Log Date:
	5/3/97, 5/5/97, 5/6/97, 5/7/97, 5/8/97, 5/9/97, 5/10/97, 5/11/97

Log Cast:
	Paul Nighman, Shenneret Veery, Randal (NPC), Trace (NPC)

Log Intro:
	Paul has startled Shenner yet again by blowing off an appointment
with his father at the local University, in favor of introducing her to
Dream -- the Dreaming Tree -- a tree that he'd loved as a boy. They talk
for a while in that tree's branches; they horse around as well, and then
kiss, though Paul takes exquisite care not to rush Shenner into anything
that makes her too nervous. After a time they finally, reluctantly,
decide to return to the house....

----------
As they near the house, Paul's expression might be seen to falter slightly, as 
  he considers what might possibly await them this evening. He almost hates to 
  bring Shen back to this place of disfunction, concerned that it will spoil 
  their day. As the house comes into sight, Paul guesses from the stillness 
  and darkness of the interior that his father has not yet returned from the 
  University. Idly swinging their hands again he inquires, "Hey, what do you 
  say to a yummy home cooked meal?" as an idea occurs to him.

Shenner grins and laughs a bit. "I don't ever turn down free food, remember?" 
  she teases. "You better cook, though, 'cause I don't know nothin' about 
  it..."

Giving her a sidelong glance, he chuckles deeply. "Okay, let's make a deal - 
  I'll send you out to pick up the groceries while I clean up and prepare the 
  kitchen and deal with a few ... things." He smiles to remove suspicion as to 
  what the -things- might be, like one cantankerous old man with an axe to 
  grind. Then I'll cook and you can eat ... sound fair?"

"Well, if you tell me where to go and what to get..." Shenner shrugs a bit, 
  but is still smiling, sounding pleased for an opportunity to help.

Paul nods and as they reach the door, he releases her hand to open the door. 
  "I'll make you a list of what I need and a map," he assures her, flipping on 
  a light and assessing that indeed, they have beaten his father home ... 
  thank goodness. He then heads for the kitchen to determine what needs to be 
  prepared, grabbing a piece of paper off the desk as he passes it by.

Shenner for her part considers, then fetches her old battered flight jacket, 
  shrugging it on and immediately hiding something of the curves of her young 
  frame as she emerges from Paul's bedroom.

When she re-enters the kitchen she finds Paul leaning against the counter, 
  having finished up his list and now sketching out the directions. He peruses 
  them for a minute to make sure that they are clear and then hands Shenner 
  the slip of paper. "Okay, on one side is the map, and on the other is the 
  list of groceries." He reaches into his pockets, searching for some money 
  and realizes that he didn't need any today, so he hadn't been carrying any. 
  "Hold on a sec and I'll get you some credits for the food."

Shenner obligingly waits, skimming the list and studying the map as she does 
  so. "Not too far to go, huh?" she pipes.

Returning to the kitchen, Paul hands her the money. "This should be more than 
  enough," he informs her, "and no, it isn't too far away." He takes in the 
  beat up jacket and tsks slightly. "And remind me tomorrow that we need to 
  retire that flight vest and get you something that fits better and doesn't 
  look quite so beat up ... unless it has sentimental value or something," he 
  hastens to add, as the thought occurs to him.

The youngster smirks a bit, and drawls, "It makes me look like a boy." But 
  then she smiles as if to soften that statement, and adds, "I'll be back 
  quick enough, okay?" As she accepts the money, it can be seen also that 
  she's belted on her new blaster; the weapon rides in its holster on her 
  right thigh.

Nodding in response Paul merely adds casually, "Take your time, don't hurry," 
  in the hopes that she will perhaps dally a bit and allow him a grace period 
  in which to hopefully placate his parental figure into something resembling 
  civility.

Shen grins crookedly and nods, and with that, she is gone, stepping out into 
  the late afternoon again. As she takes the path away from the house it 
  occurs to her to think that this is arguably the first time she has ever 
  _shopped_ for food instead of stealing it, and the thought makes her laugh 
  briefly to herself. Shopping for food... and on Corellia, no less, one of 
  the last places she'd ever expect herself to wind up. The thought makes her 
  raise her head in a habit she hasn't regularly exercised since leaving Etti 
  IV -- that of practicing an overall casual air as she strides along, while 
  keeping a surreptitious sharp watch on everything she passes, whether it be 
  other students on the university's campus, doorways, or passing 
  hovervehicles.

Everything she passes by seems fairly straightforward for the most part ... 
  doorways, hovercraft, students, tourtists, and Corellians - all bustling 
  about being pretty innocent. Well, all except the Corellians who seem to be 
  born without innocence. Still, nothing criminal seems to be going on. While 
  some of the people milling about carry weapons, most don't ... or at least 
  not unconcealed ones. The map that Paul sketched out is very good, leading 
  Shen easily through the sometimes convoluted paths until she begins to near 
  the outskirts of the heart of the city. At this point, things begin to look 
  slightly familiar. The map indicates a left turn that she has not taken 
  before, but at the end of the street there is obviously a large market there.

Shen achieves a pace somewhere between 'slow enough to see the sights' and 
  'fast enough to look like she's familiar with the place', and delves 
  unhesitantly into the market. This looks familiar enough, though the idea of 
  actually having credits with which to approach merchants is new and strange 
  enough to make her smirk. Food, though... food. She starts scanning the area 
  for the best places to get the items Paul's requested.

