

Log Intro:
	The young thief and musician Shenner has been disturbed by an
encounter with her employer, Grathix; pretending to be interested in
'managing' Shenner as a singer in order to maintain his cover in front
of the Horansi Kuxli, with whom Shenner'd been drinking at the time,
Grathix has informed Shenner that he has business taking him off
Etti IV for a few days. Alarmed by the prospect of being left alone
on the planet, tense as the atmosphere is with the battle fleets in
orbit and the Espos all over the place, Shenner has sought some
assurance that Grathix _will_ actually be back -- and has received it
not only by getting a week's worth of stay at the transients' hostel
paid for, but also by finding a new guitar waiting for her in her
room.
	Shenner hasn't known what to make of Grathix's largesse,
though. She cannot shake the feeling that he seems to be going out
of his way to make sure she won't go anywhere, even above and beyond
the original credits promised her for the job for which he'd
brought her to the planet in the first place -- the details of
which he's had yet to specify, too. But, unwilling to back out of
her pledge to do the job, Shenner's promised to sit tight for
another week, and in the meantime, has started killing time by renting
lesson holos to figure out how to actually _play_ the guitar her
employer has brought her... and continuing to walk the city, to
see what gossip an enterprising street rat and bard can come across.

----------
Shikh strolls out of the residential district, eyes slowly burning a swath 
  across his path with their warm intelligence.

As would be usual for any day on the streets of the capital city, beings of 
  all shapes and sizes scurry about their business. Not too remarkable at all 
  amidst the countless types of sentients that throng the planet, Shenner 
  lopes along, a carisak draped off one shoulder and a slim tube of leaf-green 
  leather, with a braided cord, draped off the other.

Shikh spots the blaze of Shenner's hair from across the avenue and looks over 
  his shoulder to check for any approaching speeders before jogging across. 
  Catching up, he says, "Where you headed now?"

Shenner turns at the hail. Intercepted, the human kid grins crookedly. "The 
  nearest source of food," comes the tenorish reply.

Shikh grins, "My treat?" and gestures toward a small but cozy-looking 
  restaurant. He scowls slightly, "Unless you have someplace else in mind?"

The young singer doesn't bat an eyelash. "Far be it from me to refuse free 
  food, and I'll try anything once. Lead on, pal..."

Shikh smiles and nods, ushering Shenner toward the entrance with a gentle arm 
  around her back.

Shenner's dark brows quirk at the touch, and the kid's gait speeds up _just_ a 
  bit, as though to try to elude contact, but Shenner's voice remains amiable 
  and the green eyes inquisitive as the restaurant is entered. "What gets 
  served in here?"

Shikh shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets, seeing Shenner's slight 
  discomfort at the touch. "Don't know... been wondering that since I got 
  here." he smiles, "I just hope it's not Hutt establishment..." he jokes.

The redheaded kid glances back at her -- his? -- companion, and snickers. 
  "What, do they eat their food live or something?" Striding broadly, Shenner 
  cuts a path into the place, looking for a place to sit, or whatever sentient 
  might be on duty to point out tables.

Shikh chuckles, looking after Shenner for a moment before striding strongly 
  in after her.

There is indeed a being on duty to direct patrons to available tables and 
  booths, and the insectoid chitters an initial greeting to the two humans as 
  Shenner and Shikh come into view. "Yeah, yeah, just tell us where to sit," 
  Shenner says amiably enough, and before the bug can finish pointing a 
  wriggling short limb off in an appropriate direction, is already moving past 
  it to the table in question, to claim a chair.

Shikh
        Before you stands an ordinary man about six feet tall, with no 
  outstanding traits to identify him. His auburn-brown hair is trimmed neatly 
  to a four or five inch length, and is mostly swept back, kept there by 
  constant maintenance, not weighed down with styling additives. Occasionally, 
  it liberates itself somewhat and rebelliously falls forward, only to be 
  raked back over the man's ears with large strong-appearing hands. His eyes 
  belie sensitivity, and shine a warm caramel brown with underlying 
  intelligence. He studies his surroundings with an expression that could only 
  be likened to amusement, or a naive freshness, much as you would note in a 
  child viewing something new for the first time.
        Looking away from his face and noting his attire, you would see a 
  well-fitted pair of blue jeans, with a white, collared, polo-style shirt 
  tucked in at the waist, three buttons serving as fasteners at the throat, 
  though only the bottom two are currently closed. A double holstered belt 
  circles his waist; a pair of sighted blasters with evident modifications 
  snugly kept at hand in easy reach, one at each hip.  A quilted black leather 
  vest completes the conservatively comfortable outfit, accentuating the young 
  man's medium-wide shoulders and triangular torso, the product of faithful 
  attention to his personal fitness.  Like most men his age, or more correctly 
  of his /era/, he wears a pair of black leather boots that rise to a 
  negotiable location somewhere between mid-calf and the knees.

