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After sussing out whether the guppy was a threat, Sara spent the next few hours of travel in silence. Bored, the Zeltron mercenary side-eyed the guppy as she squirmed against her restraints in apparent excitement, despite what waited for them. You don’t order or ask for supplies of any kind because you have a surplus. That’s something that Sara learned very quickly. That meant that Dac had a shortage. And that meant there was a reason; Sara suspected the reason was not a pleasant one. But she had a history of unpleasant surprises so that wasn’t anything new. Sara didn’t really do ‘happy.’ And because of her own struggles showing positive emotion, Sara was amazed by the amount of positive energy buzzing from the little fish. It was almost endearing; almost--and only for about five minutes. But after an hour, it was clear that the guppy ran on bubbles and wore her passion on the sleeves of her robe like a naive activist on some kind of wild stimulant. For a time the Zeltron even wondered whether or not the girl had an off switch somewhere. It was a pleasant reprieve from the silent void of space and the oppressive sting of negative emotions that Sara was accustomed to, but it wore thin quickly. By the time they arrived, there was a shallow indent of the ship’s steering yoke on her forehead. Sara silently cheered for the conclusion of their trip but wore a mask of indifference that was betrayed only by the indent that still stood out on her red skin. When no stevedores - droid or otherwise came to assist them - Sara’s brow furrowed. Instinctively, her right hand slipped beneath her coat and tightened over the grip of her slug-thrower. The air of the dock was thick with silence. It was a nice change that the army of miscellany that assaulted her at every port of call was gone, but something was very clearly up. But the guppy was moving. So if she was moving, Sara needed to move. Sara helped her load the sled, but her amber eyes never left the empty spaceport. This does not bode well… __________________________ As they rounded the corner toward the clinic, a swarm of angry hornets began to sting the underside of Sara’s scalp, causing her to wince and almost drop her side of the sled. Pfassk. Whoever thought it was nice to make all Zeltron’s empathetic needed a good boot upside their goofy head. She’d struggled through worse, but every step toward the clinic poked the hornets, turning up their aggression until they hit well beyond a reasonable cap, which kept her occupied. And while Sara could physically see where they were both going, she felt detached from everything. She completely missed the guppy writing both of them off as Jedi. And she almost missed being handed a case of bacta and some hygienic protective equipment. “I’m better at making wounds… actually.” Sara said, groggily, her head filled with icy sorrow, fiery pain, spiky anger, acrid envy, and a wickedly explosive gray stew of other emotions all at the same time.”But I might be able to make something work. I’m getting paid right?” Sara winced. She contemplated the amassed victims and thanked whatever deity that would deign to bless her that she had an amazing immune system. But this was a disaster. How could they possibly make a dent? Sara… What did you get yourself into?

"Looks like you owe me a drink, stranger." Dhon is a bit startled as the random woman reveals herself. He looks overs both of his shoulders before turning back towards her with a frown. "And you are?" "Operative Dusk at your service. My name doesn't match, but it works. It was given to me due to how I shine beneath the moonlight... or at least part of it." Dhon mumbles under his breath in response, "Well, I don't know if I'd go that--" "So they tell me that you're here to deliver the belongings of an operative. Which operative do you speak of?" "Listen here, Twilight. First of all, for all I know, you are a tall Jawa with a lisp because well," he motions towards his mouth as he wiggles his index finger. "That definitely doesn't sound that proper basic and obviously you had a hood. So for all I know, you are what Jawas really look like under their hoods and you kick out the midgets of your kind to fend for themselves with their little midget part salvaging colonies... Dhon pauses to think for a second before pulling at the braided hair on his chin, "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen-seen a Jawa. So I might be on to something. Funny thing, though. Get this. The operative I'm referring to was supposedly killed by a Jawa! Crazy coincidence, right!" Dhon shruggles and raises the Mandalorian helmet and wiggles it a little in the air, "Didn't know we had a deep uncover operative working for the Mandalorians. This girl is crazy! Like seriously. But good at her job I take it? She's got this flower name. I keep forgetting it. Hold on a second..." Dhon twists the helmet and looks on the back of the helmet where the former Watcher of the Link left a piece of tape and a name, "Rose Car-eye-Aye-dus. I think I'm pronouncing that right. I don't know what her fancy operative name is but I do have her agent ID number written down on a piece of paper if that helps any." As he finally stops long enough to let the operative speak, Dhon stabs his honor sword into the ground and pulls a small slip of paper out of the utility belt around his waist and offers it to Dusk. The code Ro found and gave him was authentic as far as either of them could tell and it had led them this far, so Dhon is confident that offering the information might help clear up any further questions regarding who this "Rose" person might be. ___