The market is huge, and while there are many signs in each aisle, indicating 
  basically what is available, but the details are sorely lacking. So, while 
  some of the grocery list is patently obvious, other things like the name 
  "kalmar" bring Shen to a complete dead end.

Kalmar? What the kark is 'kalmar', other than something that sounds vaguely 
  like 'Calamari'? The idea makes Shenner unsurely head for the section of the 
  market that sells fish, while she keeps an eye out for anything that might 
  match the name, or better yet, a sign. "Dammit, Paul," she mutters under her 
  breath, "coulda told me you were gonna gimme the list in _Corellian_..."

There is a huge line of people purchasing fresh fish from the market, then men 
  behind the counter goofing off more than working it seems, throwing fish 
  around like they were Shoof-balls and yelling out cheerfully in Corellian. A 
  friendly male voice cuts across her thoughts, responding to her rhetorical 
  mumblings. "Excuse me, do you need to have something translated?"

Shenner looks up, startled. "Wha huh?"

Grey eyes look down into green, and the features look decidedly familiar 
  somehow. A tall, dark brown haired Corellian gives her a wide sexy smile and 
  repeats a little more slowly "Need - a - translator - pretty - lady?"

Her immediate reaction is to think, 'Who the kark is he talking to?'; her 
  second, 'Oh. Right. He's a _Corellian_. Guess he _is_ talking to me....' 
  Shenner's old familiar wariness of men in general and Corellian men in 
  particular rears up and peers out of the back of her head, making her shift 
  her stance subtly back towards the boyish, her voice back towards the tenor. 
  She smirks mildly,and presents the list. "Wanna tell me what 'kalmar' is, 
  pal?"

The man's smile doesn't falter, nor does the charm that seems to positively 
  emanate off of him. He calmly takes the list from her hands and peruses it, 
  his eyebrows raising occasionally as if impressed for some reason. "It's a 
  common spice," he informs her idly, "but you won't find it in the spice 
  section," he adds, as if expecting her to dart away from him to go verify 
  his statement. He then lowers the list and his eyes twinkle at her. "So 
  who's the chef honey, you?" he teases a little seductively. The thing that 
  is most disturbing about him isn't the sex that palpably oozes from him, but 
  the fact that he doesn't seem to even be trying.

Shenner takes the list back, just as calmly, and puts on her best blandly 
  affable, faintly lopsided grin. This Corellian can be dealt with, she thinks 
  hastily; he's nothing different than Shikh, or the Imperial officer she'd 
  run into. (Another back corner of her mind points out that with _those_ 
  Corellians, she'd been pretending to be a boy, but she viciously squelches 
  that thought before it goes any farther.) "Just buyin' some stuff for a 
  friend of mine," she counters. "So if this kalmar stuff ain't in the spice 
  section, where's it at?"

He graciously leads the way with his hand. "If you'll allow me," he replies 
  good naturedly, taking in her features as if cataloging them, and he begins 
  to lead the way through the market. He turns to see if she is following him 
  or not. "You don't remember me, do you?" he asks with a slightly 
  melodramatic quaility to his voice, as if the very fact that you might not 
  cuts him to the quick.

The girl does follow, though she does it with the same sort of wide, loose 
  stride she picked up not only from the Corellian smugglers who frequent Mos 
  Eisley -- but also from Paul himself. "Should I?" she asks casually. She 
  doesn't mention she's only been on the planet a day or two and has no reason 
  to remember anybody on it... yet.

Placing his hand over his heart, he clutches at it dramatically. "Oh the 
  pain," he murmurs, sotto vocce. "Come on, after I served you all that lovely 
  food, and you can't remember me when you have been burned into the very 
  essence of my soul?" He tsk tsks thoughtfully. "Guess I better turn up the 
  charm some more, obviously I'm losing my touch."

Well, okay, he's vaguely entertaining... Shenner smiles faintly, and drawls, 
  "I'd say it was heartburn from the food, pal, but the food was good, yeah."

Leading her into what appears to be the produce section he gives her another 
  sexy smile and a warning. "Oooh, don't let the chef hear you say that .... 
  he is very adamant about his food being the very best, not just good ... and 
  as for heartburn, well, that topic is -strictly- taboo." He leads her over 
  to a section that seems to have a large number of various funguses, like 
  mushrooms, and roots available. One of these baskets is filled with a 
  purplish root looking substance marked "kalmar".

Oh. Well, THAT'S clearly not fish. Trying not to think of Paul's colleague Dr. 
  Canto every time she thinks of the word 'kalmar', Shen turns back to her 
  impromtu guide, and says, "Well, uh, thanks pal..."

Settling himself against one of the displays, somehow managing not to disturb 
  any of the fruits stacked there,he crosses his arms and smiles fetchingly. 
  "No trouble, any time Red."

Shen acquires as much of the kalmar as she can determine matches Paul's 
  scribblings on the list, forks over some credits to the particular merchant 
  behind that stand, and without bothering to identify herself to the waiter, 
  she tosses him a simple nod by way of farewell and ambles off on her way. 
  _First blood?_ she wonders dryly to herself. _Not bad, street rat, for the 
  first Corellian you've handled since admitting you were a girl._

The seductive voice calls after her in a lilting tone. "So, I guess you know 
  where to find the Gifilterphish then?"

