Crossed Wires

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

For most members of the Alliance SpecForce the move to Bothawui had been unexpected and sudden. Thankfully most had managed to see that footlockers with their most basic amenities were able to come along. Sadly these typically contained a few changed in clothing, maybe whatever contraband one could slip in, but for the most part personal items were in limbo. Charles didn't mind for the most part, she'd gotten used to wearing off-duty fatigues and had to admit that everything she didn't have was rather frivolous. Missions had been coming and going so quickly that there hadn't been much thought for hobbies and down-time.

But now that had changed. Ever since the botched mission, the General's looking in on it, and the moving around of several members of Dorn, there had been silence. No plans. No missions. Charles had secretly hoped she would hear from Intel, that maybe Starborn and her would be able to team up on something dangerous enough to keep her mind from getting bored, but there was no such luck. So that left boredom that even every day routine and training couldn't soften.

Then had come payday. It had taken Command a bit to get everything in order so when the pay had come, it had come good. Most had run off to the local bars to either pay off their tabs, start new ones, or somehow manage both while killing more braincells than any CO would have approved of. Charles had been planning on joining... and then had come Xander.

Her brother had the grand idea of going shopping. Charles figured she could stand to pick up a few things that were sorely missed and she did have to admit that it might be nice to wear something other than olive drab every once in a while. The decision to go had been moderately reluctant (Who needed hobbies when you could spend a few hours in the gym, dissemble and resemble a rifle for a while, and....oh who was she kidding?) but in the end she had gone.

If nothing else, it was a chance to spend some time with her brother where she probably wouldn't find some need to cause him physical harm. Off-duty time was perfect for attempting to repair their sibling relationship and Charles, although stubborn, knew damn well the benefits of not wanting to kill her brother.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Someone was going to pay.

Well, granted, the Rebel Alliance had already paid. Not much, mind you, but what with the danger money he'd picked up on the last few missions, and the fact that he didn't exactly need to pay for meals and rent, it actually worked out pretty respectable, all things considered; especially when you bore in mind the fact that all you really had to spend it on was booze and whores.

But no. It wasn't financial payment that someone was required to make. It was a... different... kind...

His mind stumbled, not in any fit shape to follow a logical train of thought through to it's conclusion. His head felt like someone had detonated a supernova inside his skull, then scooped up the ionized debris - with a coating of dirt and grit from the floor - and just dumped it right back on inside his cranium. He felt dull, and squishy, and scratchy, and the lights were too bright, and it ached, and damn, he could hardly remember anything that had happened in the bar the night before.

Frankly, he felt like utter crap. He'd almost considered spending the next week passed out while he recovered, but he was pretty sure SpecForce would frown on that sort of thing, even if no one else really cared. So instead, he'd opted for the two past times that almost never failed to make him feel better: retail therapy, and getting under Lottie's skin.

"Seriously, sis," he continued, in the middle of some sort of slightly slurred and rambling explanation; Lottie probably didn't notice the difference, given how she was too dumb to understand half the words he said at the best of times anyhow. "This is an entire culture - an entire fashion industry - designed for midget people like you."

"Hell -" He hesitated, a sidelong glance sizing up his sister. "- you might even qualify as tall around here. Usually takes Squibs and Sullustans for that, huh?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Of course... hanging around with your brother did have its drawbacks. Since joining the Rebellion Xander had been on a nonstop mission to attempt to catch up on all the abuse he had missed dishing out on her during their years apart and today seemed like it was going to be double duty. Great.

She had long since given up on attempting to argue that she was in line with the average height for a human female. It didn't matter anyway, she was shorter than he was. Always would be.

"You can worry about attempting to find the tall section for me later. 'Freakishly huge' will be our first priority with you being unable to live without your summer wardrobe. The hells did you end up wearing last night anyway? Is that the reason you decided to drink yourself to-the-pain?" Everything was deadpan, without much gusto.

It didn't matter what she was saying, it was just going to be fuel for her brother's sharp wit. Charles had noticed he was in pretty bad shape, and having had that Oh gods, I'm alive? Someone quick kill me now hangover was something she had experienced more than just once. She almost felt sympathy for him.