Shenner(#9664Penc)
To most if not all passing glances, this individual could be summed up as 
  'young male human', and certainly the walk, stance, and mannerisms seem like 
  those a brash young man would have. The short, spiky cap of dark red hair, 
  with a brief little comma of a forelock over the left side of the brow, is 
  masculine in look, as is the lean, angular build and tallish height. But if 
  this is indeed a human male, it is one with uncommonly delicate features, 
  dominated by large, luminous, and sharply intelligent green eyes... and a 
  closer regard may well reveal to the observer that this human's voice is a 
  shade _too_ high to truly be a young man's tenor -- in fact, it sounds more 
  like a young woman's contralto.
This human is clad in blandly unobtrusive garb, the kind you might expect any 
  common laborer or traveller to have on: a simple white tunic with a 
  turned-up collar; a heavy, padded vest of dark grey, with multiple pockets; 
  breeches of a slate-blue hue, tucked into scuffed but serviceable calf-high 
  boots of a neutral tan suede. Over all of this is worn an overlarge brown 
  flight jacket, big enough that it tends to obscure the utility belt at her 
  waist -- and anything she might have stashed in it.
She sees cordial enough, but wary and alert.

Shikh raises a brow at Shenners back, then scowls slightly, a contemplative 
  look on his face. He shrugs, then follows him/her to the indicated table, 
  sitting across from the mysterious youth.

"So," says the kid cheerily, "found a job yet?"

Shikh shakes his head, "Nothing promising, no... you?" he asks interestedly, 
  sipping his water.

Shenner lets out a low, sardonic chuckle, idly tapping slim pale fingertips 
  against the tabletop, beating out a little rhythm. "Welllll... guy found me 
  saying some kind of bilge about hearing me sing in the Dome and wanting to 
  'manage' me... I'll believe it when it happens."

Shikh smiles and nods politely, puzzlement in his eyes. "Um... where'd you 
  learn to sing like that?" he blurts out, in an effort to keep Shenner 
  talking.

The redhead takes up his -- her? -- water glass, gulps down a mouthful of it 
  as if desperately appreciative of fresh water, then chuckles. "Learn, 
  schmearn, I just sing. What, you think somebody trained me or something?"

Shikh splutters, "I... er, I mean... I guess I did..." he shrugs in apology, 
  "Sorry, just figured that was how it went..." he leans down peering up into 
  Shenner's eyes, "Forgive me?" he grins goofily.

Shenner laughs again, low and rich, and waves a dismissing hand at you. "Don't 
  worry about it, pal. I'm still not used to people actually _listening_ to 
  me."

Shikh smiles appreciatively, "Same here... not used to having someone answer 
  questions either, and since I don't have much to say for myself, that's about 
  all I /can/ do to carry a conversation."

"Well," drawls the kid, "any self-respecting wannabe bard ought to be able to 
  chatter. I'd be happy to enlighten you on the various flavors of sand on 
  Tatooine..."

Shikh grins, but shakes his head, "Sounds fascinating, but no... I'd rather 
  hear about you."
Shikh shrugs, "I mean I told you all about my love life, er... well, you 
  didn't ask, "He notes.

Shenner bursts into laughter again, and parries, "Well, fella, I ain't exactly 
  got a love life to compare notes with you on."

Shikh nods, "Not necessarily love... I just meant that I told you something 
  personal, for what it's worth..." he mutters in explanation.

Shenner's green gaze glitters cannily. "Okay, whaddya wanna know?"

Shikh shrugs, "I... don't know... you're the bard," he grins, "tell me a story 
  about Shenner."

At that, the redhead's eyebrows go up, and there comes another throaty 
  chuckle. "You're gettin' it wrong. Bards aren't supposed to tell their _own_ 
  stories, pal...." Is the kid evading the question, or simply amused?

Shikh cocks his head, "I really don't know what to make of you, Shenner..." 
  with that he looks over to the approaching waiter, "Did you figure out what 
  you want yet, Shen?"

Shenner casts a casual green glance at the menu, and grins lopsidedly. "You're 
  buyin', you order. Food's food to me."

Shikh frowns a bit, then quickly pulls up a menu, glancing over it quickly. "I 
  was hoping you'd give me a suggestion..." he murmurs asthe waiter steps up 
  to the table, ready to take the order.

Shenner says blandly, "I'm a street rat, Shikh, not a gourmand; I do good to 
  get mystery meat, much less real." The kid smiles, though. "Surprise me. 
  Maybe I'll learn something."

Shikh nods silenty, scanning the menu. "Well, here's an oldie but goodie... 
  from my homeworld." He smiles charismatically and looks to the waiter, "Two 
  nerf steaks, medium well done, please." The waiter nods and moves off at an 
  embarassedshrug from Shikh for ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. "I 
  hope youlike spicy food, it's aCorellian dish..." he murmurs, swirling his 
  water glass.

The kid suddenly blinks. "You're a Corellian?"

Shikh nods, "Yeah, why else would I stop off at that trader's hole on my way 
  back in from the Rim? I was born there, lived my first ten years or so 
  there..." he explains.

Something almost imperceptibly hardens in the singer's eyes. Shenner's voice 
  stays amiably bland, but that hardness lingers there behind the green gaze 
  as the kid rolls slim shoulders in a shrug. "Never been to Corellia."

Shikh raises an eyebrow, "No? It's worth the trip, just wasn't my kind of 
  place..." he shrugs. Shikh peers into Shenner's eyes again, "You alright? 
  What did I say?"

Shenner resumes smiling, but a bit more narrowly than before, and shakes that 
  dark red head. "Nothin' wrong, pal. So what's a nerf?"

Shikh cocks his head strangely, then raises his eyebrows as if dismissing a 
  thought. "Nerf? It's an animal native to Corellia, used for as much for its 
  fur as its meat," he explains, then sips his water. "They're all over the 
  place there, fields of 'em... it's quite a sight."

