pour gasoline on me / oh, yes, i burn slow Who: Kaz & Sinjir. What: Work discussions and lessons in blaster mods both go better with alcohol. When: About a week after this. Where: Coruscant Rating: PG?
Sinjir strolled into the bar only fifteen minutes late. He was monumentally proud of this, given the amount of time he had spent before the mirror, trying on and throwing aside an embarrassing number of outfits. His attentiveness had served him well: he cut a striking figure in his black trousers and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He raked a hand through his hair, letting it fall back into its perfectly tousled mess. Tonight was for work, they had agreed, and Sinjir had every intention of trying to be good. But that was no reason to slouch on his appearance.
The room was crowded. He moved through the throng with a determined sort of grace, deftly avoiding stumbling patrons and drink-laden waitresses alike. He slid past a number of booths and tables, peering into each alcove as he searched for his friend.
Kaz was ensconced in one near the back, facing outward so he could see all comers. Gloved and dressed in his usual business attire, he looked as pieced together as he ever was. The empty table before him held promise, his ever-present cane leaned against one corner.
He spotted Sinjir weaving through the throng of bodies and raised a hand to catch his attention. Sinjir waved back and quickened his steps.
"I see you didn't start without me," he said, slipping into the bench seat across from Kaz.
As if to disprove his statement, a waitress appeared and dropped a tumbler of brandy in front of Kaz. The recipient nodded his gratitude to the server, then looked pointedly at Sinjir.
"I was waiting, but then I thought I'd nurse my bruised ego over being forgotten," he replied in an amused tone, wrapping one hand around the glass. Sinjir's lips thinned into a failed attempt at a frown.
"Get you something, hun?" The waitress waited at the edge of the table, looking as cheerful as Kaz did dour.
"Whatever he's having," Sinjir said. "And I hope it's expensive."
"You got it, sweetie," she said. She left with a bright smile and a flick of her hair.
"Forgotten." Sinjir scoffed. "Hardly. I just had to make myself presentable. This is business. A man needs to look the part, right?"
Kaz's eyes raked downward over Sinjir's form, then nodded. "You certainly look presentable. Punctuality is important, however." He took a sip, his lips curling around his teeth for a moment. "Forewarn me now if this is going to be a constant. I'd rather make good use of that wasted time, rather than sitting around waiting."
"I wouldn't call it a constant. I'm usually on time or early, as I'm sure you'll remember from our first meetings. But sometimes things happen." He gave an airy shrug. "If it makes you feel better, I swear that I will do my best to keep you from waiting, and when you must exercise patience, be sure I'll make it worth your while."
A grin appeared on Kaz's face. "My time is valuable, so yes, I'd appreciate that." He passed his glass from one hand to another. "Though you're right -- one time out of three is not terribly indicative of tardiness.
"I suppose I was a little worried you'd reconsidered, given how I made you wait during our last encounter." The amused tone was shaved back, worry replacing it, and something else. His grin tempered.
There was a brief silence as the waitress returned, glass in hand. Sinjir waited until she was gone, then waved dismissively. "If I'd changed my mind you'd know it," he said. "I don't really do passive aggression." He curled his hands around his glass, thumbs idly stroking the sides. "And I'm much harder to get rid of than that. You'll see."
"Yes, you're definitely coming off as tenacious. I'm glad you are; I've been told I can be difficult to get along with," Kaz replied, taking another sip. He hurried the last remark along with more words, his voice low amid the establishment's chatter; he fixed Sinjir with a soft gaze. "I'm more curious about this business you're proposing. I'm guessing I would be delivering more supplies, and shipping the completed...products out?"
Sinjir let the comment pass, though his widening grin made plain the fact it had not slipped his notice. He nodded, licking his lips following a lengthy pull from his own glass. "I plan on producing more in the coming months," he said. "Larger in quantity and in scale. I can't give you a production schedule because I can't be sure I'll stick to it. But my goal is that within the year I'll have a steady supply incoming and outgoing. Some will already have buyers lined up. I'd just need you to be the go-between. The majority will still be sold to approved buyers, as before."