Of course the fact the market was outdoors meant the sun would be blaring down on them, and the fact everyone had just gotten paid meant it would have a decent crowd. And a crowd like that made a good amount of noise.

Charles didn't care if Xander had noticed that malicious little smile she had when they had left the compound that day. He would have his fun jabbing at her at every opportunity and she would have her fun by well... just watching him.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Freakishly huge?

Xander was in the midsts of giggling at the immature innuendo latent at that phrase, and wasn't paying much attention to anything Lottie was saying or doing - concentrating on more than one train of thought at the same time seemed to be an ability that was elluding him this morning.

Her mention of his wardrobe was enough to tumble a brief strand of focus across the front of his mind however, and he turned a little to glance fully in her direction, peering over the top of the sunglasses he'd plucked from the face of an unsuspecting Devaronian on his way out of quarters this morning.

"Some of us," he muttered back, a hint of reproach in his voice, "Look fantastic whatever we wear. We don't need fancy clothes to create the illusion of better looks, or to act as a crutch." He cupped his hands absent-mindedly around his chest. "Or any other kind of support infrastructure, for that matter."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Considering my job... I think I'm just fine, thank you." A small laugh glance was given to her brother before she shrugged her shoulders and even went so far as to motion towards her chest.

"Any bigger and they'd just get in the way of all that sneaking around they have me do. Not everyone can be temporary morale boosting eye candy for the troops that prances around in a skin-tight body glove." Charles smirked. "Which is why I didn't get transferred."

Not nice, not nice at all. But when you couldn't direct insults at the person you were with without knowing you'd be outdone ten-fold...well, you had to go elsewhere.

Another glance was cast in Xander's direction. "You didn't really tell me how last night went anyway. So, with that hangover...amazingly awesome or horribly bad?"

[Alexander Tur'enne]

What little colour had managed to creep into Xander's face tumbled rapidly away; his eyes snatched his gaze elsewhere, hiding behind the protective cover of his shades. If the subtle jab at Captain Tallen hadn't been enough to make him feel uncomfortable - if he was honest, he felt more than a little responsible; and Charlie hadn't exactly been lacking in provocation, truth be told - then mention of the night before certainly did the job.

Last night had been when he met Maxx, and, well -

Yeah. She definately won't want to hear about that.

His eyes swept the area ahead, searching for something - anything - that might serve as a viable distraction. The market stalls that lined the street were filled with various wares from all across the Sector, not to mention the Alliance worlds beyond; but so far they were a billion and one different varieties of fruit or vegetable, maybe with the odd bread type product thrown in for good measure. Nothing that Xander could be all Oh, hey. Look! about.

Five foot something of solice caught his eye amongst the swarm of bodies that were already beginning to choke the streat ahead. He almost sighed in his relief as he glanced back at Lottie, gesturing in the appropriate direction. "Hey, isn't that the Major?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Nice deflection." The slightly sing-song tone she used let it be instantly aware that Xander wasn't totally free from answering the question, but for now he'd successfully avoided answering.

He wasn't lying though, standing not too far away at one of the marketplace's booths was indeed Glayde. All things considered she shouldn't have been too surprised to see that he had answered the same call that many others had in the possibility of obtaining something aside from standard military rations. But still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Maybe it was that odd realization that - Yes, Charles, your CO is a normal person. Of course, some of the NCOs may have felt the same way about her and any other officer. It was something she had never quite understood, perhaps because every group she had been a part of in SpecForce had always been anything but ordinary.

"Don't tell me you want to go see what he's here for. Something tells me its hardly black-mail worthy."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

An eyebrow ached up Xander's forehead, and while his eyes were hidden, he still managed to express indignance in the disguised look he threw in her direction. "I'm hung over, not blind," he grunted, letting the look linger for a few moments longer before he swept his gaze back in Glayde's direction.

He peered past the crowds to the market stall where he seemed to be busily negotiating with a trader. A frown drifted across his features. "Looks like farrberries, sunfruit, vweilu nuts and -" His eyebrows climbed higher; a hint of a rueful smile creeping onto his lips. "Why Major, you sly dog." The smile flourished a little more as he flicked his glance in Charlotte's direction. "He's getting the ingredients for a Neuvian Sundae: one of the most expensive, indulgent, and not-to-mention romantic desserts that you can make."