The singer slouches back in 'his' (her?) chair, occasionally sipping at the 
  water, lean pale features arranged into guilelessness. "Never seen fields 
  either, really. Unless you count fields of sand. Or ice."

Shikh cocks his head, "I think I know what you're getting at..." he grins.

Shenner sallies back, "Just that I'm a wet-behind-the-ears street rat." The 
  kid slugs down water. "But I'm workin' on gettin' dryer."

Shikh raises a brow, "Tat certainly isn't the place to dry out... if anything 
  you'd get wetter sweating yerself to death..." he sips his drink, "Didn't 
  you mention Tat last night?" he questions, his countenance dark with 
  contemplation.

Shenner shrugs airily. "Probably. That was the last place I was at."

Kuxli comes out of the Free-Flight Dance Dome.
Kuxli has arrived.
Kuxli pads out from the dance dome, his perked up as he begins to head in the 
  direction of the residential avenue, his tail swaying behind him.
Kuxli moves east onto a wide avenue.
Kuxli has left.

Shikh nods, "What'd you do htere?"

The kid smiles thinly. "Survived."

Shikh grins and shakes his head slightly, "Fine, have it your way..." He 
  smiles, "Like I said, tell me a story then... seems I can't hit on the right 
  questions."

Shenner, perhaps casually and perhaps evasively, sweeps a look about the 
  restaurant, saying, "Well, I suppose I could make a song about it someday, 
  and call it, "Survival of the Fittest, or, Hells, That Jawa Was a Crook 
  Anyway"." The singer's pale mouth makes a smirk, then, as the kid looks back 
  across the table and says bluntly, "I starved on Tatooine, mostly. I don't 
  miss it."

Shikh nods, "I'll bet. So..." he trails off, raising a brow to Shenner, 
  "Anything you'd like to ask me?" he shrugs.

Chantinelle comes along the road to the southeast.
Chantinelle has arrived.
Chantinelle leaves the imp, beiing somehow stressed.
Chantinelle moves through the District into the Spaceport to the west.
Chantinelle has left.
Chantinelle comes through the District from the direction of the spaceport.
Chantinelle has arrived.
Chantinelle makes her way into the Free-Flight Dance Dome.
Chantinelle has left.

Shenner, still slouched in his (her?) chair, chuckles dryly. "Dunno. Anything 
  you're itchin' to tell?"

Shikh shakes his head, eyes mysterious, water held easily in his large grip, 
  "Not especially... anything you'd like to admit to?" he asks, a 
  conspiratorial grin on his face.

"I only _fake_ knowing how to play the guitar," Shenner replies promptly.

Shikh cocks his head and chuckles playfully, "That all?" he grins, eyes 
  dulling as doubt sets in.

Shenner doesn't bat an eyelash. "I suppose I could tell you I snore, but I 
  ain't never heard myself sleep, pal." The kid's green gaze studies you, 
  expectantly. "They grow 'em all curious like you on Corellia, or you just 
  got an individual interest in singing street rats?"

Shikh frowns, then stammers, "I... er." He blushes, "I feel really wierd 
  admitting this..." he murmurs, looking around the restaurant to see if 
  anyone is nearby.

Shikh sighs, thn looks down at teh tabletop, murmuring quietly, "When I first 
  saw you, I thought you were a woman..." He chuckles abashedly, "Funny, huh?"

Silversand comes into the District from the east.
Silversand has arrived.
Silversand makes his way into the Free-Flight Dance Dome.
Silversand has left.

"I get that a lot," the singer says blithely. "Skinny kid like me. Y'know."

Shikh purses his lips to one side and nods, almost disappointedly, "I guess... 
  still feel funny about it though..." he admits quietly.

Shenner rolls a shoulder in a casual shrug. "I'd make a lousy woman anyway," 
  the kid says cheerily, tossing a wave down at 'his' own thin form. "Ain't 
  exactly built to make a man swoon, after all."

Shikh shrugs, and taps his temple, "It's what's here and here that counts..." 
  he munmbles, moving his hand down over his heart.
Shikh snuffs, "But what do I know?" he chuckles bitterly.

Shenner's eyebrows crinkle a bit, as the kid studies the man across the table. 
  The food finally arrives, then, providing a distraction, and Shenner looks 
  up with what can only be the look of someone used to deprivation and still 
  surprised and pleased by hot, fresh food to eat.

Shikh nods, "eat... enjoy it..." He rests his elbow on the table and settles 
  his chin on his fist glumly, watching Shenner eat.

Shenner doesn't need to be told twice. As the kid starts a thorough 
  exploration of nerf steak, though, the green eyes flick back to the 
  Corellian, and Shenner observes between swallows, "I'd be lousy in a romance 
  anyway, pal. Never been much for all that sweetness and light stuff."

Shikh narrows his eyes and cocks his head, "Huh? What are you talkin' about?" 
  He shakes his head, his earlier illusions being shattered again by Shenner's 
  words. "Now I'm really confused..." he mutters, stabbing his steak 
  hungerlessly with his fork and pushing it around the plate.

Shenner looks up, blinks, then says mildly, "Just trying to help, pal." The 
  kid half-smiles. "You said you were lonely; better not to get confused about 
  skinny street rats like me."

