If you are wondering where that sound is coming from (no, not that sound; the giggling sound), you don't have to look too far. It's coming from that table in the corner of the bar, the one that's got feet on it. Yes, the ones dangerously close to knocking a drink off the surface
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He picks it up. And quickly drinks some, of course. To minimise the amount that would be spilt later.
That's what makes him a hero.
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Without looking up, she says, "That was my drink. I could have a cold."
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"Well, as long as it's not Rodian flu."
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"Yes, that one. That's what I have. Yep."
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"So can I get your ship when you die?"
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She reaches the end of the page and takes the chance to look up and glare at him.
"Nope. That's going to somebody I actually like."
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Water is a drink.
He nods again. Wisely, this time. He is totally on the same wavelength, here.
"Right, right. Whereas people you love, like me, get the really astral stuff."
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"Nah. You can get one of my servodrivers."
That settled, she re-directs her attention to the magazine.
"Do you like it when girls wear silk gloves and rub your treasure trail, Janson?"
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"Now I can finally put up shelves!"
He pauses with the drink halfway to his mouth and squints at the magazine cover. Then at Shalla.
"Are you ... volunteering? Because you're doing it badly."
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Her fake grin drops into a cynical glance.
"Yeah, because exploring your treasure trail sounds like my dream come true. That is the reason I was asking, not because I wanted to know if this is really the kind of weird, super-specific stuff men think about."
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Marking her place carefully, she closes the magazine for the moment.
"It is the best way to entertain yourself while making certain men seem very, very strange. And girly, to be honest."
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