He offered a casual shrug. "I used to make it for Laura, before -"

He trailed off, another glance thrown in Lottie's direction, a frown forming on his features. "What's the matter - can't see over all the people?" He laced his fingers together, and offered them in her direction. "I can give you a leg up so you can sit on my shoulders, if you want."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

A bemused "tsh" left her, as she scoffed at his suggestion. "And give away our position?"

Okay, she had to admit... she was curious. As far as Charles knew the Major didn't have anyone to make romantic desserts for. She may have guessed it was some sort of going-away-party for Tallen, but the Captain had already left. The thought of that new Dirge girl was a possibility... and the guilty pleasure of wondering if it was some nice Bothan lady almost brought a laugh out of her.

The thought was entertained for a few more brief moments before she rolled her eyes.

"Come on, let's see if any of these people know how to make a decent home-brew. Hair of the dog or something..." Charles attempted to hide the smirk at her own pun.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"Hair of the -"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. Francis could come up with a better pun than that, and he's a fish." He hesitated for a beat. "And he's dead."

He sighed, shaking his head as Charlotte tried to steer their path away from the Major and off into the crowd; but Xander wasn't having it. His hand lanced out, snagging Charlotte by the forearm, and dragging her just like he did when she was little, and their mother wanted him to take little Snottie Lottie to buy something feminine and lady like for some sort of posh party type engagement of their father's, which the children would be expected to make an appearence at for all of ten minutes before being hustled off to bed.

A wave of whistful fondness washed over Xander as he remembered those parties; or more specifically, the hours afterwards, when their parents let them share the room; let them raid the linen closet and the box room, and convert Xander's bedroom into a fortress, or a military encampment, or a secret jungle outpost, or whatever it was that tiny tom-boy Charlotte felt like playing that night, and Xander felt like playing along with. Emergency rations - junk food that their father smuggled in without their mother knowing - sent them into an insane sugar high; and they giggled, and joked around, and watched holomovies on that crappy little portable projector that Xander had picked up at a junk sale, and dad had helped him fix; and then they crashed out, convinced it was in the super-early small hours of the morning, when in fact it was only an hour or so past their normal bed time.

Xander and Lottie had their rough patches over the years; more rough than smooth, truth be told. But those nights were perfect. If every memory of all his life had to be stripped away bar one, that would be the one he'd cling onto so tightly that it would make his fingers bleed.

He let out a contented sigh, and then shoved Charlotte in front of him, the troublesome two-some forming a barrier between Glayde and wherever it was he planned on going. "Not another step, Major. This is a -" He looked at Charles, hoping for some help or inspiration. She just glared. His mind fumbled for something on it's own. "- random commerce inspection." He pondered the makeshift excuse, and offered a curt nod to reinforce his point. "What's in the bag, sir?"

[John Glayde]

Lost inside the depths of his mind, Glayde didn't notice the presence of the two Tur'enne's until he'd nearly collided with them, and found his eyes absently focused on somewhere completely inappropriate. He wrenched them up swiftly, frowning into the face of Xander, his expression shifting from confused to bemused to amused as the Specialist spoke.

Ordinarily, he'd be expected to stamp out such informal behaviour among the members of his team: SpecForce soldiers weren't meant to tolerate that kind of attitude. However, Dorn Force was something different - different in both good and bad ways, admittedly - and it had been necessary for an attitude not unlike a starfighter squadron to cultivate itself. We certainly have the sexual exploits of a fighter squadron, he mused, ruefully.

"Charlotte, Alexander," he offered, with a nod of greeting to each. His mind reverted to forenames rather than surnames or ranks in the interests of sounding relaxed and informal - and because "Tur'enne, Tur'enne," would have just sounded dumb - but he'd completely missed the step of contracting them into something less formal. He resisted the urge to wince, and instead offered a warm smile, just to reinforce the fact that he was being friendly. "Just some culinary supplies," he responded casually, raising the bag ever so slightly for emphasis.

His gaze shifted to Charles for a moment, a slight hint of a frown forming. "Speaking of - can I borrow you for a minute?" He lanced Xander with a pointed look. "In private, if that's alright with Mr Morning After."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

The first thing Charles had to do was give her brother that look. The one that clearly stated that if he were to make some sort of smart ass comment or even look at her funny in that very moment: he ran the very real risk of waking up the next morning with his tongue removed.