Shikh shakes his head, "No, course not..." he grins, "I'm not the type who 
  likes kids that way..." he jokes, then winces a bit, "That's really gross... 
  sorry."

Shenner vigorously slices nerf meat into smaller bits, spears them and inhales 
  them, one after another. "Clearly I need more protein." This remark is 
  followed by a healthy swig of more water, to counteract the spicings, before 
  Shenner smirkles, lopsidedly. "Don't worry, I don't squick all that easy."

Shikh nods, "That's good... I have a tendency to stick my foot in my mouth 
  like that sometimes..." he explains, starting to cut his way into a bite of 
  nerf steak, now beginning to get cold.

Dixon heads through crowds and into the Government District to the southeast.
Dixon has left.

Shenner, for a skinny kid, apparently has a prodigious appetite. Shen's eating 
  habits are somewhat graceless and unrefined, though the redhead isn't 
  completely uncouth either -- either way, it's clear Shenner is unfamiliar 
  with the higher niceties of table manners. "Thought Corellians had the 
  silverest tongues in the galaxy," the singer says glibly.

Shikh shrugs, taking a bite. He chews slowly, savoring the flavor of the meat 
  and talks between bites, "Not all..." Shikh swallows, then, "We can't all be 
  Solo's..." he explains, flashing a grin. "I think I have my fair share of 
  charm though, in my own way..." he chuckles, then goes back to his meal.

Shenner gives that last comment an obliging chuckle, and the kid promises, 
  "Any sweet young things I run into, I'll toss 'em your way." Then, Shenner 
  quirks one dark eyebrow. "'Be Solos'?"

Shikh nods, chewing then swallowing his bite, "Yeah, Solo's known for his 
  silvertongue, ain't he?"

Shenner spreads slender hands, palms up, green eyes innocently wide. "You tell 
  me; I don't know who you're talking about...?"

Shikh knits his brow together, "Never heard of Han Solo?" then he snaps his 
  fingers, "Sorry, that was Kuxli last night... my mistake." He cuts off 
  another bite of steak.

Shenner says blandly, "Should I've heard of him?"

Shikh shrugs, "If you were on Tat anytime in the past cuple years, I would say 
  yes... he's one of the ones who took down Jabba."

"That a fact?" replies Shenner, apparently intrigued, though perhaps a trifle 
  confused. "And Jabba would be...?"

Shikh shakes his head, "Don't worry about it... no one important, anymore..." 
  he chuckles a bit at this and goes back to eating.

Shenner smirks, but bright-eyed. "Tatooine's the least of my worries, that's 
  for damned sure. Ain't ever going back. Had enough of desert worlds to last 
  me a lifetime."

Shikh chuckles, "Tat could do that to you, so I've heard..." he continues 
  eating, seeing as how Shenner is kind of on a roll with the talking now.

Shenner waves 'his' water glass expansively; for all the redhead's remarks on 
  Corellian glibness, this singer seems to make an art of it as well. "Dried 
  up my last flute past playability, and desert air ain't all that fun to 
  sing in, either."

Shikh nods, "Bet it's hell on the vocal cords..." he sympathizes, sipping his 
  water.

Shenner takes down another healthy dose of the water, and bobs that dark red 
  hair. "Sore throat, pal, like you wouldn't believe. Not like I got to sing 
  much, or at least not like anybody would hear, but I tried to keep in 
  practice." Shenner smirks. "Got me a few credits busking, but that was about 
  it...."

Shikh nods, "Good thing you never played the Hutt's engagements... he killed 
  the ones he wasn't amused with."
Shikh adds with a smile, "Would've been my loss."

The redheaded kid grins broadly. "You only heard me sing what, a coupla 
  verses? You gonna tell me you know a stellar voice when you hear one, or you 
  just enjoy my scintillating presence?"

Shikh nods, chewing a large mouthful... he swallows it down with a drink of 
  water, then answers, "Yes... both." He smiles warmly, "ou're like the kid 
  brother I never had..."

Shenner gives 'his' table companion a quizzical smile. "Well, shucks," the 
  redhead drawls, sounding amused. "That make me an honorary Corellian?"

Shikh chuckles, painfully swallowing a sip of water. Pounding his chest 
  wincingly, he nods, "Sure, if that's what you want..." he offers, then takes 
  another drink to soothe his throat.

Shenner snorts, then sallies, "What say we make you an honorary Belsavan 
  instead. Can't let the galaxy think Corellia has the monopoly on wit, 
  wisdom, and charm."

Shikh raisesa brow, "Belsavan? That where you're from?"

"Belsavis," the kid corrects blandly, finishing off the last of 'his' nerf 
  steak.

Shikh nods, polishing off his steak as well, "eah, that's what I meant... 
  what's it like htere?"

The young musician shrugs again, broadcasting indifference. "Domed cities. Ice 
  fields. Nasty atmosphere."

Shikh cringes, "Yuck... how long did you stay there?"

Calmly, Shenner replies, "As long as it took me to grow up and get the hark 
  offworld."

Shikh nods, recalling, "The age of censent, again, huh?" He mops up the last 
  of the steak juice with a small roll.

Something, though, akin to that earlier hardness in the kid's eyes at the 
  first mention of Corellia in this conversation, flickers across Shenner's 
  face. "Something like that," the redhead replies.

