The Citadel Cantina is located on the second level of the Arcona Citadel. The bar itself is small on the surface, but possess an expansive selection thanks to a clever servos-operated storage system built into the underside of the bar. A bartender only need punch in what drink they require (other than the typical stock) and within a minute the bottle is distributed transparisteel display panels. Relaxed, soothing music plays over the speakers, and a big-screen display terminal with access to the holonet sits across from a series of comfortable lounge chairs and stools.

The Cantina is full-service and is manned by a gruff, one-eyed Rodian named Mick. Mick is a grumpy, former sergeant who served in the Arcona Armed Forces years and years ago. He goes about his business with a series of grunts, gestures, and monosyllabic dialogue. Though a man of few words, he is a genius of alcoholic beverages and mixology. Mick has a very strict rule about no fighting or brawling within the Cantina. The mess hall, on the other hand, is a different story.

The Cantina opens up into a dedicated mess-hall that can hold up to a hundred sentients before it starts to feel claustrophobic. Open at all hours, the mess-hall has been sanctioned as an acceptable area for members to settle aggressions and other frustrations. The tables are all firmly bolted into the halls floor to avoid being thrown over, and are crafted out of durable material that has held it’s own throughout the years. At the far end of the mess-hall there is a pair of double-doors that lead to the kitchen and storage area. The mess-hall is maintained by a full staff of droids, and occasionally a new recruit who has earned the ire of the Rollmaster. And sometimes even the Rollmaster himself, depending on the Shadow Lady's mood.

The Arconan Citadel Cantina was a popular watering hole for those that worked for the Shadow Clan. Many would stop in after their shift to partake in a quick drink and and to swap the latest gossip. The atmosphere was good, the company was better and the drinks were the best.

Of course, its location within the Arconan Citadel meant that strange incidents would occur and even stranger people would show up. The regulars had learned to ignore these events and people, as long as their drinks were not disturbed. So when a red-headed woman strode into the Cantina and began arguing with an empty table in the corner, hardly anyone batted an eyelash. The look of rage in her eyes and the lightsaber hanging from her belt were enough to convince them to mind their own business.

Lucine paused and glanced around. No one seemed to be staring, which was good. It would not do for people to think she had gone mad. She turned her attention back to the table. “Now, listen here, you little deviant. I have had enough of your antics. You will come out here this instant and return those to me at once!”

Her words were met with a high pitched chittering. It was accompanied by a faint skittering sound as the ID9 Seeker droid that was under the table moved deeper into the shadows. Lucine smiled wryly. “No, darling, you are not getting away. I have you cornered, and I am not leaving until I get back what belongs to me,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her lightsaber. “One way or another.”

“Mistress Vasano?” A booming voice caused the Sith to jump with surprise. She whirled to see a massive Chiss towering over her, looking down with a mixture of concern and confusion.

Lucine felt a blush spread across her cheeks at the sight of him. Memories of his chiseled features and rippling muscles had left her with more than one restless night, and she had hoped that their paths would cross again. Of course, it had to happen while I was sorting out that little pest. Just my luck.

“Strong!” she said with a brilliant smile as she reached up to touch her hair. To her relief, not a single strand was out of place despite the afternoon spent chasing a droid across the Citadel. “What a pleasant surprise! Do you come here often?”

“I must confess that I do enjoy the occasional drink here,” Strong replied. “But alas, I am here on business tonight. Have you seen an ID9 droid nearby? Master Bleu indicated that you might know of its whereabouts.”

“You are looking for that little cretin? Whatever for?” the Sith asked.

“Master Bleu asked me to retrieve it. Apparently, it is no longer sending transmissions, and will not respond to the return commands,” the Chiss rumbled.

“Is that so?” Lucine purred. “Well, you are in luck. It is right here, hiding under the table.”

Strong stooped to peer where she had indicated, and saw a single red photoreceptor glaring back at him. “Ah, excellent! Master Bleu will be most pleased to know that POR-7 has been recovered!”

“Hmm,” the Sith murmured, taking advantage of Strong's diverted attention to study the perfect lines of his biceps, visible despite the expert tailoring of his uniform. After a moment, she tore her eyes away, before adding, “But you have not caught the droid yet. It has proven to be quite slippery.”

“Might I suggest that you were taking the wrong approach? Allow me to try,” the Chiss said. He knelt and extended a hand toward the table. “POR-7, come here.”