Shenner pauses, frowns, and eyes the list. Wha?

Smiling smugly, her self made Corellian tour guide waits patiently for her 
  return.

Shenner turns -- casually! _Keep it casual, Shen_ -- back around, and says 
  blandly, "Not yet, no."

Raising one eyebrow he smiles back at her, a devilishly charming grin. "Do you 
  have any idea what it even -is-?" he teases playfully.

"I might," rallies the girl, "and I might not, and just might learn fast."

Shrugging amiably, the Corellian removes himself from the display. "Hey, just 
  trying to do you a favor, but if you are such a quick study, then I'll leave 
  you to your -own- devices ... not like I don't have some shopping of my own 
  to do," and with that he walks over to a nearby stand and begins to select 
  out some berries there, picking through them like an expert.

"Wouldn't wanna waste your valuable time," Shen drawls. She ambles off again, 
  moving cautiously through the produce stands and looking for... whatever the 
  heck it was. She sneaks a peek down at the list, looking for the 
  tongue-twisting item the waiter'd just mentioned.

The dark haired man makes no reply. Perhaps he didn't hear Shen or perhaps he 
  is now ignoring her. Hard to tell. He carefully selects out his fruits and 
  then bags them with a cheerful smile to the man hassling him over handling 
  the fruit. "Hey, I know a fresh berry from an old one, don't try to cheat me 
  you shyster," he banters with the man. The fruit vendor gives the young man 
  a sheepish grin and shrugs his shoulders innocently, giving him a wide eyed 
  look. Chuckling the young man turns away, popping the fruit into his mouth. 
  He walks past Shenner, turning to toss her a berry and calling out, "Heads 
  up." and then, "Name's Randal, good luck kid." Although it isn't voiced, 
  there is definitely the suggestion that the words, "you'll need it," should 
  have followed his farewell.

Shenner still has a hand free, and she manages to catch the berry before the 
  Corellian -- Randal, huh? -- saunters off. She smirks at his departing back, 
  then annoyedly drops the berry in the bag with the kalmar and turns to 
  stalk off through the market. Who needs him? She can find what Paul needs 
  all on her own, right? What kind of assistant would she be if she couldn't 
  do a simple thing like find food and buy it? Scowling now, the girl 
  continues about her task.

After a few moments it becomes clear that there is more food on this list than 
  can be comfortably carried in one person's arms without a basket of some 
  kind. And, while the majority of the list she is able to locate, there is 
  still that damned Gifilterphish that is no where to be found, and a few 
  other items like "kalash" and "preftonne'"

Sighing, Shenner grumpily seeks out and acquires a basket. It annoys her that 
  she has to burden her arms this way, but, well, hey, maybe she'll at least 
  keep one hand free for her blaster if she has to. She makes what purchases 
  she can, settling them in the basket, and trudging with slowly decreasing 
  patience throughout the market as she tries to find the elusive remaining 
  items.

It becomes readily apparent that this shopping area could really benefit from 
  a little more organization and coordination. Each department seems to be 
  independent unto itself, with little to no knowledge about what the other 
  departments might carry, unless there is an obvious cross over. More over, 
  most of the people are too busy selling and hawking their produce to answer 
  a lot of questions. The elusive gifliterphish and it's annoying companions 
  remain at large. To add insult to injury, occasionally Shen can catch a 
  glance of Randal as he calmly and confidently shops, going to the exact spot 
  on shelves to pick up ingredients ... he doesn't even have to look at the 
  shelf to find the object it seems - just arrives at an aisle, pulls an 
  object off the shelf and boom, onto the next one.

Damned if she's gonna go back and give him another reason to wear that smug 
  smirk that seems to spring right out of Corellian genes! Shenner doggedly 
  and methodically continues to search the market, determined to examine each 
  and every karking shelf until she finds the karking giffiterfish or whatever 
  the kark it's called.

As she continues to scan the shelves one by one, section by section, the 
  endless number of products and names begin to blur together one after 
  another. There is an unexpected tap on her shoulder just as she spies 
  something called Glifterbish ... close but no cigar.

Her temper fraying, her feet chiming in that they personally vote for sitting 
  down for a while and drinking something cool and fruity, Shenner whirls 
  around, wrestling with the urge to punch whatever just tapped her, 
  especially if it's male, Corellian, and handsome. "What!"

It is, in fact, male, Corellian and handsome ... in addition to known - 
  Randal. Taking in Shen's exasperated expression at a glance, his normally 
  charming mouth drops into a thin line of disappointment as he hands her 
  three objects. "Here, Gifilterphish, kalash, preftonne'" He releases the 
  objects almost gruffly. "Next time try a little friendliness and graciously 
  accept help when it's offered, after all we're Corellians, but that doesn't 
  make us assholes," he states a little crudely, and with that he turns to 
  pick up his own stuff and leave.

The girl blinks, then reddens, and mutters at the floor, "Thanks." She takes a 
  moment to eye what she's been running herself ragged for for the past hour 
  -- a better and safer place to be putting her gaze than the Corellian, 
  common sense, not to mention deep embarrassment, advises.