Kaz's gaze fell to his glass, swirling it. "How are you hiring your workers? You can't be producing everything yourself."
"Of course I am," Sinjir said. "Small parts, circuitry, odd materials… I can outsource those little things. There's not much to fuck up there. But the finer and final work is all mine. As things ramp up that might change, but I'll deal with that when it happens."
A surprised look passed over Kaz's face, his whole body following the expression. "When do you sleep?"
Sinjir shrugged. "Now and then." He laughed. "Usually in transit or in between jobs. Catnaps here and there when I'm really caught up in working on something. Then I sort of crash for a while after a big job. There's just too much to do, you know? Sleep can wait."
Kaz smiled, shaking his head as he took another drink. "You're certainly setting a new standard for being a workaholic. I thought I had bad habits."
He canted his head in Sinjir's direction; the fingers on one hand twitched. "Where do you usually work?"
"I have a few workshops around. A couple here on Coruscant, actually. I own one of them, and the other is a friend's place. She has the industrial-grade equipment I need for some... very specific kinds of work. I try to keep a balance of my own space and others'. Spread the liability around." He chuckled, his smile disappearing behind the upturned rim of his glass.
Torn between wanting to ask and probably being better off not knowing, Kaz decided on the former. "And are those specific kinds of work something you shouldn't be discussing in a crowded bar like this?"
"To be perfectly honest, I probably shouldn't discuss them anywhere." He leaned down over the table, pulling the glass in toward his chest. His voice dropped to as near a whisper as it could get given their surroundings. "I could show you, if you'd like."
If there was one thing Kaz liked more than credits, it was secrets. And secrets offered in a voice like that, from a face like Sinjir's, made the trembling in his hands all the worse. Kaz downed the rest of his drink, gritting his teeth as the liquor burned his throat. It matched the heat he felt elsewhere. He met Sinjir's eyes evenly.
"I'd like that very much."
"So would I." Sinjir's smile had turned positively wolfish. He tossed back the better part of his remaining brandy, then set the glass down with a clink. He did not move back from his place, still leaning as though ready to pounce across the narrow table.
"I don't show these things to just anyone," he said. "If there's anything else you want to know about this business, you should probably ask. We go any farther with this and some people would call you an accomplice."
"It's not a title I'm unfamiliar with," Kaz replied. He reached into his pocket and fished out a handful of credits for their drinks, the sound of them clinking onto the table like music. "And I learn better through experience. I'm not the sort to frighten easily. You'll find I can be driven to learn when I find a subject that interests me."
He looked from the currency on the table to the man sitting across from him. "It just so happens I'm free the rest of this evening. No better time than the present, wouldn't you say?"
Sinjir answered by finishing his drink and rising from the booth in one single motion. He smoothed a hand down his shirt front. He waited by the table's edge, taking a single step closer to Kaz's side. "I'm a hands-on learner, myself," he said. "You might say that's my approach to teaching, too. We'll get to her shop and I'll show you a few things. See what sparks your interest. Sound good?"
Kaz merely nodded in reply, going a little slower to rise from the booth. He picked up his cane with his right hand, setting the tip of it firmly on the floor. Once on his feet, he motioned for Sinjir to lead the way.
* * *
From outside, the shop seemed a ramshackle thing. Its facade was narrow metal, unevenly corrugated and polished, as though cobbled together from a number of disparate buildings. A single light mounted to the outer wall dimly illuminated the door it below at unsteady intervals. Sinjir waited until the light was on and had remained so for a moment. He sidled up to a keypad hidden in the doorframe and opened the entry, guiding Kaz inside just before the light flickered off. The door slammed shut behind them; the heavy thud of its locking mechanism sounded an instant later.