The ID9 droid hesitated for a moment, before slowly inching toward Strong's outstretched hand. As it emerged from the shadows, it became apparent that it was clutching a scrap of cloth in its pincers. Closer inspection showed it to be a wispy piece of silk. “Are those—”

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Lucine said as her cheeks burned hotter. “I returned to find that menace rooting around in my clothing drawers yet again, and I have been chasing it across the Citadel ever since.” She sighed and shook her head. “I have lost more undergarments to that miscreant than I can count.”

“I see. Most dishonorable. I am sure it will be quite a relief to know it will soon be repaired.”

“Oh yes, quite a relief,” Lucine muttered, as she made a mental note to have another discussion with Kordath regarding her stance on droids in her home. As she watched, the droid continued to slowly inch forward in response to Strong's coaxing. “That is most impressive. You really seem to have a knack with it,” she said at last.

“It is but one of the many talents passed down through the Garmis line for generations!” Strong replied with no small amount of pride.

“Hmm,” the Sith said as she shifted to get a better view of both the Chiss and the droid. Her lips curved into a wicked smile as she added in a suggestive tone, “Perhaps we should get a drink after you have returned it to Kordath. I would love the opportunity to see more of your... talents.” When the Chiss glanced up at her with raised eyebrows, she was satisfied to see a purple blush staining his cheeks.

That momentary distraction was all the droid needed. With an indignant squeal, it darted forward to stab an electro-shock prod into the Chiss's outstretched hand. The shock it delivered was not enough to kill, but it did draw a yell of surprise from Strong. He tried to grab the droid with his other hand, but surprise and the lingering effects of the shock slowed his movements enough to allow it to jump out of the way. With a series of high pitched chirps that sounded decidedly like laughter, it lobbed the green silk into the mercenary's face before scuttling through the door into the mess hall.

“Well, there it goes,” the Sith said with a sigh. “Are you injured?”

“T'is but a scratch. But we must be after that... that...” Strong's words sputtered to a stop as he looked down to see what the droid had thrown at him. “Ah...” Hastily, he snatched them up and handed them to Lucine. “I, uh, I do believe these are yours.”

“Thank you,” Lucine murmured, noting with amusement just how purple the Chiss's cheeks had become. The underwear vanished into a hidden pocket of her cloak. Well now, this could be fun. “But you are right, let us hurry. It must not get away!”

The Chiss cleared his throat and averted his eyes in embarrassment, not quite catching the twitch of a smile on the redhead's fair features. His hand throbbed; he focused on that instead as he used his presence and bulk to clear the way through the cantina for himself and the Sith woman. They entered the mess hall, Lucine stepping around him to look around, using a light touch on his arm to alert him to her movements.

Good instincts. If I had spotted the droid before knowing she was there, it could have been quite the mishap, thought the mercenary. They'd had an unfortunate encounter not so long past upon Nar Shaddaa, one that he'd felt rather regretful about in retrospect. She proved to be both clever and resourceful then, surely she'll be of help tracking down Master Bleu's errant droid. Such a well-cultured woman shouldn’t have to be bothered by his surveillance units. It’s shameful!

"I don't see any sign of the little mechanical menace, darling. I'll be most displeased if it's given me the slip once more."

"I suggest we question those present! It could only have gone into the kitchens or out into the hall through one of the double doors, so someone must have seen it," rumbled Strong, nodding to himself and reaching out to lay his hand on the shoulder of an oblivious nearby Bith. The round-headed alien looked up in annoyance as its naval uniform was rumpled by the Chiss before its large eyes traveled up...and up. "Good sir, did you catch sight of a droid passing through here in quite a rush?"

Lucine didn't catch the sputtering naval rating's reply, taking several steps towards the kitchen, eyes narrowed in suspicion. She allowed herself a half smile as she heard a commotion from within, spotting a distressed cook through one of the serving windows in the wall. He appeared to be shouting at something at floor level and jumped out of view in alarm. The swinging kitchen door opened, and the ID9 unit appeared, suffering from a moment of indecision, red optical unit swinging back and forth as if it couldn't decide where to go next. The mechanical eye suddenly focused on her, and it let out a trilling sound that may have been excitement, before dropping low. She saw the droid huddle in on itself before springing sideways towards the doors leading to the hall, the tall Chiss suddenly giving pursuit.