Gifilterphish seems to be some kind of grain object - who would have thought 
  it with the word "phish" in it ... weird. Kalash seems to be a leafy green 
  vegetable, and the preftonne' is a very rich delicious looking cheese. The 
  Corellian in question turns around and pauses for a moment before replying 
  in a mellower tone, "You're welcome ... have a nice day," and then the boots 
  that are the only thing really visible from her perspective turn to leave.

First blood, indeed. Mortified, Shenner mumbles something to the effect of, 
  "Yeah... sure... likewise," and makes no move to stop the miffed young man, 
  keeping her gaze down and busying herself with trying to find some way to 
  settle the new items into the basket until Randal's boots are out of her 
  line of sight. Only when that has safely occurred does she risk looking up 
  and fleeing for the nearest merchant to whom she can throw credits so she 
  can get the kark back to Paul.

This goal isn't nearly so tricky, and within a few minutes the clerk has 
  bagged your food and taken a fair chunk, but not all, of the money that Paul 
  gave Shen. While the two bags of food don't look like too much of a problem 
  to carry, they also happen to be rather heavy. Shen quickly discovers that 
  walking with them takes a fair amount of concentration and an occasional 
  break, as the strain on her arms begins to make the muscles clench and burn 
  a little as she winds her way back home.

And gods damn it all, with both arms laden she doesn't have a hand free for 
  the blaster. Still embarrassed over the encounter with Randal, already 
  footsore from the lengthy search through the market, the girl grows all the 
  grumpier as she trudges back towards the University campus. Weariness and 
  annoyance start to dull her usual alertness even as she tries to compensate 
  for her own inattention with increased speed.

It takes a few minutes, but Shen starts to realize that she must have taken a 
  wrong turn back there or something, because things definitely don't look 
  familiar. The street that she is traversing is for one, rather empty of 
  people, and for another, very run down. The buildings crowd in more closely 
  than on most of the streets, and there is trash and debris scattered about. 
  The houses are dilapidated and in a few cases, obviously abandoned.

When her location starts to sink in, Shenner slows, frowning. Kark it! She 
  takes a moment to stop, then, getting her bearings, and trying to figure out 
  where the last turn she'd taken had been. _Just what I need,_ she growls to 
  herself, as she turns around and starts striding back the way she'd come, 
  looking for that turn. She finds herself wanting to pick up her pace, but a 
  niggle of warning in the back of her head advises her to keep it casual, 
  keep it relaxed, keep it confident. Put out the 'Nothing to see here, move 
  along, you don't see me, I belong here, I'm nothing to note' aura that has 
  so often kept her from getting looked at in the past. Probably nothing to 
  worry about, but then again....

Maybe she needs to brush up on her skills, or maybe in this district no one 
  cares if you "fit in" or not. There is a stumbling rush from an alley, and 
  Shen is crashed into and spun around, the groceries making her somewhat top 
  heavy. The blaster at her side is drawn and pressed against her back and a 
  liquor sodden breath against her cheek growls, "Backward, nice and easy."

_Oh. Karkin'. Hells..._ Not in a mood to get a hole blown through her with her 
  own gun, Shenner yelps, "Right," and starts inching backwards.

He walks you back slowly into the alley from which he emerged. A few curtains 
  can be seen closing, as if perhaps this was noticed, but no one wants to 
  interfere. "Money," he growls. Then, as if realizing you might not be able 
  to get at it he rasps, "Put da bags down slow."

Every nerve in Shenner's body starts screaming at her. This is not the first 
  time she's been robbed... but it's the first time it's caught her so 
  unawares, and it adds a particularly humiliating finale to the day. And now, 
  taking in the reek of liquor off her assailant, Shenner swallows hard, 
  hoping money is _all_ he's got on his mind. Slowly, she sets the bags down, 
  and tries to ignore how her forearms and fingers start tingling painfully as 
  blood rushes back into them; they hadn't liked hanging onto those bags for 
  so long. "Right... credits. You got it, pal," she manages, keeping her hands 
  as visible as possible until she dips one into the pocket where she'd 
  stashed the remainder of Paul's money. _Why the _kark_ ain't I carryin' a 
  knife?!_

"Nice n' easy baby," he repeats, the gun still pressed against Shen's back.

Her stomach clenches; of _course_ he knows she's a girl, but.... Swallowing, 
  Shen draws her hand forth with the fistful of credits. Knowing better than 
  to turn around, and cursing the lack of information she can get on her 
  assailant without looking at him, she holds the money out. "This is what I 
  got, pal, all yours..."

"Drop it," he coughs out.

She can handle that. Her hand opens, and the credits spill down to the 
  rubble-littered pavement.
Shen's mind races. Male. At least as tall as her, if his voice is in her ear. 
  Drunk. How drunk? Can't be too drunk if he managed to reach her -- and the 
  gun is steady enough against her back.

There isn't much there, and the gun presses against her back with a shove. 
  "Where's the rest?" he snarls and the one free hand reaches foward to fumble 
  over her body, looking for something more.

_Crap...!_ "It's what I _got_," Shenner snaps back, forcing her voice to stay 
  steady even as she begins to tremble in mingled rage and fear. "You can 
  _have_ it. Take the food if you're hungry!"

The hand makes contact with her breast and pauses before he pulls her back 
  against him a little harder, squeezing it. "Yeah, I'm hungry alright," he 
  whispers lasciviously against her ear.