One by one, the ceiling panels lit up. The light was stark and bright. Sinjir squinted against it, but kept moving inside. The entryway in which they found themselves was modest, and clearly doubled as a living space, its walls inset with seating below and shelving above. An unmade bed was set deeply into one wall, and beneath it lay a pile of discarded clothing and mismatched shoes.
"Don't mind this mess," Sinjir said. "The real gem is in here." He pushed a panel in the wall and it folded inward, giving way into the workspace beyond.
The interior of the shop was far larger than the building itself had appeared from without. Here the ceiling panels' vibrant light continued, but a number of tall, wheel-mounted lamps dotted the floor for extra illumination if required. The space was pristine. Every tool had its place marked clearly on the wall, and was mounted neatly in it. Wheeled diagnostic carts sat against the wall, ready for use. A small crane sat in one back corner, a hydraulic lift and plastocrete pad beneath it. And in the opposite back corner, a series of massive metal tanks, covered with signs that plainly marked it as hazardous.
Sinjir beamed proudly, as though the place was his own. He looked to Kaz. "Well. What do you think?"
The tapping of his cane preceded him as Kaz moved through the workspace, his bad leg doing little to hobble him. He had seen places like this before, though mainly in passing; his face, usually schooled carefully to ensure that no thoughts were immediately deciphered, showed clearly that he was impressed.
"It certainly shows promise. You said this space belongs to a friend?" He didn't look back at Sinjir, instead tucking an arm behind his back as he continued to inspect the well-organized tool wall.
"It does," Sinjir answered. "A like-minded individual. Sometimes I need all this, but I don't like taking the risk of having certain materials on hand at all times. Or tools, for that matter. Some of this stuff, if you sold it to the right people, you could probably retire on your own private planet somewhere. Or if someone got wind it was here and sold her to the right people, they could make even more."
Kaz made a sound of agreement in his throat; numbers were lighting up before his eyes as he took it all in, names rolling through his mind of who would be interested in what. He finally turned and looked back to Sinjir.
"It's stunning. This is one of the most complete workrooms I've ever seen; you weren't joking when you said you did this yourself." He took a few steps back toward Sinjir, eyeing him. The greedy assessment that had owned him for the previous few moments lingered, though now in a different fashion. "Of course, this could all still just be for show. How do I truly know you're capable?"
"Nothing I say is just for show." Sinjir cracked his knuckles. He moved to one long, wide workbench on the wall to their left, and at once began opening its deep drawers. From the first he withdrew a small tool kit, and set it aside on the table. From the second came a blaster rifle chassis, stock, and scope. He put each on the table, placing them as delicately as if they were glass. "This is what I'm working on right now," he said. "And this--" From the third and final drawer he took a black box, its face marked only by a single small, dark screen. "This is what I just finished."
Kaz watched as Sinjir moved about the space like he owned it; it was clear he was familiar enough with the work room's innards that he looked like he belonged there. For a moment Kaz felt like the outsider he was, but then brushed aside the emotion, instead choosing to take a few steps toward the workbench. As he took in the sight of the little black box more clearly, one of his brows arched.
"Are you aiming to take out a Star Destroyer next?" He glanced up from the bomb to Sinjir's face, an amused skepticism filling out his expression.
"That may or may not be the plan," Sinjir said. He laughed. "But you know. Testing and all that first. That's not the kind of thing you try without already knowing it'll work." He stared down at the bomb, practically glowing with pride at the sight of it. He passed one hand over its face, then returned it to its drawer. He cast a sidelong look up to Kaz as he thumbed something beneath the drawer's handle. Another lock slid loudly into place. "So. Believe me now?"
Kaz pulled out one of the stools from the bench, the sound scraping through the quiet air as he took a seat to relieve his leg. The cane tapped against one of the legs. "I do. All of this," he passed one hand through the air to imply the room at large, "definitely gives me confidence that this will be a profitable venture.