Shikh frowns, "I mess up again?" he asks, holding the half-bitten roll over 
  the plate, dripping meat juice.

Shenner gives another narrow smile. "Let's just say I don't miss Belsavis, 
  either."

Shikh nods slowly, "Alright..." azing carefully at Shenner over his last bite 
  of roll. He looks around for the waiter, "Dessert, Shen?" he offers.

Without so much as a pause for breath, Shenner says blithely, "What do they 
  call dessert on Corellia, then?"

Shikh shrugs, "Dunno, never really ate dessert when I was a kid... saved that 
  for when I grew up, I guess."

Shenner's green eyes glint. "Okay, 'brother', you did alright with the nerf 
  steak, let's see whatcha do with dessert."

Shikh smiles, accepting the challenge, "OK..." he gestures the waiter over. 
  "May I see the menu again, sir?"
Shikh thinks as the waiter goes off to retrieve a menu, "You like fruit, Shen? 
  Berries?"

Shenner replies cheerily, "I'll try anything once."

Shikh nods and gestures for the waiter to keep the menu as he returns, "Sorry, 
  we decided while you were gone. Alderaanian berry parfaits, please... two of 
  'em."
Shikh turns back to Shenner and smiles, "You should like this, I think..."

Shenner's eyebrows go up. "How do you get berries off a planet that's not 
  there anymore?"

Shikh tsks, "So you aren't as uneducated as you try to pass yourself off to 
  be." He smiles, "They're grown hydroponically, and prepared according to the 
  traditional recipe... that's all."

With a snort, the kid says, "Educated, schmeduated, even street rats catch news 
  holos ever so often. Singing street rats sometimes catch songs."

Shikh nods, eyes growing distant, "Bet you could sing quite a tune about that 
  disaster..." he frowns."

Shenner glances idly off in the direction the waiter went, then shrugs 
  laconically, drawling, "Haven't seen too many folks who want songs about 
  Alderaan here."

Shikh looks around, out toward the street, "Guess not..." he lowers his head, 
  "Am I 'right' in coming here for work, Shen?"

Shenner blinks, apparently surprised. "You're askin' me?""

Shikh shrugs, "I... I guess not. Just your Alderaan comment set me 
  thinking..." he trails off, swirling what's left of his water.

Xerxes comes out of the Free-Flight Dance Dome.
Xerxes has arrived.

Shikh and Shen are in a restaurant off the main avenue.

Xerxes steps out of the Dance Dome, lifting the collar of his coat before 
  taking a bench out in the square. He takes a deep breath, apparently 
  enjoying the fresh air.

Within that same restaurant, Shenner says amiably, "Well, pal, I'll tell yah, 
  I don't pretend to know squat about right and wrong; I ain't no clergybeing. 
  Far's I'm concerned, peons like me do best to keep their heads down and let 
  politicians and mucketymucks and suchlike worry about that kind of thing."

Sabbath comes along the road to the southeast.
Sabbath has arrived.
Sabbath moves through the District into the Spaceport to the west.
Sabbath has left.

Shikh nods, staring into his glass, at a small crumb floating on the surface, 
  "I'm just not sure I'm on steady ground all the time, that's all. Afraid I 
  might be swallowed up by the waves," he observes, swishing the water and 
  seeing how the crumb is tossed about, then, laden with moisture, sinks.

Keeping an eye out for the waiter and the desserts, Shenner shrugs. "Well, if 
  you want my opinion, this probably ain't the best of worlds to do 
  soul-searching on, but it'll probably at least get you some credits to get 
  to a better one."

Shikh muses, "Creds could be nice..." He looks up as the waiter arrives, 
  desserts in hand. He accepts them with a smile, and sends the waiter off 
  with the money to pay the check. Shikh turns back to the table and slides 
  one of the berry desserts across to Shen, "Here ya go... tell me what you 
  think." He looks on with a smile

Shenner leans forward to poke at the confection experimentally. After a bite 
  or two the musician puts forth a lopsided smile of 'his' own, inclines that 
  dark red head with a graciousness at odds with most of 'his' unrefined 
  manner, and proclaims, "Yum."

Shikh grins at Shenner's improved manners, "I'm glad... that makes the price 
  worth it then..." He takes up his own portion and beginsto nibble at small 
  bites absently.

Sabbath comes through the District from the direction of the spaceport.
Sabbath has arrived.
Sabbath heads through crowds and into the Government District to the southeast.
Sabbath has left.

"And you tell me Corellians aren't all glib?" the kid replies, but settles 
  down into the dessert with as much if not more vigor than 'he' had displayed 
  with the nerf steak.

Shikh grins, mouth full of berries. He chews and swallows, then answers, "How 
  would I know? I'm an honorary Belsavan, remember?" he prods.

At that, the redheaded kid laughs loudly, a sound that carries well, 
  suggesting that this slip of a youngster knows, indeed, how to project the 
  voice.

Shikh's eyes open wide, "Wah! You've got a mouth on you, kid... keep it 
  down..." he urges, a gleam of a smile in his eyes.

"What bard was ever quiet?" Shenner rejoins. Dessert downed, the kid grins, 
  and goes on, "Look, Shikh... thanks for the food. I gotta get back to my 
  hostel, though, I got studying to do. Music holos. See you later?"

Shikh smiles, crossing his arms over his chest, "Sure thing, Shen. Think I'll 
  stick around here for a while... catch you later."