Shenner's blood runs cold, as _that_ little comment rules out that her 
  assailant is simply old or desperate. "Lemmego," she growls.

A very unpleasant laugh grates against her nerves as he begins to drag her 
  back further into the alley. "Come on, you said I could "take" the food .... 
  I'm skippin' to dessert." The blaster slides up to her neck as his hand 
  roves across her front, pinching and stroking in rough lewd caresses.

"I said LEMMEGO!" Shenner hollers. Gun be damned, she starts to struggle, 
  seeking to jab an elbow backwards into whatever portion of her assailant is 
  closet. "Get. Your. Lousy. Hands. OFFA ME!"

One elbow makes contact with something, and there is a grunt, but the gun is 
  then roughly jabbed against her ribs. "Try that one more time and you'll get 
  a new mouth to talk out of," he barks softly. It is then that you hear what 
  sounds supiciously like running feet. A form snaps around the corner and 
  spotting you two plunges in yelling at you, "Drop!" and to the man, "Let her 
  go!" The gun at her back wavers for a second.

Shenner, her vision turning suspiciously red at the notion of giving in to 
  this letch, flails around, trying to hit whatever she can, now. Or, if she 
  can grab hold of an arm or a hand, to bite. If she can reach his face, to 
  claw... or, best of all, to kick him, right where a Corellian keeps his 
  finest assets.
Shenner snarls, "Let... me... go!"

The assailant is obviously torn between blasting the girl or the man charging 
  him. Deciding that the girl is potentially less of a threat than the man he 
  raises his gun out to the side to shoot the newcomer, his hand raising to 
  Shenner's throat to crush and cut off her air supply. He grunts as her 
  flailing body impacts with his, but she's still too close to him to land 
  anything more than a glancing blow backwards.

Shenner, alarmed in the midst of her fury, flails up now at the hand on her 
  windpipe, and struggles all the harder -- now, just as anxious to break that 
  grasp on her throat and get free as she is to cause her attacker bodily harm.

A shot rings out as he fires at the man that is rushing them and there is a 
  curse heard from both men, the drunk enraged that he missed, due to 
  Shenner's struggles throwing off his aim, and the man charging them at the 
  fact that he didn't know the other was armed. The assailant, realizing that 
  the odds are getting worse panics and instead of using Shen as a shield or a 
  hostage, he crushes her windpipe hard, enough to make her cough and gag and 
  then grabs her shoulder hard and spins her away, thrusting her hard, head 
  first, into the wall nearest them. He raises the gun to shoot again, and it 
  goes off, at the same moment that the newcomer lunges forward, letting his 
  momentum carry him into a tackle.

As her head cracks into the wall, shooting stars go off in Shenner's vision, 
  and her legs buckle beneath her. The girl sags to the pavement, desperately 
  trying to stay awake as she hears the shots being fired, but at the moment, 
  it seems all she can do is struggle to breathe...

There seems to be a lot of thrashing going on nearby as the two men fight with 
  one another. Gods knows where the gun has gone with all the trash and debris 
  lying about. The newcomer at least seems to have the advantage of youth and 
  strength on his side, but the assailant has experience and dirty tricks on 
  his. In the end, it is probably pure luck that allows the younger man to 
  find the blaster, which he aims and fires at the vagrant, missing, but 
  obviously striking close enough that the man decides to hightail it out of 
  there. As he runs down the alley, the younger man manages to rise to his 
  knees and takes careful aim, but doesn't pull the trigger.

Breathe... breathe, why's it so hard to breathe? Shenner coughs, pawing 
  fretfully at her throat.

It takes a few minutes but then the young man kneels next to Shen touching her 
  shoulder gently. "Shit, are you alright?" The voice sounds familiar, young 
  and a touch high with distress. He looks around nervously, still holding 
  Shen's blaster. "We better get out of here, can you walk?"

Shenner lifts her head, trying to ignore the sharp throbbing on the backside 
  of her skull, and frowns bemusedly as the face of her rescuer comes into 
  focus. "Know you," she mumbles thickly. "Walk... gotta... get outta here. 
  Yeah... walk..." With difficulty, she starts lurching to her feet, her color 
  draining before she manages to rally her senses enough to focus on the 
  notion of Get the Hell Away From Here. "Walk."

"Yeah," he mumurs gently, supporting her as she she tries to rise, "Trace ... 
  we met on the beach." He pulls one of her arms across his shoulders and 
  slips his other arm around her waist. "You'll be okay," he adds, 
  comfortingly, and begins to slowly help her walk out from the alley. His own 
  frame, while physically stable, is also shaking ever so slightly.

Away. Away is good. Shenner issues no protests whatsoever to the idea of Away. 
  It takes her some effort to keep her feet moving, and she has to clamp her 
  teeth down against her lower lip before her head clears enough to really let 
  her stay vertical, but she manages to stumble along with Trace's support.

Pausing briefly at the groceries, Trace takes a look at Shenner's pinched 
  features and lack of color, as well as taking note of his own injuries and 
  decides that the food is definitely of secondary importance. "How bad are 
  you?" he asks between clenched teeth. "Where are you hurt?" He pauses again 
  at the head of the alley and then steps out boldly into the street, making 
  sure that anyone watching can see the blaster that he is holding in his 
  right hand that is supporting Shen ... pointed and ready to eliminate anyone 
  who should make the mistake of getting in their way.