"So when were you hoping to start?" He slid an elbow onto the bench, leaning forward toward Sinjir.
"Immediately." He straightened up, and pulled out the seat next to Kaz's. He crossed over to a nearby cabinet, procuring a bottle of something and two short, opaque cups before returning to the table. He poured both nearly full before sitting down. "I hope rum is okay," he said. He held a glass out to Kaz, who took it without further prompting. "That's all she keeps in this place."
He tipped his chin in the direction of the disassembled rifle. "I've got enough of those finished for you to get an order out as soon as you're ready. Even got a buyer lined up."
Kaz swirled his glass and helped himself to a sip. "I have some other business to take care of first, but I'm available after that. It should be a quick delivery." The hand and arm holding the rum situated itself on the lip of the workbench. "Who's the buyer?"
"Remember those Wookies I mentioned?" Sinjir grinned. "There's a little gang of them who've made an art out of popping flametroopers right in the tank. They have other talents, but that's probably the most entertaining to watch. With these new scopes, they'll be able to do that before the troopers even get out of the transports. Catch one in the tank and watch the whole carrier go up with it." He mimed an explosion with his splayed hands. "Boom."
Brows arched, Kaz shook his head in mock judgement even as he swallowed a laugh. Mayhap that was part of Sinjir's charm, how disarming he could be; he made wartime sound like a simple game of tag. It was jarring, and yet it worked perfectly.
"And you sleep better at night, knowing you helped a gang of hirsute bipeds blow up a carrier of men who just happened to be working for the other side?"
"Like a baby," he said. "Like a tiny little swaddled baby." He turned atop the stool, his knees brushing Kaz as he moved. He pointed at him, hand still wrapped around his cup. "They don't just happen to be working for anybody, Kaz. They could walk away. Finn did. And he gave those motherfuckers plenty to think about when he did. The way I see it, if they choose to stay they deserve whatever blaster bolt gets them. And if it's one of mine that does it, so much the better."
Kaz held up a hand in a peace gesture. "Now I'm remembering why we decided to keep to normal topics of conversation," he replied. "I'm not judging you, and I'm assuming you wouldn't care if I did. Though it says something about a man who can live with that many deaths on his conscience." He helped himself to more of the rum, unconsciously sliding closer to Sinjir so that the previous knee brush became a continuous touch.
"There'll be more where those came from," Sinjir said. "I didn't make these rules. I just play by them." He topped off his own dwindling glass, then did the same for his guest. "So what do you think that says about me?"
He accepted the alcohol without comment. "That you're dangerous," he replied, taking a longer pull from his glass and setting it down half empty. "Reckless. Either a wise business investment, if I can keep you at a distance or on a decent leash. Or something that's better dealt with once, and jettisoned after I've gotten what I want from you. There's only one way these kinds of things go." He found himself leaning in closer, his mind not guarding his thoughts or his mouth as well as it should have been.
"I don't like either of those options," Sinjir said. He tossed back his rum and immediately poured another. His elbow rested on the table, his raised cup the only thing between them. In spite of the liquor his eyes were clear and bright, unblinking as he held Kaz's gaze. "I don't accept them. I know you've been through a lot. But I'm not like anyone you've dealt with before. You've never seen anything like me."
"And you've been around long enough to know for certain? There are two kinds of people, the users and the used. I know which one you are, and now I'm just trying to decide how much trouble that's going to get me into." His fingers reached for his cane, pushing it into the workbench where the crow's beak caught on a ring in one of the bench's legs. He looked back to Sinjir, his gaze challenging; the drink was making him mean. "So far I haven't seen anything to dissuade me about anything I've said."
"Then that's on you," Sinjir said. "I've never lied about what I want or what I'll do to get it. I've never withheld the risks of working with me from you. You know exactly where we stand at all times. People aren't binary, Kaz, and not every deal is a zero-sum game. Is this business or something else?"