Simone_Drake comes into the District from the east.
Simone_Drake has arrived.

Duke comes into the District from the east.
Duke has arrived.

Shenner rises, tosses off a half-salute, half-wave, and gets up from the table 
  in the restaurant, leaving Shikh to the rest of his dessert.

Simone_Drake steps into the area briskly, four Espo guards flanking her move. 
  A rather large canine walks beside her as she heads southeast.

Shenner exits the eatery, green eyes glancing idly about... widening a bit at 
  the clearly authoritative-looking woman and guards visible out on the 
  street. But the redheaded kid moves on, quickly vanishing into the crowd.

----------
Log Interlude:

	_Karkin' great,_ Shenner thought as she tried to keep herself from
charging out of the restaurant as fast as her long legs could take her.
_He's a Corellian. That's all I need! Gonna get me in trouble for sure,
I can smell it coming...._
	She didn't like the way her hands were shaking, as she hit the
streets outside. Shikh _seemed_ nice enough, and Shenner grudgingly
admitted to herself that he certainly wasn't bad to look at -- but that
only reminded her more of the other Corellian, the one she'd prefer to
wipe straight out of her head if she could. _He_ had been nice enough
at first, and handsome -- and had had no compunctions about leaving
her helpless in what was arguably one of the nastiest if not _the_
nastiest city in the galaxy. _And this Solo guy's a Corellian, too, huh?
No wonder the place stinks of trouble...._
	Hells, for all she knew, her own father had probably been a
Corellian. _It'd probably explain why Mom never talked about him._
	As she stalked off from the eatery, Shenner's black musings
received a momentary distraction at the sight of a cadre of guards
flanking a woman and a dog out on the street before her. Jerked out
of her snide, black reverie, Shenner realized blankly that the woman
was her target.
	Simone Drake.
	And she didn't have a couple of 'heavies', she had four.
Four Espos who looked like they meant business, and who, Shenner thought
warily, were probably orders of magnitude harder to sneak past than
Jawas....
	Instincts she'd developed on the streets of Plawal and honed on
the streets of Mos Eisley told her to vanish immediately, and Shenner
did. But those same instincts warned her that there was more to Drake
than Grathix had told her, and as soon as she comfortably could, Shen
hotfooted it for the same local library she'd been using to rent the
music lesson holos.
	Once there, it didn't take long to get into the computer systems,
to punch up the name "Simone Drake," and to get by way of reward the
information available to the general public that went along with that
name: information that, in several quick jabs, made Shenner reel as
though she'd been socked repeatedly in the gut.
	A news holo reported a thwarted kidnapping attempt on Drake,
on some space station somewhere, called GDI.
	Another holo reported a thwarted assasination attempt on Drake's
life -- an attempted foiled when the young aide of another CSA official,
Sean Dillon, ripped the throat out of the Sithkassi attacker.
	_Bright suns, Kuxli... that was Kux, he ripped the throat out
of a Sithkassi, that crazy guy with the cigarra said, and Kux said
too... bloody karkin' hells...._
	Unsurprisingly, the profile on Drake reported that due to
these earlier incidents, the woman was near-obsessed with personal
security... but that fact barely registered in Shenner's notice,
almost completely overshadowed by the mention of Simone Drake's rank.
	The woman was Prex of the Corporate Sector Authority.
	_Bright suns!_ That curse was the only one of Shenner's lexicon
of curses she actually breathed, even in her thoughts; the rest of
her mind was occupied with another leaden weight of dread, to go
along with the ones that'd already built up in her gut at the discovery
of the Espos on this world and the battle fleets that orbitted it.
	As calmly as she could manage, Shenner logged out of the library's
computer system, and avoided the desk clerk from whom she'd been checking
out the music lesson holos; here and now, Shenner was seized with the
desire to run, to hide, and to not let anybody see her if she could help
it. Flute-sheath and carisak in hand, the young thief slipped back out
into the streets of the city, and aimed for the one place she'd come
across that let her have some semblance of peace and quiet to think in:
the Memorial Park.
	Among the park's tree-lined avenues, Shenner quickly lost herself,
thoughts whirling as she automatically slipped into her most unobtrusive
gait to avoid catching Espo eyes. _What the kark has Grathix gotten
me into?! The woman's leader of this whole planet -- no way, no karkin'
way he wants me to just take her wallet!_
	When she reached a bench somewhere in the back of the park,
hidden from most casual view, Shenner collapsed upon it, hugged herself,
and struggled to regain her composure. But even as she sat, her
memory, sharpened by years of learning to take note of anything and
anyone that might prove dangerous and to be able to recollect it --
or them -- later, provided her with a sharp remembrance of the Horansi
Kuxli's voice:

	"Yup.. used to be friends with her to.. but well, she just
	wasn't the same after what happened on GDI, her gettin kidnapped
	by some ex-imperial freak.."

	And the voice of the man Giles saying:

	 "You're that creature what ripped the Sithkassi's throat out..
	My hats off old man. Not that it's much of a compliment, Sneer
	was about as bright as a drunken Yvolshi lizard."

	And the voice of the Corellian -- her mind gibbered across Shikh's
image without providing her his name:

	"I really don't know, Kuxli... I planned a small get together 
	for my new neighbors, sent out invitations to everyone on the
	street, but no one came....except for one person...so
	beautiful, but she seemed very cold. She must care, or 
	she wouldn't have come, but why is she so frigid?"