The girl croaks, "Head... throat..." She doesn't seem to register either the 
  dropped groceries or the scattered credits still lying strewn in the 
  alleyway. "I'm... not great, but I'll manage...."

The two of them are begining to reach the main street where Shen must have 
  taken a right just a little too early. The road is fairly quiet and 
  surprisingly enough, Trace takes the correct right without asking her which 
  way to go. However, after making their ragged way up the road he squeezes 
  her left hand on his shoulder with his hand and asks her gently, "Where do 
  you live?"

Shenner blinks, frowning; she's a little steadier on her feet now, though she 
  is still alarmingly pale. "Just visiting," she rasps out.

Trace holds her firmly, even if she does seem a little more focused and stable 
  than before. He sighs and then shakes his head, "Okay then, where are you 
  staying ... where do you want me to take you - to the med center? Your 
  uncle?"

Shenner turns her aching head to her rescuer, and her brow furrows in 
  confusion. "Uncle? I ain't got no un -- ohmigods..." She starts to go paler, 
  then, dismay flooding her eyes, and she coughs out, "Paul... Paul's gonna 
  have seven kinds of mookla kits....! Oh, karkin' hells...!"

Gripping her a little tighter, Trace tries his best to sooth her. "Okay, okay, 
  take it easy, we don't have to go there ... oh seventh hell," he growls. 
  "Trust me, okay?" he asks and changes direction, heading toward the heart of 
  the campus, away from the road leading to Dr. Nighman's house. "Okay, med 
  center or someplace where you can clean up ... you're the one that's hurt, 
  so you should know best what you need," he finishes up hopefully, not being 
  a medic or anything.

"He ain't never gonna let me go to Mandalore...! Not if he sees... wha?" The 
  girl breaks off her babbling, gets a hold of herself, and finally rasps, "I 
  don't want no med center... just wanna... I gotta sit down."

Her words mean nothing to Trace, who is beginning to wonder if she is babbling 
  and in shock or something. "Okay, well let's get you cleaned up first so you 
  don't look quite such a fright, okay? Then once we're sure that you're 
  alright we can go from there." They draw near to a rather tall building and 
  Trace nods his head at it. "Almost there," he assures her.

Dolefully Shenner nods, and lets herself be led, even as her mind races with 
  the varioius ways she expects that Paul Nighman is going to hit hyperspace 
  without a ship when he finds out about what happened. She notes distantly 
  that Trace has, indeed, led her back to the University, or at least what 
  looks like another part of the campus, and as the two of them head into the 
  tallish building she says hoarsely, "You go to school here or somethin'?"

"Yeah," he gasps as they make it into the building. Normally he would take the 
  stairs, but this isn't normal times and he heads for the lifts. "Third year, 
  second quarter, Marine Ecology and Xenobiology." Once in side, he hits the 
  button for the fourteenth floor and then leans against the wall on his left 
  side, still supporting Shenner with her arm across his shoulders and his 
  right arm wrapped securely across her back and right side.

Xeno.... what? Shenner has to gape for a moment before she rallies her senses 
  enough to try to look like she has any idea what that meant, and even then 
  all she can manage is a vague "Oh," as she staggers along with the young 
  man's support. It occurs to her that the building she is now in bears very 
  little resemblance to anywhere she's ever been before, and she glances about 
  it bemusedly.

The architecture is nothing to write home about, and the decorating, well, if 
  one could use the term, seems to be student created. Strange graffitti that 
  has obviously been painted over a million times adorns the walls. There are 
  weird experimental types of sculpture, probably made by the dorm dwellers, 
  but then again, maybe they're just piles of abandoned junk. It's hard to 
  tell. Things are surprisingly quiet for what looks like what is probably a 
  very rowdy living space. Trace reaches a door with the number "13" on it and 
  unlocks it, bringing Shen inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The 
  room isn't quite as bad, but that is not saying much. There seem to be as 
  many books lying around as there is dirty laundry, which is to say, a lot. 
  There are two beds, both unmade, and a few posters of what look like music 
  bands, play promotions, and weird sorts of corny art. There is no one else 
  in the room and Trace brings Shenner over to the bed on the right side of 
  the room and sets her down there gingerly, carefully disengaging her arm 
  from his shoulder and holding her all the time to make sure that she doesn't 
  just keel over to one side. "Sorry bout the mess," he mumurs, "maids year 
  off," he offers in explanation, completely deadpan.

Shenner smirks lopsidedly. "Slept in worse," she mumbles, and, relieved to 
  simply be sitting, sucks in a breath and lowers her head into her hands. 
  "Ooooooh...."

"Shit," he squeaks in surprise as she moans, "What's wrong?" Without even 
  waiting for her to say, he jumps up and heads into a connecting bathroom to 
  pull out a medical kit from under the washing unit.

Promptly, the girl looks up again, and blurts, "I'm okay, pal, I'm okay.... 
  head just hurts." It hurts like hell, but Trace's aghast expression reminds 
  her uncomfortably that Paul is liable to go even more ballistic, and Shenner 
  grimly realizes that she'd better get in her practice for assurances while 
  she can. smiling as best she's able, she goes on, "I'm okay. Really."