"It's not the work I'm worried about. I know the risks; this isn't the first time I've played this game." He stopped himself, sitting back, his gaze cast to the table as he reined in sudden anger. A gloved hand rose to rub at the back of his neck. Finally he picked up the remainder of his glass and drank it down, putting the empty tumbler down softly. "I suppose I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I shouldn't even be saying this, but apparently I can't hold my liquor anymore."
"Good. You should say whatever's on your mind. It's a hell of a lot easier to deal with if it's out there, instead of me having to guess. Fuck, man. Not all of us are mind readers." As if to punctuate his point, Sinjir filled the cup in front of Kaz, stopping when the rum was just shy of its lip. He leaned up, drawing closer as he studied Kaz's stormy expression. "Listen to me. There's no other shoe. None. If it's not work we're talking about, let me make this really clear. If I only wanted to fuck you and leave, I'd have already bailed. I haven't. So you do the math."
Kaz pushed the glass away by a few inches. "I told you others found me difficult."
He brushed a hand back through his hair, his spine straightening as he asserted control over himself again. "If it's not already obvious, I can be a touch paranoid. Comes with the job. It's too bad I wasn't found to be Force sensitive, because being a mind reader would have helped in the long run."
"It sure would have," Sinjir said. His face and voice both softened. He reached out, placing one hand lightly on Kaz's forearm. "But that's a skill neither of us has, so we're just going to have to fall back on what we can do." He chuckled, his eyes darting to the bottle and back again. "Like drink and argue, apparently." He squeezed Kaz's arm. "Others find you difficult. Okay. Others say the same thing about me. Maybe they're all wrong. And even if they're not, who the fuck cares?"
Kaz didn't shy away from Sinjir's touch, instead focused on his gaze and the way his mouth moved as he talked. "I never said I was worried about what's said of me," he replied. "Only that it was said. I don't care if they're wrong or right. I have too many problems to deal with that are less imaginary." He moved his hand on top of Sinjir's on his arm, his leather-clad thumb rolling over the back of the other man's hand.
"Smart man." He drained his cup and set it aside, never turning from Kaz, never looking away. "So these problems of yours. Let's see what we can do about them. We can start with this." He nodded toward Kaz's gloved hand. "I want you to touch me. However you want, for as long as you can. That sound doable?"
Kaz arched a brow, a pleased look filling his face. "Is this why you keep refilling my glass?"
Sinjir laughed, his shrug and the skyward roll of his eyes a ready confirmation. But it was clear he was persuaded by the prospect. He slid closer, knees brushing knees as he kept his hand on Sinjir's. The pleasant warmth the alcohol had put in his belly softened his thoughts; the feel and fear of dead forms did not dance through his head. Instead there was only warm, welcoming flesh. His fingers kneaded gently, moving from the back of Sinjir's hand to his wrist, closing around it like before. Sinew, muscle twisted under his touch.
A soft smile played over Sinjir's lips. He watched the play of black leather on his skin, felt the subtle heat of Kaz's flesh beneath that barrier. His gaze slid up from glove to arm to shoulder, tracking the lines of a body hidden carefully away. His look lingered on the hollow of Kaz's throat, the hard angle of his jaw, the hesitant pleasure in his eyes. He did not move beneath Kaz's hand, though he desperately wanted to.
Locking his gaze with Sinjir's, Kaz raised the man's hand to his face, bringing fingers to lips. He started with the tips, kissing them lightly. Moving down, he came to the palm and pressed a deeper kiss between forefinger and thumb. Teeth nipped carefully, testing.
Sinjir sucked in a clipped breath. Thoughtlessly he leaned in toward that small, biting kiss. The pad of his thumb moved a fraction, drawing soft encouragement over Kaz's cheek. In that moment Sinjir was glad indeed his guest could not read minds. He bit his tongue and kept his place, remaining utterly still but for that small gesture.