	What was Kuxli doing defending galactic leaders from getting
their throats ripped out?
	What was the Corellian doing inviting galactic leaders to a
housewarming -- and being infatuated with them, _while_ claiming not
to have a job?
	And, most disturbingly of all, did they know what _she_, Shenner,
was doing here? (And what _was_ she doing here? What kind of mysterious
job involved a nobody pickpocket from Belsavis 'frobbing a shot' at a
woman in charge of not only a planet, but an entire sector of the
galaxy?)
	It was all Shenner could do to keep herself calm, to keep from
charging back into the streets of the city, hunting down Grathix,
and demanding of him, loudly and publically, to get her off the planet
right there and right then. _Damn it... calm down, can't do a karkin'
thing in this state._
	With a monumental effort, she forced herself to pull out her
flute, to take a dubious kind of refuge in the persona she'd been crafting
over the last week or so of street musician making a simple living
trading a few songs for a few credits.... and to play until her pulse
settled down to something resembling normal....

----------
Monk comes into the park from the west.
Monk has arrived.
Monk looks at you for a moment.
Monk bares his teeth menacingly at the whimpy human
Monk growls
Monk says, "RRRROOOOOAAAAARRRRR!!!!!!!"

One of the few humans in the area is a lean-redheaded kid, parked crosslegged 
  on a bench, and playing a wooden flute. The sound of the roar does make the 
  kid look up, eyebrows quirking, the flutesong trailing off.

Monk spits at the little human

Shikh comes into the park from the west.
Shikh has arrived.

Monk growls
Monk spits at shikh

Shikh strolls easily into the park, thumbs hooked in his pockets.

Monk
Monk is an unusally large wookiee. He stands at 7 feet 8 inches and weighs 
  close 400lbs. He is a super hunk, buffed and beautiful. His hair is a 
  greyish blue and is in dredlocks. His apparent excessive use of drugs has 
  turned his one remaining eye green. He wears a red patch over his left eye. 
  He wields a bowcaster and heavy assault armor. He seems to have a very bad 
  temper and looks extremely savage and won't hesitate to rip your arms and 
  legs off. But all around, he is a very nice and lovable hermaphrodite.

Monk waves his arms angrily about

Shikh gives Monk asidelong glance after easily dodging the sputum. He frowns 
  and continues to walk at his unhurried pace.

Monk follows shikh, repeatedly spitting and growling at him

The redheaded human kid studies the big spitting creature, looks evidently 
  unperturbed -- perhaps getting spat at is not particularly surprising, for 
  this human. The kid doesn't lower the flute, though, and merely keeps 
  playing, the song airy, sweet. Next to the kid, on the bench, is a silken 
  cloth spread out, on which glint a few credits.

Monk attempts to grab the little kids flute

Shikh's gaze follows the aggressive creature. He frowns again and shakes his 
  head, eyes full of concern for the blaze-topped child.

The lunge of the big furry being catches the redheaded human's attention; 
  green eyes snap up, and the slim hands fasten harder on the wooden flute. 
  The human speaks, eyes narrowing, "You got a problem, pal?"

Monk growls fiercly at the little boy

Shikh silently positions himself in line of view where the kid can see him, 
  but stays behind Monk's area of attention.

Monk snarls at shikh

Shikh raises an sculpted brow, then leans against a tree, crossing his arms as 
  he looks over the fountain

Shenner doesn't bat an eyelash. If the human understands the meaning of the 
  growl, it's not clear; the kid's only response is to shrug, and say flatly, 
  "I got a permit to busk, big guy. You got a problem with that, take it up 
  with the Espos."

Monk slaps the branches of a near by tree
Monk has disconnected.

Shenner's green gaze flicks once, perhaps taking in the lingering presence of 
  the other human, perhaps not. Slim shoulders shrug, and the kid, evidently 
  unperturbed by the presence of a snarling Wookie, settles down to run 
  through finger exercises on the wooden flute.
Shenner keeps playing those finger exercises, slowly, breathily, and barely 
  audible, until the angry creature apparently decides to give up whatever 
  goal of human-baiting it might have had and moves off out of sight and 
  earshot. Only then does Shenner slide a tense glance off after it.

Shikh walks over to the bench where Shenner sits and flips a credit onto the 
  silken fabric. "Sorry bout that... I got him riled up earlier... seems I was 
  standing around being TOO quiet..." he chuckles.

Shenner looks up, smiles thinly across the flute's mouthhole, and huhs, a 
  sound that echoes down through 'his' instrument. "Clearly not a music 
  lover." Green eyes flick to the flipped credit, and the youngster bobs that 
  dark red head by way of acknowledgement and thanks. "Got your choice of a 
  song, pal."

Xerxes comes into the park from the west.
Xerxes has arrived.
Xerxes leaves the park to the west.
Xerxes has left.

Shikh shakes his head, "Your choice... I'm no conessueir of music, much as 
  you're no master of ettiquette and food, or so you say..." He smiles, "That 
  was for luck..." he points to the credit

Shenner flicks a one-sided smile across the flute's mouth-hole, then nods, and 
  begins to play. This time, what the flute produces is a song that begins 
  simply enough, a few spatterings of notes that twitter into the air, before 
  sliding after eight measures into a sprightly melody.