The young Corellian turns around, returning with the kit and Shen can get a 
  good look at him now. He is a total mess - his shirt filthy and torn, his 
  pants pretty much the same, and there is a suspicious looking stain on his 
  right pant leg on the side. He opens up the kit and kneels next to her on 
  the bed, peering at her throat. "Okay, well just humor me and let's make 
  sure before you get all cleaned up okay ... he didn't, uh, I mean he didn't 
  do anything to you, did he?" Considering her clothes are still on, he 
  doesn't think anything too serious had had a chance to happen before he was 
  able to catch up with her, but then looks can be deceiving.

Shenner's face tightens, and she feels herself fuming before she manages to 
  rein in her temper and answer gruffly, "Nah. He didn't do nothin'." She 
  offers a short little nod as Trace looks at her throat, and adds, "You 
  better clean up too..."

"In a minute," he mutters. "So where are you hurt? You're neck is gonna be 
  pretty bruised, but I don't think there's any damage there ... anywhere 
  else? Damn, it's a good thing you yelled, I had lost ya until I heard that." 
  He touches the right corner of her jacket, which is now torn, but 
  considering the rest of it's condition, it doesn't look out too out of place.

"Smacked my head," Shen admits, then she blinks as the rest of those words 
  sink in. "Wait... you were followin' me?"

Not seeing any visible sign of damage he reaches behind her to trace through 
  her hair, looking for a lump. He has a distracted look as he does so, but 
  when she asks him that question, his eyes focus on hers and he blushes a 
  little. "Well, not followin' ex-actly," he mumbles embarassedly. He finds 
  the lump with his fingers on the back of her head. "Ah, there it is."

A small hiss escapes Shenner -- indeed, that's a lump, right smack on the back 
  of her skull. She squints tiredly, though, at the young man before her. 
  "Were you followin' me or what?" she demands, too tired to be really angry, 
  but also too tired to beat around the bush.

Turning her head gently to peer through her hair he breathes a sigh of relief. 
  "It's a lump alright, but it's not bleeding or anything." He pulls out a 
  chemical cold pak and punches it hard. He then hands it to her. "This will 
  be cold in a few seconds, just hold it on the back of your head, okay?" He 
  settles back on his heels and shrugs. I saw you carrying the groceries and 
  recognized you, and we were heading in the same direction, so I wasn't 
  really following you ... but when you went down Shuttered Row, well, after 
  I'd kept going for awhile I realized that that couldn't have been right, as 
  you told me you were visiting ... so I backtracked and headed down the Row, 
  but couldn't find you anywhere. I was just about to give up when I heard you 
  holler, so that way I was able to get a fix on you, and well, well, then I 
  just wasn't thinking I guess." He points to her jacket. Take that off and we 
  can stitch it up right quick."

"Oh," says Shenner, intelligently. She blinks after a moment, gratefully 
  accepting the cold pak and pressing it to the back of her head, while 
  stiffly wriggling out of the flight jacket as best she can with only one 
  hand free at a time. The sensation of cold on the back of her head is sheer 
  bliss, and her eyes drop closed in reaction as she manages, "Thanks...."

Trying to give a casual shrug and not quite making it, Trace replies, "Hey, 
  nothing to it," a little gruffly. He gingerly sits up on the bed next to her 
  and points to the bathroom. If you want to go clean up some, feel free ... 
  your clothes aren't -too- dirty, but I can loan you something if you want to 
  wash them up as well. His hand strays to his leg and then he frowns in 
  surprise and looks down and the red wet stain there. "Crap," he murmurs in 
  surprise.

Scowling as her own gaze tracks down to Trace's leg, Shenner says anxiously, 
  "You go first. You're the one bleedin'."

"Mmm," is his short reply and indeed he does get up and go to the bathroom. 
  Forgetting for a moment that Shen is there, he shucks off the pants and 
  strips off the shirt, dropping both into a refresher bin with a wrinkled 
  nose of disgust. There are several bruises forming here and there, a nasty 
  one on his left side, and another mean one on his upper thigh that looks 
  more like it was a blow that missed it's intended mark. He hops up onto the 
  counter next to the sink to peer at the strange cut, poking at it. It 
  doesn't look very serious, but it is bleeding steadily. He digs through a 
  drawer and pulls out a pair of tweezers and then begins to dig into the cut, 
  gritting his teeth and hissing slightly. After a moment he manages to 
  extract a hunk of glass imbedded therein. He prods a little more and then 
  rinses the cut off in the sink for a few moments before grabbing a small 
  towel and pressing it against the cut. He comes out of the bathroom then, 
  walking back toward Shen and sits down next to her, reaching into the med 
  kit for some antibiotic.

It occurs to Shenner that she really shouldn't stare... after all, she's seen 
  this boy practically naked before, hasn't she? But she stares anyway, at 
  least until she slightly distressing sight of him digging that glass out of 
  his flesh makes her wince. "Ouch," she says huskily.

Trace gives Shen a wan smile and nods to the bathroom. "All yours ... you 
  wanna borrow a shirt or something?" He pulls out some guaze pads and then a 
  roll of guaze from the kit. Smearing the stack of pads with the antibiotic 
  he makes a quick slap switch with the towel and then begins to awkwardly 
  wrap the gauze roll around his thigh to hold it in place securely.