Hot breath moved over Sinjir's flesh as Kaz deepened the bite, then immediately followed that with a kiss that pressed hard into the flesh. His thoughts were hazy, but there was one clear desire, and that was to slowly take more of what he was being offered. His mouth moved down, over Sinjir's wrist, where he could feel the other man's pulse through the skin; he could feel it quicken, the tiny thumps giving him more encouragement.
He moved back up, bringing the tip of Sinjir's thumb to his mouth and sliding the pad along his lower lip. Slowly, he closed teeth around the flesh, lightly, as he brought the appendage deeper into his mouth.
Sinjir's teeth sank sharply into his tongue, but he could not curb his quiet groan. For a man so used to giving in it was a strange sort of titillation to draw this out; it was torture, in its way, but a kind Sinjir suspected he could grow accustomed to. His tongue flicked out, tracing the seam of his mouth, and with it another sigh slipped free. His free hand moved to the leg of his trousers. His fingers curled in the fabric, nails pressing into his skin beneath. It was no real distraction from his burgeoning arousal, but it would have to do.
Teeth slid down the length of Sinjir's thumb, Kaz's tongue tracing in their wake. He took the appendage in, and released it just as slowly, his lips firm around it. He finally released it with his teeth drawing lines along the nail as he pulled the pad down his lip and chin. A flash of unseeing eyes flickered through his mind, water lapping around the edges of a face. Kaz shuddered, swallowed, his mouth and hands trembling for a moment before he let go of both of Sinjir's hands. He licked his lips, slouching back; his elbow struck the near-filled glass of rum, slopping it over the side and onto his sleeve.
"Shit." Gloved fingers searched out the wet spot, arms removing the jacket to prevent the stain from going deeper. The spilled rum dribbled from the side of the table.
"It's okay," Sinjir said, his voice rough-edged and low. He reached beneath them, pulling out the first drawer just enough to fit his hand inside. He pulled out a thick towel, clean but streaked with deep discolorations. He found a second -- slightly less unsightly -- and handed it to Kaz. He left his chair, quickly adjusting himself as he moved to the side of the table, where he began mopping up the spilled liquor.
He cut a sidelong glance up to Kaz. "Are you?"
Kaz was busy dabbing at his jacket, which thankfully covered his own visible frustration. He nodded at Sinjir's question.
"If anything, it's your fault for filling the glass up too much," he replied, hiding his embarrassment with the joking barb. He pressed the towel flat to the elbow of his jacket; he wasn't honestly worried about the garment, nor did he misunderstand Sinjir's concern. "I'm fine. That...that was more than I thought I could do. Not much, but certainly more." He bundled up the jacket and set it on the far side of the workbench, away from the spilled glass. Using the towel, he wiped up under the glass and around the edge of the table.
"If there are stains, your friend can send me the bill."
"It'll be fine. And if not I'll handle it." Sinjir dropped the liquor-soaked towel into a nearby bin, then pushed it over to Kaz with his foot. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm, uh, not really supposed to bring anyone else here. Worth it, though. So worth it."
Kaz returned Sinjir's grin before he even realized he was. He tossed the towel he'd been handed into the bin.
"I'm beginning to think you're a masochist," he replied, his hands suddenly feeling unbearably empty. He curled them into his legs, against his thighs, and then finally moved to stand. "I suppose we should go, then, before I make a bigger mess of things." His hand reached for his cane.
"Why? Workshops are for making messes. They get cleaned up." Sinjir's hand circled the cane's raven head. "Besides, how long has it been since you worried about getting caught?" He chuckled. "It's kind of fun. Admit it."
Kaz's mouth echoed Sinjir's, and he found himself thinking a little too long on the other man's lips. The cane in his hand sagged under the gentle weight of Sinjir's touch.
"I'd be lying if I said you were wrong. It's been a while, but that's what comes of moving up in the world," he replied, his gaze dragging up to meet the other man's. "I guess it's a good thing I've got you around to remind me."