Not to be one to allow the thieving little droid to get away so easily, she followed at a more dignified pace. The view from the back was most...curious, to her. In an entirely analytical manner, of course, she chided herself.

In the hall, Strong stood, head swiveling and annoyance clear on his chiseled features.

"Did it manage to get away once more, my dear?" her eyes scanned the hallway ceiling and walls, noting vents set in them. "My research suggests that variety of droid is capable of hovering around, perhaps it has fled into the ventilation system?"

The Chiss shook his head, eyes narrowed as he began to stalk down the hall. "Not Master Bleu's droids, Mistress Vasano. The," the large man sighed, "Skitters units have had those parts replaced to provide them with longer range communications. And recording capability, I understand."

"What? I thought they were just an early warning system! You mean to tell me that...that..." her face was white when Strong looked back to her.

"Madame Vasano?"

"Recording me!?" she hissed, stalking past the mercenary, unhooking her lightsaber hilt.

I'll skin the Ryn alive. The number of times that little POR-7 was hanging around my quarters while I was — death is too good an ending for him!

"You! Droid!" she snapped, before taking a breath and soothing over her nerves. The protocol unit she'd spoken to paused, turning its awkward, humanoid form to face her.

"Yes, miss? How may I be of service?"

"We're tracking a rogue ID9 unit, have you seen it?"

"Ah! Yes! A very rude probe droid, if I may say so. It went this way. Please, allow me to lead you and your impressively intimidating partner." The droid turned and began shuffling down a side corridor before Lucine could respond to the implications of 'partner'.

The pair stopped as the droid keyed a door, opening to darkness beyond.

"Ah, apologies, miss, sir, the lights are motion activated. Simply go on, and you should pick up that uncouth ID9 unit's trail."

"Very good!" boomed Strong, dropping a meaty hand on the droid's shoulder as he passed it, nearly knocking the protocol unit down. "We shall apprehend the metallic rapscallion and—"

The door shut behind them, and Strong let out a grunt when he ran into something before Lucine ran into him. A mechanical sound behind them suggested the door had locked, as well.

"I am so very sorry about this," came the muffled sound of the droid on the other side of the door. "That ID9 unit forced me into this false act, it threatened to, and I do apologize for using such language, 'forcibly interface with my photoreceptors.' Oh, I do apologize for the ruse! I am certain the cleaning units will release you in a few hours!"

"This is a shameful day for the house of Garmis," spoke Strong, his voice grave as he lifted his arms up and turned awkwardly in place. He lowered them slowly, before deciding to brace them against the walls when he felt them encounter something soft. Lucine's hair, he decided. "Tricked and trapped by droids. Outplayed by a mechanical mischief maker."

"It could have at least locked us in a closet with a light," the woman murmured, trying not to move herself. The cultured mercenary's proximity wasn't helping her come up with a plan.

"I fear I have failed you, Mistress Vasano, to allow such a simple ruse trap us in such a situation. Perhaps I can get the door open."

Strong began to feel along the walls, looking for the edge of the entrance, not aware that his arms were closing in on the Human he was trapped with. He felt her lightly place a hand on his chest, and paused.

"Now, darling, I'm sure there's a way out of this that doesn't require," she paused, the darkness hiding any expression, "such brute force."

"Madame? You sound faint of breath. We should try and get it open. Do you have a phobia of such tight spaces?"

“No, dear, I am not claustrophobic,” Lucine replied as she allowed her hand to linger a bit longer than was proper. “I am merely irritated at this situation. It is really quite humiliating.”

She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on the situation instead of the feeling of Strong's rippling pectorals beneath his shirt. Obviously, escape was their only option; the idea of being caught locked in the closet with Strong was simply too embarrassing. I could likely cut through the door with my lightsaber quite easily, she decided.

But as her hand closed around the hilt of her weapon, a second thought occurred to her. The close quarters of the closet combined with Strong's impressive stature allowed for very little freedom of movement. This would be a good opportunity to have a little fun with the cultured mercenary. This is a perfect opportunity to distract him as much as he has been distracting me.

“Besides, we should avoid damaging Clan property if we can avoid it,” she added in a neutral tone, the darkness hiding her wicked grin.

”Oh! Of course, you are right,” Strong rumbled in agreement.