Shenner looks down at herself, frowning; her shirt has taken little abuse, 
  given that the battered jacket provided a layer of protection for it. A bit 
  relievedly, she shakes her head, and lets out a breath. "Nah.... nah, that's 
  okay... " And she swallows, once, getting up to move stiffly into the 
  bathroom and splash some water on her face once she reaches the sink. When 
  she comes out, it is with a nervous expression. "I better... go tell him..."

Trace looks up at her, finishing the bandage, and rises, reaching for a shirt 
  hanging on the back of a chair. "You ready now?" he asks, slipping the shirt 
  over his muscled torso. "What about your vest? Do you want to stitch it up 
  first?"

Shenner blows out a breath, then half-smiles. "That old vest of mine has taken 
  enough battering, one more tear ain't gonna make much difference, pal. 
  Besides..." Her smile falters. "Paul's gonna hardly notice the vest, I 
  think... I better get back, he's probably climbin' the walls already."

"Protective, huh?" Trace shrugs and finding a pair of pants he 
  gingerly slides them on. "Okay, but you owe me," he informs her somberly. 
  It's hard to believe that this is the same man who teased her on the beach. 
  There is a very differnent quality to him. Gone is the easy bantering, and 
  the charming smile, while still charming, is a lot more subdued."

Shenner blinks a bit, vaguely offended by the notion of demanding payment for 
  something like this; not knowing whether this is what Trace means, or what, 
  she says warily, "What're you wantin'?"

He gives her a grin, with a glimpse of the devilishness that he showed her on 
  the beach. "You can pick it ... a walk on the beach, dinner, a night at the 
  holotheatre? After all, I could have been killed," he chides her, "in fact I 
  almost was." There is, however, a strange note in his voice, as if that very 
  fact was making itself more and more apparent to himself, and it was not a 
  fact that he had ever faced before.

_Yeah, well, pal, >I< was almost..._ Shenner cuts herself off before she 
  finishes _that_ thought, and is then promptly distracted by the need to gape 
  at Trace, wondering if she heard him correctly. All she can think of to say 
  is, "Huh?"

The grin widens a bit. "What, your social calendar booked solid? I said dinner 
  and a movie? Unless you prefer a midnight stroll along the ocean - that's 
  when it really is at it's best y'know." A little more of the traditional 
  Corellian devil-may-care tone insinuates itself into his voice.

"Lemme get this straight," Shenner blurts. "You're... asking me... for a date?"

Trace blinks innocently. "What, do they call them something else where you 
  come from? Yeah, I guess a date will suffice for a title, though it makes it 
  sound so mundane and commonplace," he sighs introspectively.

"I... can't say... I've ever had reason to know," Shenner says, startled into 
  gruffness. Suddenly not knowing what to do with her hands, and still worried 
  about the probable reaction Paul will have to this entire mishap, she goes 
  on raggedly, "Uhm... look.... I... dunno how long I'm even gonna be _on_ 
  Corellia, yah know? Paul and me, we're only here 'cause he had to come talk 
  to his dad... ah, kark..." Shenner starts to pace, then she finishes 
  helplessly, "I gotta get back."

Handing her back her blaster he merely nods, not really understanding but 
  getting the distinct feeling that he has just been refused. Putting on a 
  bright smile he replies, "Sure, hey it happens ... just watch your back, 
  huh?"

Shenner accepts the gun, and manages an awkward smile. "I... thanks. Look, 
  I'm, uh, stayin' at least tonight probably at Dr. Nighman's house, I, uh, 
  you know where that is?"

The grin slips into a look of shock. "Vader's Evil Twin Nighman?" he all but 
  gasps. He then recovers the slick smile and adds, "Yeah, I think I know of 
  the place ... hey, you were safer on Shuttered Row ... you sure you wouldn't 
  rather stay here?" He gives her a seductive wink.

Shenner blushes, and fumbles to cover it, by blurting honestly enough, "His 
  son, uh, Paul -- he's my friend, see, the one that's gonna worry. I was 
  supposed to get food..." Then she pales. "Ah, karkin' hells!" She smacks her 
  own forehead, then grimaces, as THAT, her skull chimes in, was a bad idea. 
  "The food!"

Trace frowns a bit and then smiles. "Don't worry about the food, I'll take 
  care of it," he chimes brightly. "That's two you owe me. Don't forget us 
  Corellians know how to count." He reaches out and rubs her right arm in a 
  friendly gesture. "Don't worry, if he's Corellian, he'll be more concerned 
  about you than any damn food."

Shenner blinks a bit, and smiles halfheartedly. "Well, uh..." She gestures 
  towards the door, suddenly a little nervous about being alone here any 
  longer, though she thinks Trace is not dangerous. Mostly. "Better go..."

Trace walks over to the door and opens it, and on a quick impulse he leans 
  forward and drops friendly kiss on her cheek and then immediately 
  straightens and gives her a winning smile, as if hoping it will atone for 
  any offense she might take at his presumptuousness. "Okay, then you better 
  go," he echoes.

"Th... thanks," Shenner blurts again. And with that, she flees, trying again 
  for that casual pace... and finding it just as elusive, at least once she 
  gets well out of sight of Trace's door.

His head pops out to watch her hasty retreat and then ducks back in, only for 
  his whole body to emerge a few moments later after Shen is gone from sight. 
  He hurries to the stairs with a plot in mind and a smirk on his face.

[To be continued....]