Ciphered Holos

She felt it was every sort of ironic that she'd ducked war crimes charges only to actually get landed with treason.

Aran knew that she should feel quite comforted that it did (in a very odd way) confirm her citizenship in the Republic. She paused in the middle of her recitation of the Nerf-skinned-Knee Baker's Son (banned on two planets for lewd lyrics and frowned upon in polite society for being licentious) and cocked her head, listening before she finished the verse.

She'd thought about asking for her holocall for a lawyer but realized it wouldn't exactly look good that the only ones she knew were Sith. One was quite insane. She figured one was also dead - he'd been with Eyes after all, that meant he prolly was dead. But she figured she was going to get a public attorney once due process kicked in.

Which meant, by her reckoning, she was going to be stuck in here for... a while.

She slumped on the bench in her little cell (bolted or welded she couldn't quite tell) and tried to run a finger nail on the stun cuffs to break them. Which, just as it hadn't worked since she'd woken up, resulted in a string of curses and nothing more than that.

If she got out she was going to punch the kriff out of Ranai.

"All right," she muttered softly, then she made a sound from the back of her throat, giving the wall a mutinous kick. It'd be bloody stupid for the cell to not be wired or monitored.

"I know every last verse of the Harlot and the Kath-Hound," she declared instead. From somewhere outside her cell she heard a groan. Whispers and then there was another groan, and the woman smirked to herself.

Ah, someone knew the tune.

She settled onto the bench as comfortably as she could and with a finger wiggle in the air to set time for herself she started to sing. The tune started off as politely as any bawdy ballad could but in a few more verses from the start she knew it started to go bawdy. Then it got raunchy. THEN it got to be a tune mothers put hands over their children's ears to avoid them from hearing it. Then when she got to the part being sung by the Kath Hound it'd just be downright odd because it certainly wasn't in Basic there.

She used the song as a means to keep herself distracted and grounded, ignoring the thumps from whoever was in the cell next to her. She needed to get out of the damned cell, get off the planet and until the Barge business was dealt with and she could be honest?

It looked like she really did need to relocate.

At least this might help my credibility... kriff if I know how the... She tossed her mind back while singing, hands making expressive gestures as she illustrated the motions she was currently describing, to recall the meeting on Alderaan.

The contract actually looked like right up Sanguine's alley. Someone supposedly from the Empire needing 'hits' taken out on key nobles and politicians to allow the Imperial invasion to work more smoothly. She'd taken the offer on a 'need to know more details' basis so she could figure out the targets and get them better protection. She'd sacrifice some of her staff, in a heartbeat, and pay the rest handsomely for a failed mission. She didn't usually go quite so blatantly pro-Republic in front of them but she'd do her damnest to protect the Republic if she could.

Then it'd been Ranai waiting for her, not some 'taki like she'd been told and she'd not run. Her voice rose in anger (the Kath Hound was describing something, so it worked) and she mentally gave herself a kick for not having a company asset or two with her. Or a cloaking field. Or being anywhere skilled enough to fade in the Force. She'd thought the damned cantina was filled with drunken patrons but no, the immediate press of people she'd failed to notice or count as a possible threat had been... well, a threat.

Getting tackled by the woman had thrown her off balance. And it'd rolled down hill from there - she was not in the habit of actively purging, and it'd acted too fast for her to pull the toxin out. She'd had enough impressions of noise, putting whatever grip on the world she had a-kilter, before it'd slumped sideways. A search of her person had turned up everything confiscated and she was certain her favourite coat was nowhere near her current room.

Nor were her weapons, datapad... nothing. While she caterwauled (to increasing cries to stop the torture) she made a few vows. One, she'd sing the Damned Jedi Song next. Two, she was going to consider paying Ranai and whoever helped her, if she could find them out, back.

She just had to get out.