“Excellent,” Lucine purred as she drew upon the Force, using it to augment her sight. The darkness gradually separated itself into shapes. “The simplest place to start would be to see if there is some sort of control panel near the door. Would you mind giving me some room, dear?” She saw Strong's silhouette move back until his back was pressed against the far wall; even then it allowed her a very small space to work with. She shifted to the side of the door, pressing herself against him as she moved. “Oh! So sorry! It is just so tight in here,” she murmured.

The Chiss cleared his throat. ”I-It is quite all right, Mistress Vasano,” he said in reply.

She could not help but to smirk at the distress she heard in the mercenary's voice. She leaned more closely against him for a moment, before saying, “Well, dear, the bad news is that there is no panel on the inside.”

”That is unfortunate,” Strong said, unable to hide the distraction in his voice. ”Perhaps there is a vent?”

“Good idea,” Lucine purred. She scanned along the walls until she found what she was looking for. “I do think I see one, but it is up by the ceiling. Perhaps if you were to lift me up, I might be able to squeeze through.”

”L-lift you?” Strong repeated with an audible gulp.

She found his hands and guided them to her waist. “Like this. I am sure an impressive man such as yourself can manage it,” she said in a breathy tone.

”Of course,” the Chiss said as he obligingly lifted her off the ground.

Lucine leaned in close so that he could smell her perfume as she lightly traced her fingers along where his cheek should be. “Mmm, just as impressive as I thought,” she murmured, before turning her attention to the vent.

As she suspected, it was much too small for her to squeeze through, but she could always blame the darkness on that little miscalculation. She took a moment to enjoy the feeling of Strong's hands wrapped around her as she considered other ways to make him squirm. But her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet noise coming from the vent.

Skitter... skitter.... It was the unmistakable sound of metal against metal. She peered into the vent in time to see a small object moving within it. A moment later, it swung open and the ID9 droid sprang forth to land on her chest with a series of happy chirps.

“Get off of me, you filthy thing!” Lucine shrieked in surprise. POR-7 trilled in reply as it used its pincer hands to climb along her dress, making a beeline for the pocket when she had hidden the stolen underwear.

”Mistress Vasano!” Strong said, nearly dropping the Sith as she shrieked in surprise. He set her down as quickly as he could as she flailed in an attempt to remove the ID9 droid from her person. She finally managed to knock it away. The droid clattered against the door before righting itself, chittering indignantly as it did so.

Strong scanned the darkness, turning to face the direction that the sound was coming from. ”Rapscallion!” He curled his hand into a massive fist and stepped forward to land a devastating blow.

“What—” Lucine's words were cut off as Strong pushed past her, knocking her into the sidewall. Stars exploded in front of her eyes as he head smacked against the hard surface. She was dimly aware of the sound of crumpling metal as Strong's fist connected with the door. The force of his punch caused it to bow outward and created a crack of light as the door was torn out of alignment from its frame. With a trilling noise that sounded distinctly like laughter, the Skitters squeezed itself through the crack and vanished.

“Did it escape again?” the Sith asked as she clutched her aching head.

”No! A son of Garmis does not admit defeat so easily!” Strong bellowed as he grabbed the skewed door. He pulled, and the door tore free with a scream of rending metal.

Lucine observed the feat of strength on display from her perspective on the closet floor. She drew on the Force, quieting the throbbing in the back of her head as she took in the way Strong’s shirt strained from his efforts. The lines of his tailored sleeves grew taut as the metal of the door tore from its sliding brackets, the servos for the automatic systems groaning and sparking. By the time he’d pried it open entirely, she’d cleansed herself of the sharp pain behind her eyes from striking the wall. Still, she saw no reason to stand, no, not yet.

His shoulders heaved as he took several deep breaths, quieting his anger and allowing the adrenaline to burn off. The Chiss looked down towards her and visibly shook, realizing what he’d done. He crouched, bringing one massive hand up to gently lift her chin and cradled the side of her face. It was warm against her cheek, his fingers lying lightly on her hair as if he was afraid to disturb the red locks.

”Mistress Vasano! Forgive me, I did not intend to — I have brought great shame to my family name this day,” he rumbled, hanging his head.

She enjoyed his discomfort for a few moments before resting a hand on his glistening, bald scalp.

“I am not badly injured, Strong, but do be careful. I am much more fragile than you are.”