"I guess it is." Sinjir's hands smelled of rum and oil, remnants from the towel he had cast aside. Either he did not notice, or did not care; he raised one hand to Kaz's neck, fingers sliding over that small strip of exposed skin. He circled his nape, pulling Kaz to meet him over the cane's carved handle. He kissed him, soft but insistent, his smile still evident even as their lips met.
Kaz's mouth responded back easily and evenly, but still remained cautious; it was good that he had his cane in hand, as his knees were feeling a little less than responsive. The sharp tang of rum mixed with oil and gasoline swirled around him, entwined with Sinjir's own scent; it was a heady mixture, and it kept him grounded in the moment. Raising the hand that wasn't holding his cane, he pressed his palm to the side of Sinjir's face, his fingers edging along the other man's hairline. He pressed forward, deepening the kiss, his lips parting slightly.
Sinjir did not waste the opportunity given him. He held Kaz close, hoping to encourage -- or at least distract and entertain -- him with a slide of his tongue over Kaz’s own. His hand moved from cane to chest, his fingers clutching tight at the fabric of the other man’s shirt. One barrier gone, one remaining. He could feel the heat of Kaz’s skin through his clothes, the hard lines and angles of the shape of him beneath. His mind ran off with him, drawing from him a quiet groan that broke against Kaz’s mouth.
The smirk that shaped Kaz's mouth gave away his thoughts on Sinjir's reaction; his hand strayed down from the man's face, along his neck, gently thumbing his windpipe. Fingers trailed through the bottom of Sinjir's hair, undoing the careful mess that had been made there an hour or two before. Head canted, his own tongue moved in Sinjir's mouth, over teeth, careful and probing, as his form remained still; he didn't move or encourage Sinjir's hands on him, though he wasn't immediately averse to it.
Slowly, gingerly, Sinjir uncurled his hand against Kaz's chest. His fingers splayed over faintly crumpled fabric, smoothing over it to feel the flesh it concealed. He hummed softly at the slide of Kaz's thumb, and leaned, seeking, into it. He let his tongue slip beneath Kaz's tentative press, opening his mouth, giving himself over to that careful exploration.
Suddenly, Kaz pushed forward, pressing Sinjir back against the workbench that they'd been seated at previously; his hand came down to Sinjir's shoulder, grasping. His mouth pressed harder, the hand on his chest crushed between their bodies. Hands, everywhere. He could feel them on his shoulders, his legs, unfeeling, cold fingers caressing him with a touch that no longer cared. He stumbled back and only found more, more, more, an unending landscape of corpses. The feeling sent a tremble through him, and Kaz stepped back, sucking in air.
His cane found purchase on the floor as he leaned on it heavily, trying to avoid his bad leg. The hand that wasn't clutching his cane came up and pressed to his face as annoyance flashed across it.
Sinjir's hands reached back, curling around the edge of the bench. He watched Kaz a moment, trying to read details in his expression that might not be offered otherwise. His frustration was clear; Sinjir shared it, but not in the ways or for the reasons Kaz might have suspected. "That went better, I think," he said, his low voice unflaggingly cheerful. With somewhat less certainty, he added, "Was it something I did?"
Kaz shook his head, his hand falling to his side once more.
"I'm just never sure what will...what will set it off." His voice was gruff, laboring harder under its usual grit. He took in a deep breath, and walked forward, his cane tapping lightly on the ground. Sinjir did not reach out, but watched him closely, ready to help if he was needed. "Better to find out. Your method of investigation certainly leaves little to chance."
"It's the only properly scientific way," Sinjir teased. "Slowly introduce new variables. Observe results and adjust accordingly. You make an excellent subject. I'm only sorry it's an occasionally unpleasant process."