Monk has connected.
Monk smiles at shenner
Monk leaves the park to the west.
Monk has left.

Shikh sighs as the music begins, then closes his eyes and lifts his head up 
  toward the stars overhead. He clasps his hands together behind his back and 
  nods in time with the tune.

Shenner plays, the flute's perky melody chasing itself around a bit, almost 
  like avians in the park's trees; although the rise and fall of notes isn't 
  exactly perfect, it's close enough to strongly suggest Shenner's been 
  spending some time sitting here in this place, trying to translate the 
  sounds of life forms into music.

Shikh opens his eyes and slides onto the bench beside Shenner. He slumps down 
  and leans back, closing his eyes gain. He folds his hands on his lap, 
  letting the music enhance the natural beauty of the setting.

The redheaded kid keeps playing a bit, improvising on the bird-flutter tune, 
  changing keys every so often, modulating up and down.

Shenner finally trails off to a close, breath falling into silence as lean 
  fingers on the flute's holes stretch slowly, one at a time, in sequence.

Shikh's head rolls onto his shoulder, he whispers, "That's so nice... glad I 
  let you choose..." His warm brown eyes are closed, but the rest of his 
  expression is open, listening, taking in Shen's music.

Shenner gives a throaty laugh. "Glad to have an audience that doesn't snarl."

Shikh flutters his eyes open, the moment passed. He chuckles, "Yeah... I'll 
  bet."

Shenner stretches, putting out 'his' right arm with the palm facing out, and 
  slowly rotates it; then, the kid does the same with the other, transferring 
  the flute from hand to hand. "Been playing a while," the redhead explains. 
  "Quiet night, except for Sunny wandering through here and expressing his 
  eloquent opinion."

Shikh nods, "I... I don't know how to describe that music... it was... it WAS 
  the park..." he shrugs, "That's the best I can do."
Shikh muses to himself, "Amazing..."

Shenner smiles crookedly. "It's a good flute. Darned well better be, I paid 
  ninety-five credits for it."

Shikh shakes his head, "The instrument doesn't make the music, the player 
  does."

Shenner gives a soft, faint chuckle, letting it trill a bit as 'he' runs 
  fingertips along the flute. "Good. Nicest place I've found here in this 
  city, even if they won't let me sit on the grass. Needed a song."

Shikh nods, "You found one, Shen... congratulations."

Shenner flicks a smile at 'his' listener. "It's somethin'," the kid murmurs, 
  apparently content; then, Shenner blows casually through a few scales, 
  stepping in thirds up and down the flute's range.

Shikh smiles contently, retrieving another credit from his pocket. He tosses 
  it onto the silk again, "Let's try that lastone again..." he suggests. 
  Smiling at Shenner warmly.

Shenner quirks a brow, inclines 'his' head, and settles into imitiating avians 
  again. The melody is not quite the same... when is live birdsong ever the 
  same, twice in a row?... but the spirit is similar, as the lively notes go 
  twittering into the evening air.

Shikh is taken with the song again, eyes falling closed. He slides down and 
  rests his head on the back of the bench.

Shenner plays for a time longer, more twitterings of pseudo-birdsong that 
  solicit an occasional startled chirp from deep in stands of trees within the 
  park.

Shikh sighs, his breath falling into a regular rhythm. He eases deeper into 
  the bech , body relaxing of its own accord.

Unperturbed, Shenner keeps playing for a while, sliding from bird imitations 
  into longer and liquider melody. Water, perhaps, the sounds of flowing 
  water, rather than the chirps of tiny avians, come out of the flute now.

Shikh's head gradually falls onto Shen's shoulder, after a few episodes of 
  falling and jolting back to semi-wakefulness. His easy breaths wash warm on 
  Shen's neck.

As her listener seems to drift off into slumber, Shenner doesn't seem bothered 
  -- but when Shikh slumps along the bench, head nudging her shoulder, the kid 
  blinks, freezing, green gaze sliding down and to the left where the young 
  man's now sitting. The flute remains held up, out and to the right.

Shikh shifts slightly in his sleep, lips nestled against Shen's neck, parted 
  slightly.

Shenner's mouth tautens behind the flute, and her green eyes flicker with 
  something that looks suspiciously like fear. With an effort, the kid sucks 
  in a breath, then moves the flute slightly away, and hisses down at the 
  sleeper, "Shikh. Yo, Shikh."

Shikh stirs, and his eyes flutter open, tickling Shen's neck. "Hmm? Oh Stang! 
  I'm sorry..." he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

Shenner remains tensely poised there, hands clenching the flute a bit, but as 
  the young Corellian sits up, the kid smiles crookedly. "Maybe you better go 
  crash, pal, you look beat."

Shikh blinks at Shen, "Yeah... good idea." He stands and brushes his hand 
  through his hair, "Er... sorry, again..." he mumbles.

Shenner's stance subtly relaxes, and the kid shrugs, languidly, crooked grin 
  returning. "Don't worry about it," the tenorish voice says easily enough.

Shikh nods wearily, "Yeah, ok..." He shambles off toward the residential zone, 
  disappearing down the darkene path, his tall form loosing all detail and 
  looking much like one of the trees.

Only when the Corellian is out of sight does Shenner slump back against the 
  bench, shuddering. _Bright suns, that was close..._

[End log.]