With that out of the way, however, she could turn back to the Major, who was still 'The Major' in her head no matter what he had just called her and Xander. Not that it really changed how she spoke to him.

"Of course. I'm sure Morning After Boy can find a remedy without me for a bit." The smile she gave her brother was sickly-sweet.

It was strange how her mind worked, at that moment all she could figure was that the Major was finally going to give her a quick rundown on some assignment that would alleviate the boredom. It refused to accept that 'Speaking of' that had followed mention of what exactly the Major had been purchasing.

[John Glayde]

Glayde frowned, trying to muster something appropriate to say. When it came to work, he was an elloquent professional; but small talk wasn't exactly his thing. He scrubbed his free hand across his jaw; with so much downtime lined up for him and his team - at least until he finished finding replacements for everyone that the General had shuffled around - he'd cut himself a break, but now was feeling decidedly rugged and unpresentable.

He snatched his arm down; forced himself to meet Charlotte's gaze with at least a modicombe of confidence and determination. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, Charlotte," he said, choosing his words carefully. He glanced around, gesturing at his surroundings. "But this isn't really the best place."

He offered a slight shrug. "My quarters; say, twenty-hundred? I'll even cook you something." He brandished the bag for gentle emphasis. "I'm no gormet chef, but it'll be a damn sight better than whatever they're serving in the mess tonight."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

It didn't take long for her mind to start going into spirals over what exactly it could be that the Major wanted to see her for. Or why it warranted a home-cooked meal. All that showed through was a small quirk of her head and a half smile.

"Sure. I'd be downright stupid to refuse an offer like that. Can't remember the last time I had something that wasn't prepared en mass and had to wait in line for." Her answer was carefully pitched in volume, loud enough to make it over the general sounds of the marketplace, though soft enough that if her brother was no-doubt standing nearby he wouldn't be able to make out much of it.

Hell, Charles had even considered using a few hand signals instead of speaking the reply since she was sure Xander hadn't learned all the intricacies of that sort of thing. Of course, that would have tipped him off all the more. Though despite her conscious need to keep her brother's teasing down to a minimum, she couldn't think much of the whole going-to-the-Major's-later-for-dinner thing without tying it back to work. Admittedly, some part of her almost hoped that Glayde was going to brief her on some stupidly suicidal mission that he was sending her on. That sort of thing made sense to be delivered in a more personal setting. Cool.

"So, your quarters, twenty-hundred..." The repeating of the information was done without much thought as Charles made the mental note stick. She smiled again and shrugged a shoulder for no particular reason other than it felt right to do so. "I'll be there."

[John Glayde]

A strange mix of emotions flashed momentarily across Glayde's face - was that relief? Happiness? Panic? A barely suppressed grin?

He quelled them all before they had the opportunity to register. "Excellent," he said, with a slight smile and a nod of aknowledgement. An awkward silence threatened to descend as his eyes flitted briefly away and back, wondering what more there was to say. He reinforced his smile; echoed the lopsided shrug that Charlotte had offered moments before. "I guess I'd better go get cooking then," he offered, brandishing his bag of ingredients a little for emphasis.

His first few steps were backwards, retreating into the crowd. "Twenty-hundred hours," he added as a parting statement, a confirmation for himself as much as for Tur'enne. And then, without another word, he turned on his heel, and disappeared.

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Xander watched in stunned silence. It was like some kind of freaky nature documentary, only with his sister, instead of an animal type creature. He only vaguely picked up a few words from their conversation, his skills at lip-reading and covert observation letting him down; combined with the fact that his attempts to watch them while casually pretending to purchase things from a nearby stall were severely hampered by the actual act of purchasing things from a nearby stall.

Even so, he picked up enough for his purposes. And of course, his 'purposes' were causing as much frustration and irritation to his younger sister has possible. "And so," he said softly as he stepped up behind her, keeping his voice low and strangely alluring, like the presenters on those nature holodocs always seemed to. "The adult Commando has made his first move, and his courtship of the female has begun."

A grin split across his face. "Got yourself a date with the Major, huh?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

"Huh?" She couldn't have faked the complete confusion in her voice in that moment.

