maskormenacelogs | [open] Take a look, it's in a book!

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[open] Take a look, it's in a book!

WHO: Boba Fett and you!
WHERE: A library in De Chima
WHEN: Early March
WHAT: Fett checks out a book, is definitely hunting someone for Evil purposes and is certainly not doing anything remotely good or nice. Mind ya business (please don’t).
WARNINGS: Missing person(s)

[It’s funny how quickly one's reputation can change.

Weeks earlier, Fett had been primarily recognized as a sinister figure—and why not? Violence is part and parcel with his role here, even if the tasks he completes now are too varied to simply call him a bounty hunter anymore. Enforcer, bruiser, bodyguard—and yes, sometimes he’ll drag someone in for a fee. They say he can find anyone, no matter how well-hidden.

It shouldn’t have surprised him the first time someone asked him to find a family member rather than a foe, but it did. He almost turned the job down on principle—but then he had heard of the reward.

This is the third such job he’s taken since then and he doubts it will be his last. He’s developing a very mixed reputation now indeed—Boba Fett, purveyor of violence and occasionally missing loved ones. Even though he demands discretion on the part of his clients, word still seems to get around. It would irritate him more if it didn’t pay so well. In this world, confined to handful of cities rather than the entire galaxy, he can’t afford to be so particular.

Right now, he’s tracking the daughter of a Maurtia Falls business-owner. She had gone radio silent after leaving for university in De Chima two months ago and was not found to be attending classes. In Fett’s opinion, someone her age is old enough to be allowed to disappear if she so chooses, but apparently her parents see differently.

Her trail had taken him to a library, where he now stands amidst the shelves, looking very out of place in his Mandalorian armor. He’s looking for a new wayfinder, as he’s come to think of them, an object the target—the missing person had held. The keychain her parents had provided wouldn’t take him much farther.

Fett can be found ostensibly searching for a book, one ungloved hand methodically running over the neat rows of spines.]

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"Do you need any assistance, sir?"

Jonas has been hanging around the library lately, and volunteering there, sometimes. It has been a solace, and a place to recenter himself and redirect himself. Spotting the armored person, so obviously an import, looking for something, Jonas sought to be helpful.

Under his visor, Fett’s eyes flick towards the stranger and then back towards the books. “No.”

He at least feels he’s in the right section. He turns to the shelves on the other side and tries those ones instead, running two fingers over the books’ spines. Still nothing. Is he going too fast? Or has he just not come across the right one yet?

The man to his side continues to go ignored.

"As you wish. I hope you find all you desire."

And, not being the type to push, Jonas, turns to go.

[Sal's in this library for a professional reason also; she's kept at that job they've given her, thrived at it even. There's been a meeting at this library today with a few colleagues, discussing the latest releases and upcoming deadlines. It's the most normal thing she's even managed to do for work, and even after months, Sal hasn't found a real reason to give it all up.

After business, she's walking with intent toward the exit, her mind on other things—but it's hard not to see him. That armor sticks out anywhere, and wouldn't you fucking know it? Fett is looking at books. She stops, of course, hands in her pockets, lingering at the far off corner of the aisle.

A polite person might simply see him and decide to mind their business. A cautious person might see a dangerous man in armor and would likely do the same. Thankfully then, she's not either of those things, so Sal decides she's in a fair enough mood to say "hello" to Mr. No-Fun.]

Hey! There's no fighting in the library.

[As she's saying this, what is probably supposed to be some kind of friendly (maybe?) greeting, she reaches for a light paperback on the shelf without looking and tosses it with expert aim, right for the side of his helmet. Sal the Cacophony, bane of all librarians.]

[There are many days Fett is grateful for the 360-degree display in his helmet. He wasn’t expecting it to be that useful in a library of all places, but then, he hadn’t expected to see Sal.

He’s already been watching her for a few seconds before she delivers her… greeting? Warning? He’s not quite sure, but he at least knows how to recognize a wind-up for a throw when she picks up that book. His arm darts out to the side when she lobs it, snatching it out of the air. Only then does he turn his helmet to face her.]

Not looking to fight, [he says, helmet finally turning towards her. Some distance behind Sal, there’s a librarian glaring in their direction, a stern look on her face. Fett doesn’t intend to leave without the lead he’s looking for, but in the interest of time, he’d prefer to avoid confrontation with the staff.

