"Do I even want to know what you're looking for this time," Doc griped, watching the Miralukan rub the back of her neck almost nervously as she sat up. "Last time you dragged your arse down to my office, you were looking for something to take down a pesky Darth." He watched and then sighed as his almost-question earned him a lifted brow. Doc had worked with Book - or whatever name she was using, he tended to keep track of them as best as he could- for more years than she'd been obviously on Nar. "Kriff the stars lady, you're going to end up gutted on the street if you keep these habits up. They were cute when I first saw you dotting around on Nar but you're not the greenhorn you were then. Keep this up with your talents for trouble and you're going to end up kissing dirt on a basis a lot longer than two weeks."
Doc'd known the former Jedi back when she was still a Jedi, so he had seen her change over the years. He wasn't sure he liked or approved of every change but Book had managed to at least keep him entertained and challenged. And when she stopped by now, after she dropped the robed look, he generally was at least more amused. Not always. "Right, put that hand under the scope now so I can take a look at it too," he ordered, watching her clench and unclench it at least half a dozen times. "And if you don't want to draw attention to whatever you're getting used to, you damned well better stop that habit of flexing it like you think it shouldn't work right."
It probably spoke more to their relationship that Book actually complied with his order rather than grumbled, Doc taking a projection and scan of the work before whistling softly. "That's a mighty fine piece of replacement you got, lady." He reached a hand out and although he noticed Book's hand dropped immediately for a weapon he didn't seem concerned by that, instead looking happy she'd finally, finally gotten into the habit. "Keep that awareness up around even your friends and I'll stop worrying about you living in whatever sector you hole up in now and then," he said dismissively. He turned her hand over, forcing each finger to move then making a fist with her hand as if playing with a doll.
That thought line suddenly made the woman freeze, stock still as she lifted her head and looked past the Doc, staring at the screen. Doc didn't know how she saw it, or what she saw when she looked at it - she'd turned down his offer of help with occulars, years ago, and then told him to never make the offer again. It'd been the first time the then-Jedi had ever said something quietly, with just a hint of an accent. She'd shifted her footing too, a slight crouch that for once made him think she could do more than just lift him up like a box with that woobly Force. He'd smiled, nodded, and then they'd had drinks.
"Whatever it is you keep looking for on that readout and scan of your spine, Book, you ain't going to see it. There's nothing there." He didn't flinch as she suddenly pulled her hand back and stood up, scooting his chair out of the way as she slid off the exam table. "So you want to tell me what it is got you so worried?" He paused then turned his head. His - now former - droid was a mess and tangle of metal, sparking, from where Book had left it. The bugger had rounded the corner, started to speak and he'd never seen Book look... well, he didn't know if she was more frightened or determined at that instant. Either way, his droid was a tanlge of wires and she'd stood still a minute before pulling out a cred-chip and offering it to him. He knew her at least, it'd pay for a new droid. "...or why you offed poor Bee-ee-sty?"
"If there's nothing there then it's just a fluke," he heard Book mutter and he sighed. Pleasantries were pretty short after that - she was showing ever inclination to put foot to pavement that she always did when she had something on her mind - but Doc was all right with that. She gave him promises that she'd stop by for more than a favor, but he knew the smile she had, and he gave her promises to cut back on the spice and the booze. neither of them really meant it, but friends sometimes lied to each other when they knew it was just words. She waited until she was gone before returning to look at the scans he'd taken, marveling at the skill on the work on her hand and wondering just what she was so worried about.
----
Hands deep in her pockets she shook her head. She'd spent hours chatting and stalking Nar so far and the desire to go just a little more was palpable, a way to fight off the slight headache she'd started to sport after the panic with the droid. She tried to calm her heartrate down, feeling the pain ease and she paused a moment at that. that sent her thoughts starting down the manka cat's den and she felt a squeeze of panic which lead to a slow build of that damned headache which made her lean against a wall, gritting her teeth before she shook her head to clear it. accept the pain, embrace it, ease it she repeated to herself, eventually the headache starting to fade to a mere echo of her heartbeat behind her temples.
She wasn't... liking that. Maybe when she sat down with Llinos - the next person she promised to talk to - in a span of hours it'd be all right.And if not, she could ask that doctor to take a peek. She'd brushed off the concern easily - it was much easier to do that when neither Llinos or Wemrys had seen how she'd looked when everyone had gotten out of the compound. It might've been why Sriia was a little more... polite on the subject. That and Book had the feeling that when she told Sriia she'd made him mad enough, she understood.
Of course she did. She knew exactly what Book meant by that statement. Kalakh seemed to grasp some part of it too, but the stilted phrasing and habits of that woman made her have to stop again as she thought about them. It was getting ridiculous and nothing about it made sense in the frequency... she'd never been prone to headaches before. Ever. Unless really, really, blindingly drunk.
"Kriff this," she muttered as she climbed into her hangar, holing up nestled in a tangle of wires and discarded datapads as she settled in on her current pet project. Hostility was.. a fear. But one she didn't have to be unprepared for. She could start by eliminating the frequencies she knew about... fingers tapped on the systems as she started to work. Ignore the Hutt's signals. That was a familiar frequency flying on Nar again - ignore the Marran ones, then whitelist the frequencies from her own band of contacts... She shifted, looking for all the world like she'd curled up in a good holonovel instead of trying to work on finding some way of tracking what was, at the moment, driving most of her fear.
She knew herself. If she could track it, trace it, and observe it, she could conquer it. While it was nameless, it kept growing. The more droids, the more she panicked, the more her head pounded, and the more she slipped back to attacking instead of thinking. She needed her wits around her. So she needed to find a way to make herself feel... comfortable. Not around droids - she clinically gave herself a short amount of time rationally dealing with them and just KNEW that she was going to end up on the Anti Droid Aggressor List again - but just in general.
She shifted again as she started to tackle analyzing the stray frequencies she found, looking for onw that stretched around enough of the galaxy to match the speed the unit had been able to verify her claim of Torlem's location had been a lie.
She frowned while rubbing the back of her neck again self-consciously, a prickle of unease before she let out a shallow breath. She needed to call Torlem and Ismire... and find a way to thank - and explain - to Calo-din. And then figure out... well, a lot. But first, droid. Find the droid. Who needed sleep, right?
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