Her mind had to back pedal quickly, forcing her to speak up again before Xander could make some cruel comment about her not understanding basic, or being too slow to get the gist of what he was saying, or well... any other damn mean thing he could think of.

"Frink you talking about, 'a date'?" A small tsch accompanied the slightly disgusted look she pulled. "Some sort of mission briefing or something. No one goes on dates around here and certainly not with their CO."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Growing up, Xander had always been the smart one. Well, okay. Mom and dad were pretty smart. When Xander was pounding his way through some lengthy explanation of some awesome new scientific theory that he'd been reading about, dad was smart enough to at least follow along vaguely, and ask the odd half-intelligent question so that Xander could explain those particular concepts in more depth. And when it came to computers, mom had picked up enough during her days with CorSec to handle most of the problems that a data terminal could throw her way - she and Xander had a running eyeroll joke whenever dad was flustered and bumbling because the computer wasn't quite doing what he wanted it to.

Lottie on the other hand wasn't quite so brilliantly minded. She wasn't stupid, or anything. Hell, she was pretty smart, when she set her mind to it. Unfortunately, most of the time she was too impatient to actually engage the cognative cogs in her brain, and Xander had grown accustomed to having to explain everything at a snails pace for her, to make sure she understood each itsy bitsy tiny little detail.

Apparently in this instance, Xander's explanation skills had atrophied; probably because he was used to being surrounded by scientists and weapons designers with an intelligence level roughly in the same ballpark as his. Despite the months with Dorn, surrounded by soldiers with their sharp wits but dull minds, he hadn't managed to recalibrate his expectations yet.

"Sure. It's a harmless mission briefing, for which the Major is going to the effort of cooking a fancy meal, and preparing a romantic dessert. This being the same Major who seems to be bending over backwards to make you happy lately, what with that whole Cresh thing." He shook his head and sighed. "Use your brain, Squib. Not even Glayde is enough of a holomovie nice guy to do that for purely altruistic reasons."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Her mind kicked into full denial mode. It just didn't make sense. No way would the Major overstep bounds like that... would he?

"I think you've watched one too many holodramas, Xan. He just said he'd be cooking, that fancy stuff could be for tomorrow night or something." Her hand waved slightly as if trying to brush off the accusations, heavens knew that words alone never really got through to her brother.

"Besides, you've told me a million times how hideously deformed I am and considering what I've seen of the Major's past... mutant midget doesn't exactly seem like his type." It was obvious by her tone that Charles didn't exactly believe what she was saying, there was a harsh spike of sarcasm that laced the entire thing.

There was a small seed of doubt that had been planted though. Glayde had been awfully nice to her lately. Which meant that the whole damn thing was going to be really awkward if he actually meant for it to be a date and it wasn't actually some sort of military business.

Her mind wasn't quite racing, but it was taking a nice leisurely stroll into the realm of attempting to contact the Major and find out exactly what the nature of the dinner was going to be. Maybe even asking if he'd like to go somewhere more... public.

The simple matter that her mind was even headed in that direction was Xander's fault. Charles looked away from some garish piece of clothing she'd someone zoned out on as she attempted to rationalize the whole thing. Which brought her back to looking at her brother. Yep, this was his doing.

"You're such an ass."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

Ordinarily, Xander would have taken Lottie's statement, and converted it into some sort of compliment of his own pretty much perfectly sculpted posterior. The fact that he made the conscious effort not to filled him with a small amount of pride, and with the sensation that he'd grown as a person.

Taking his uncharacteristic restraint further, he allowed a sigh to escape from him. "Make fun of me for this and I'll kill you," he warned, "But truth told, calling you a hideous mutant troll might have been a bit of an exaggeration. I mean -" He stumbled, struggling to phrase the awkward half compliment. "- you're not exactly that bad looking; you've got mom's looks and stuff. You look... nice, you know?"

He winced, failing miserably at his attempt at sibling flattery. Knee-jerk reactions kicking in, a hint of a wry smile emerged amongst his features. "Besides, with Captain Hellcat gone, it's not like he's swimming in alternative options." He hesitated, cocking his head to the side slightly, and flashing Lottie a wink. "Not unless he plans on 'defecting', anyhow."