Which could be difficult if Sal gets them kicked out.]

What do you want?

[That's the kind of reaction she's expecting. Sal offers him a smirk, far less concerned with what other people nearby think of her antics, and walks closer to him. She's curious to find out what Fett's doing here, around books, looking ready to fight regardless of what he's saying.

Maybe he's truthful, and he's just paranoid enough to keep that armor on at almost all times—honestly, remembering his face and his humorless stoicism, it doesn't make much difference anyway. Up close, she uses a quieter voice.]

I want to know what you're up to, Fett. You in a library, it just doesn't feel right.

[She's birdshitting her way through this of course, because really, why not bother him? No single person holds a monopoly on being a dangerous asshole, after all, and this one seems interesting enough. Untethered from any kind of code or duty, Sal comes and goes how she wants.]

[He turns away again.] Why? Because I don’t seem the type to read?

[He remembers her saying something to that effect the first time they'd met. It doesn’t bother him; between his profession and his preference to stay quiet, he’s used to people assuming he lacks in intellect. Their underestimation of him tends to work in his favor.

He starts testing the books again, slower this time, making sure he has at least a second of contact with each.]

I’m working.

Are you saying I shouldn't judge a book by its cover? That's real cute, Fett, but come on. You look like you're dressed for an ambush, and the way you're...

[Sal gestures to whatever it is he seems intent on doing.]

Fondling those books, well, it just doesn't track. Go ahead and prove me wrong if you want, of course, if I'm impinging on your honor or whatever.

[She crosses her arms, curious as to what kind of response he'll give. Aside from hassling him relentlessly to mixed results, Sal doesn't really know much about him yet. Evidently, this is the path she's chosen to figure it all out; straight-forward, relentless, annoying.]

I didn’t say that.

[He never said she was wrong. Life’s simpler when people assume he’s a dumb brute; he isn’t invested in correcting them.

Her word choice to describe his activity, on the other hand, is met by the barest turn of his helmet in her direction. There might be a withering glare under that visor. There might be nothing more than a raised eyebrow. With his helmet in place, Fett is even harder to read than he was without it.]

You think I’m doing something… nefarious.

[He isn’t offended. Most days, he would be doing something unlawful. Today is an exception. Still, if she’s going to make it about how he’s dressed...]

I always wear my armor. Doesn’t mean anything.

[That wasn't exactly a denial on the nefarious part, she notes, but what a strange distinction to make. Sal's almost willing to ask him, what's so special about a smelly set of armor? But of course, doesn't she wear this luckwritten scarf most places herself?]

Right. And you're not worried about intimidating whoever you're meeting here, or is that the point?

[She doesn't really care what shady business he's dealing, just as long as she can keep herself out of it. A gun fight in a library, for instance? Sal's pretty sure Liette would find a way to port here, if only to murder her for it.]

This place seems like a harmless den for local college students, but I guess that shit could be considered nefarious somehow too.

[Everyone is just full of surprises today.]

[She really does seem determined to take an interest in exactly what he’s doing here. Does she think he’s about to start a brawl in a library? Or set off a thermal detonator? He gives his head a slight shake and then turns back to the shelf in front of him.]

I’m just looking for a book.

[It’s not a lie. That said, it might have been more convincing if he weren’t currently standing in the “Poetry” section of the library.]

[To be fair to him, Sal manages to keep her reaction mitigated to a tight smirk. Mages of Cathama have a very particular set of customs, of them is a keen interest in the arts. Opera, certainly, but also poetry. So when the locals who follow her book reviews start sending her recommendations, is she not obligated to give them a look?

Fucking right she is, so Sal barely has to glance away to take up another book. This time, kept perfectly in her own hands and not used as an odd manner of greeting. The scar on her cheek makes her look far too serious as she glances down to a page.]

Someone will remember us / I say / Even in another time.

[She can't see his reaction, which means all Sal can do is raise her eyebrows at him and guess. It's evident that she doesn't exactly believe the excuse he's offering but hell, it's nice of him to try.]

Shit, that's really fucking sentimental, Fett. Charge of the Light Brigade is down another shelf, you might like that more, huh?