Kaz nodded, giving no verbal reply. His eyes were at work studying Sinjir's face again, but a rattling behind the panel that had originally let them in pulled all attention in that direction. A moment later, a blue-skinned Twi'lek walked in through the door, looking just as surprised to see them as they surely were to see her. Her quick pace to enter the shop slowed as she eyed the two men. She sighed.
"OK, Sin, I'm really hoping you have a good explanation this time."
His ready grin appeared at once. "Xiann! Of course. I'm doing some work for my friend--" He tipped his head toward Kaz. One brow was arched in a silent plea, though to which of them it was directed was unclear. "--and I realized I left this chassis and all here. The undercity's been kind of sketchy lately, so it didn't seem polite to make him wait outside."
Xiann's eyes rolled toward Kaz, assessing. "You're nicely dressed for a smuggler."
Kaz smoothed a hand down his shirt front, suddenly realizing he was missing his jacket. "Appearances matter. It's a pleasure, though I wish the circumstances were better."
"This is the status quo when you're dealing with him," Xiann replied, chucking her chin in Sin's direction. Her eyes landed on something behind them on the workbench, her tone growing more heated. "And how did picking up a part turn into drinking my stash?"
"Well, we'd arrived at terms for our business arrangement," he said. "It's only proper to have a drink to celebrate. I didn't think you'd mind. We're both going to make a lot of credits off this. And since I need your shop for some of the promised merchandise, you'll get a cut of my share, of course."
This time her gaze narrowed. "You're so full of shit, Sin." She moved forward through the room, pushing past Sinjir and letting a bag drop to the floor. "But I better see those credits, and I don't want to see him here again." She jerked her head at Kaz. "I don't know what wild bantha chase you're on, but don't do it here, OK? My workshop is not a cathouse."
She lifted the bottle by its stem, frowning at its lack of contents, then stared at Sinjir and Kaz as though she were surprised they were still there. "You can kindly show yourselves out, since it's the same way you got in."
"Oh lighten up," Sinjir chided. He pressed an elbow into her ribs as he stepped lightly to the side of the desk, and snapped up Kaz's jacket from atop it. He left the rifle parts behind, having forgotten them already. Then he moved back to his guest's side, the other man's coat draped over his arm. "After you," he said, making a sweeping gesture toward the door with his free hand.
Xiann muttered darkly under her breath but had nothing more to say directly to Sinjir's face; it was clear she was far more keen on them vacating the premises so she could assess the damage to her precious workshop.
Kaz was perfectly happy to give the Twi'lek what she wanted, and followed Sinjir's motion toward the door. He managed to keep his movements straight, his gait looking like any other man's despite the presence of his cane.
Once they were back outside not only the workshop but the dwelling it was hidden in, Kaz spared a glance at his companion. "I take it I'm not the first guest you've taken in there?"
"You are, as a matter of fact. But…" Sinjir met Kaz's look as he dragged out the word. He walked a bit closer, his shoulder brushing Kaz's. "I've brought plenty of things I wasn't supposed to take in there. And of course there's been times I needed to use the shop and haven't exactly had time to ask her first." He shrugged. "Sometimes a man just needs to build a little biological weapon. Even if he is pretty crap at chemistry. Try explaining that to her, though."
Kaz shook his head, though the smirk lingering around his mouth betrayed his amusement. "I really can't imagine why that would bother her in the slightest. My jacket?" He held out his free hand for his missing garment. Sinjir handed it over with only the smallest show of hesitation.
"What did you have planned for after this?"
"Absolutely nothing," Sinjir said. "But the night's still young and I'm a little buzzed and I'm sure we can still think of some business, or something else, to talk about. I think there's a little speakeasy another level down…"
"Fine by me," Kaz replied, slipping his jacket on while passing his cane from hand to hand. "I don't have anything on my schedule, and this is a better use of my time." He started forward, one hand urging Sinjir to fall into step with him.
Sinjir needed little more provocation. Grinning, he led Kaz deeper into the belly of the Coruscant, toward the dubious pleasures it held.