Bathing was not something Yana often had the luxury of enjoying. Even knowing that Kalen Dain was likely waiting impatiently for her, she took her time, savoring the hot water, the actual soap, the real shampoo, the towels that were more fluff than sandpaper. And clean clothes. They might not have been the most flattering, but she was comfortable as she walked out of the bathhouse, dressed in dark pants and a loose blue shirt beneath a cropped jacket. Her mouth was busy holding a couple of pins as she walked, hands busy twisting her dry hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.
It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed such a luxury as this, not only scrubbing himself clean but trimming his hair and beard. The only luxury better than a hot bath was a soft bed, and he took neither for granted. He was grateful, too, for the clean clothes, wondering how she'd managed to find something that not only fit him well but fit his sense of style, too. A Corellian-cut field jacket over equally drab brown military fatigues, his own black boots that they thankfully hadn't taken away from him. He'd never been much of a flashy dresser, preferring to blend whenever possible, but the cut and color of his clothes seemed to fit his face and personality well. The blaster pistol was re-strapped to his thigh, right where he liked it and where it was in easy reach. By the time he rejoined her, he was not only feeling better, but looking and smelling a lot better, too. Now if only he could get a hot meal and a soft bed for the night, he'd be all set.
Yana only looked up as she was placing the last pin in her hair, glad that only the bath-lady was looking at her in that moment. Her jaw actually dropped at the sight of Kalen Dain, looking better than she'd seen him thus far, even when they'd first been informed they were working together. "Well, kark me," she declared, letting her eyes look him over with leisurely enjoyment as her hands fell to her hips. "Don't you look good enough to eat? Shame you already requested dinner, really."
He snorted again at her remark, which he presumed to be teasing. "Food first, sex later," he said, though it wasn't a promise. It was the first time she'd looked at him like that though, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Was it still guilt she was feeling, or had she finally remembered that she was a woman and noticed that he was a man?
"Got your priorities straight, obviously," she snorted with laughter, dropping her hands as she moved closer. "C'mon." As they moved back out onto the mid-walkway, she ventured a question of her own. "What is it about being back here that makes you so tense?"
He hesitated in his answer, unsure if he trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Then again, she had come back for him, and it wasn't because of the bounty on his head, or so he assumed. "Posters with my face on them," he replied, letting her sort out the rest as he fell into step beside her, letting her lead the way.
"Gotcha. So not the seedy end of town, then." That was really all she had been asking for; a clue as to where he would rather not go in the Spaceport. "We're not going to Stars End, either. Hmm ..." She paused, stepping close to keep out of the way of passing traffic. "I guess it all depends what you fancy."
"It was a long time ago," he admitted, doubting that anyone here remembered his face anymore or had any posters tacked up with his likeness. Too many years had passed, and the Spaceport had never been a place with a long memory. He paused a moment to eye her while they stepped out of the way of traffic, wondering what she'd say if he told her he fancied her. "A steak with all the trimmings," he replied. No weird alien dishes with tentacles or eyeballs, but something that would stick to his ribs and fill the empty hole in his stomach.
"Good basic home cooking, gotcha." She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. "All right, this way." Again, her fingertips touched his arm as she moved away, the only indication that she was steering at all. The mid-walkway here had always been her favorite place in the Spaceport - not too snobby, not too seedy, filled with a mix of races and careers that made it easy to blend in. It still felt a little strange to be in the minority as a human, but at least she wasn't walking alone this time. "In here," she nodded to a lively cantina as they turned a corner. "Word of advice, don't eat the nuts in the red bowls."
He flicked a curious glance her way that asked why without actually asking, before following her inside. The place looked safe enough, but safe was a relative term here. His fingers unconsciously reached for his blaster pistol, just to make sure it was still there. Until he got paid and they parted ways, it was still his job to protect her against any and all threats.
She caught his glance, one corner of her mouth quirking upward in a teasing smirk. "Well, you could eat them," she admitted as they picked their way between tables toward the bar. "But you'd spend the next few hours in horrific pain before dying messily. They're for dextro-based life forms."
"Thanks for the warning," he told her, eyeing the nuts suspiciously and remembering what they looked like so that he didn't make that mistake in the future. He'd spent enough time in horrific pain the last few days.
Smirking at his expression, Yana leaned on the bar, tapping two fingers against the lit surface to get the tender's attention. She placed their order, gesturing to a free table set well back from the entrance, and paid, collecting the bottle she'd ordered with glasses before straightening. "After you."
She was certainly a woman who knew how to take charge and she seemed to know her well around here well enough to do so. He turned to eye the table, finding it acceptable, noting the exits before making his way there and pulling out a chair for her before claiming one for himself. He let his gaze travel slowly about the room, taking in the others there, but no one seemed to have taken an interest in their arrival.
"A gentleman as well, huh?" Yana thumped down into the seat he held out for her, already pouring out generous measures that smelled eye-wateringly alcoholic. "How come you didn't come over all gentlemanly until now?"
He shrugged, not really having a good answer for that. "How come you didn't come over all friendly until now?" he countered. Up until now, their relationship, for lack of a better word, had lacked warmth and camaraderie. Was it because the fact that the job was finished that had her relaxing or was she still just feeling guilty about leaving him behind? "You don't have to make it up to me, you know. It's just part of the job."
She sobered, pushing his glass over to him. For a long moment, she stared into her own, before knocking it back with a shudder. "There wouldn't have been a job, if it wasn't for me," she admitted reluctantly. "So ... make the most of it, because Trethin's going to want you to incriminate me."
"I knew the risks," he pointed out, arching a brow at the rest of what she was saying. "Incriminate you for what?" he asked, not following her. He'd been hired to protect her, plain and simple. He'd been given no other orders and no details as to why she needed protection. Creds were creds and so long as he wasn't being hired to assassinate someone, he was happy to do whatever necessary to collect them.
She poured another measure into her glass. "You weren't hired to protect me, you were hired to protect the cargo," she pointed out. "To make sure I did the job. You don't cross Trethin without suffering for it." This time, she sipped, letting the harsh alcohol burn down her throat.
"No," he said, leaning forward, his arms crossed on the table, counting her drinks. He'd yet to have one. "I was hired to protect you, to make sure nothing happened to you. My instructions were quite clear," he told her, though he was starting to see there was more going on here than he had thought. "Please tell me you didn't cross him," he said, eyeing her closely.