[To be fair, there’s not much of a reaction to see. This time, Fett’s side-eye is completely contained under the cover of his helmet.

He, personally, knows next to nothing about poetry, aside from the fact that it sometimes rhymes. He knows even less about the poetry of this world. Sal seems to, though. That alone is unexpected—she hadn’t struck him as the cultured type when he’d met her first.

...Perhaps she may be of some use.]

What would I read if I wanted to disappear?

[What she's expecting isn't much, maybe some monosyllabic show of disapproval, the odd and ambiguous grunt at her own antics. But that request? Definitely not. Sal raises her eyebrow, but doesn't immediately tease him for it.

No, she's firmly invested in finding out more about what he's doing here; not for any great purpose of course, save her own personal curiosity. So Sal turns her gaze down to the books again, shuffling through the nearest titles until she thinks she's found something of that type. It's a sentiment she can understand, anyway; craving some kind of freedom, a venture off into the unknown.]

Personally, I'd wear something a little less conspicuous to start off with. But, I guess this could do.

[She jokes, but Sal's taken the request seriously enough. She offers him up a small pile of books, watching to see if he'll take them and then...well, then what?]

[Fett ignores the jab, taking the books without a word. One by one, he takes the first book off the top, holds it in his bare hand for a moment, then shuffles it to the bottom of the stack. His examination is perfunctory—he doesn’t even seem to be reading the titles.

On the fourth book, he stops. Holding it in his hand, his helmet turns as if tracking the movement of something unseen... and then, he looks back at Sal, nodding curtly.]

Appreciated.

[With that, he hands back the other books and attempts to shoulder past towards the exit.]

[Not in a mood to cause a brawl in the middle of the aisle, Sal gives him a frown of confusion but allows Fett to walk past unhindered. It's not her business, neither personally nor professionally, she reminds herself. It's weird, but there's no imperative to press on. Even so.]

Come on, that's it?

[Hands in her pockets, not quite pouting but near to it, Sal takes a slow walk in the general direction he's heading. Some of the locals tilt their heads to judge, well, either a suspicious man in armor or an off-put woman with a scar on her face trailing along after him. Curious onlookers, but not reckless enough to try and interject themselves into this strange imPort behavior.]

Yeah, well, I knew you weren't going to fucking read anything.

[He’d said ‘thank you,’ almost. What more does she want?]

That’s it.

[He wonders if she really did expect him to blow something up before he left. Or perhaps to pick a fight? It would explain why she’s following him with a disappointed scowl on her face. He expects she’ll get bored and give up following him soon enough. And if not, that’s a problem he can confront outside.

He continues towards the exit—paying no mind to the dismayed stare of the librarian as he strides past the checkout desk.]

[Sal trails along behind, offering the irked librarian a cheeky salute as she heads toward the exit. Outside in the open, Sal takes a breath of chill air and wonders just what she'll do. After all, Fett seems intent on going along on his business alone.

Spotting a nearby bench, she makes the effort to fly up above and over him, perching on the backrest like a curious bird.]

Well, what now? You going off to chase after some runaway?

[She hazards a guess, based only on the question he had asked. She remembers her own days back home, taking odd jobs. Usually it was hunt down a criminal, fight a warlord or a bandit, some other vagrant mage who had gained too many enemies; but money is money, and who knows what this guy gets up to during daylight hours.]

[Underneath his visor, Fett’s eyes follow Sal as she alights on a nearby bench. Flight isn’t an uncommon power here, but it’s still always uncanny to watch.]

That’s none of your concern.

[That said, she seems to be trying very hard to make it so. Her continued interest is as perplexing as it is irritating.]

Is there a reason you’re following me?

[It may be a question, but it's spoken in the pointed tone of an invitation to stop.]

Well, why not?

[One of Sal's best skills is her ability to be completely and relentlessly annoying. She doesn't employ it as much in this world, trying to get along with people—well, just trying more, anyway. But there's something about Fett's attitude that pulls it out of her. So, it's as simple as it sounds, and the grin she offers him now is identical to the one she gave him during that swear-in.]

You know, I've chased people plenty of times on foot, and it gets to be a real boring slog after a while. Since you're going off alone, you might as well get moving, right?

[Not moving or trying to get in his way, she merely continues to perch on the bench like a bothersome crow. Resting her chin on her open palm, Sal watches and waits for him to gives some kind of long-suffering noise and stomp away.]

[Sal will get even less than she expected—no words, just a steady stare from his helmet visor, before he continues to walk away. As obvious that it is that Sal is trying to annoy him, he’s expecting that the ‘since you’re going off alone’ part of her commentary means she’ll actually find something better to do with her time.

Anyway—he has a lead. Better to focus on that than on “The Cacophony” being juvenile.]

[It's annoying, but she watches without interfering as Fett takes off down the street. Sal finds it more interesting when someone at least has the decency to offer a curse at her or even a good, witty retort. But no, she hops off the bench and stands there, hands in pockets as he stalks silently off to tend to his (weirdly mysterious) business.]

See you later, pal.

[There's a moment she instantly dislikes where Sal puts herself in Fett's place for a moment. If things had gone a little differently, she realizes, she'd probably still live this kind of life as well. There's a memory that gnaws at her, that feeling of emptiness that comes with living alone. Where people are either useful to your goals or in the way—and at the end of the day, it's just you, and a gun, and a mission.

She pushes that feeling down, waits for him to move out of sight. What a pain.]

[ Libraries, are not really Rey's thing.

But since her meeting with Kylo Ren earlier this month, she's been doing all to keep herself busy. Maybe because if she stops and thinks about it too hard -- well. It's easier this way. She's always had an interest in technology and tinkering, a scavenger's pasttime, if they had such a thing, because if it wasn't a requirement for survival it'd have almost been a hobby of hers. Hence the book in her hands, and the newly acquired scrap of a bike sitting back home.

The tall armored figure standing amongst the shelves draws her attention from the book about motorcycles she'd been looking at. Rey snaps the book closed. ]

... You're Mandalorian?

[ What she knows about Mandalorians would not fill a paragraph of a book, but she at least recognizes the armor. ]

[Beneath his visor, Fett’s eyes flick towards the stranger in his periphery. If she had greeted him some other way, he might not have even granted that much attention, but her recognition makes it clear she’s a denizen of his galaxy—and not one he recognizes. He searches instinctively for any weapons on her and finds what appears to be a lightsaber at her side.

His helmet turns to face her more fully, the hand that had been carefully trawling over books now dropping to his side.]

Allegedly, [he answers, watching her closely.] You need someone shot?

[Probably not, if she's a Jedi. But it's worth asking, if only to gauge her reaction.]

Edited 2020-03-14 00:42 (UTC)

No, no. [ Rey shakes her head, stepping up to the Mandalorian proper. Staring at the helmeted face with a curious tilt of her head. ] Just an observation, I don't see a lot of people walking around in full armor.

[ ... anyways, she has a lightsaber on her belt and the force that can be called to her in only a moment. She can handle it! ] Bit overdressed for a library, yeah?

[As she steps up, Fett finally turns completely away from the bookshelf, now facing her squarely. Usually, his full attention is enough to stop people in their tracks.]

No one’s complained.

[No one is foolish enough to. Fett’s helmet tips just slightly to indicate the lightsaber by the woman’s side.]

You don’t look like a Sith.

[And during his time in their galaxy, that was a death sentence if you were holding a lightsaber.]

[ He's taller than her, armor making him seem more so; but Rey has faced Kylo Ren at his worst and she's not going to be frightened here. She looks up at him, chin raised. Her hand strays to the hilt at her side as he seems to glance at it. ]

I carry a lightsaber, but I am no Sith.

[ She knows that the Jedi were all but gone before Luke, likely someone like her would've been hunted down ... ]

And we are not in our own galaxy, so I would prefer not to bring those quarrels here.

[Fett watches her hand drift closer to her lightsaber—a simple gesture, but one that makes his fingers twitch anyway. It’s so very much like a Jedi to claim peaceful intent while reaching for a weapon.]

If you have no quarrel, then state your business and go.

[Perhaps she’d expected a civil cultural exchange? Fett’s the wrong person for that. If she wants a Mandalorian who can play nice with Jedi, she can go find Rex.]

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[open] Take a look, it's in a book!

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