”Of course, Madame. It is unlike me to lose my temper in such a manner, but that droid!” The big man growled, sending a shiver down her spine from the proximity. His head lifted, red eyes staring into her green ones. ”I beg your forgiveness, Mistress. If you wish to remain here until I can send back a member of the medical staff, I will pursue and neutralize the Skitters unit!”

“No!” she snapped, blushing before she could stop herself. She took a gentler tone, her hand moving to lightly brush his own cheek instead. “No, darling, I would not miss your victory for the world! But, perhaps,” she glanced away coyly, acting embarrassed, “it would not be inappropriate for you to carry me in your pursuit? I do know how the little monster thinks, after all.”

Strong didn’t respond with words; his cheeks already burned with enough shame for accidentally hurting her. Instead, he scooped her up with both arms, cradling her in a manner akin to an invalid or newlywed. She did her best to ignore the spectacle they were displaying to those who’d come to the hall outside, investigating the noise. Instead, she put her arm up to hook his thick neck and laid her head against his shoulder. Playing the injured damsel was exhausting, she thought with a sigh, before flicking her vision around the corridor. The protocol droid who’d locked them into the janitor’s closet in the first place was sprawled on the floor nearby.

“What a rude ID9!” it exclaimed, attempting to roll itself over so it could push off the floor.

“I believe our quarry went that way, darling,” she spoke languidly, gesturing in the droid’s direction.

Strong took off at a trot, holding her close so as not to jostle or bounce her too much. It was like being cradled by a firm, warm wall, not unappealing, but she was wondering if she’d laid on the injured act too thick. “You...can...slow...down…” she tried to say through gritted teeth. She let out a sigh when the Chiss came to an abrupt halt. “What?” she began to protest, before clamping her jaw shut as he moved to set her down. He did it with all the care one would expect from a man handling an infant, even going so far as to place a hand reassuringly on her head. Her cheeks burned at the treatment, and they grew all the hotter with anger at herself when she felt disappointed at the withdrawal of his hand.

I’m in control of this situation, not him!

”I shall capture him forthwith, my Lady Lucine,” he rumbled, taking the hand from her head to place over his chest. He looked intense as he rose to his full height, glaring at the end of the hallway. There were no more turns, nowhere for the scrambling droid to scurry off to. It was hopping, pincers scrabbling at the sheer surface of the wall in an attempt to reach a vent far above. It might have had better luck if it was using all four of its arms, but one was clutched in towards the body, holding—

She reached down and pulled at her cloak, exposing the hidden pocket within and the tear it had apparently suffered.

Ingrate!

Lucine opened her mouth, about to encourage the mercenary towering above her to action, when she saw him lift his hands slowly towards his shirt. He pulled it out of his trousers and began to methodically unbutton it, shrugging out of it with one fluid movement of the shoulders. Her mouth went dry, and she decided that silently observing was the better move. Smarter, perhaps.

No need to appear...eager. With how easily flustered he became earlier, he’s already hooked. Let him catch the droid, shower him with praise, and reel him the rest of the way in.

Her green eyes seemed to flash with malice as she watched the big man whip his shirt out by the collar, the material billowing out much like a cloak. He was large enough that the long-sleeved button-down would have served as such an item on her curvaceous form. With measured, careful steps, the Chiss stalked towards the Skitters unit. His feet landed gently, yet his entire body seemed coiled, ready to act. The ID9 turned away from its struggles and focused its one red eye on him, chirping a challenge. The small droid gathered its unoccupied arms underneath its dome-like body and wiggled as if it were ready to pounce.

It dashed forward, aiming between the mercenary’s legs in an attempt to flee once more. This time, the big man was ready, dropping to a crouch and sweeping his removed shirt in a swift arc. The droid let out a squeal of surprise as it was scooped up, the shirt acting like a sack. The momentum of the movement brought the bagged ID9 up into the air, and though she could see Strong’s muscular arms tightening to control the arc, she had a moment of maliciousness; Lucine twitched her hand, sending the shirt, and droid, careening into the nearest wall, jerking Strong around as it happened. There was a metallic crunch, and the screeching of the Skitters died.

”Oh my, I fear I’ve caused the poor thing some damage!” spoke Strong, opening the shirt enough to glance down inside of it, wincing.

“No less than it deserved,” muttered Lucine, taking one of the mercenary’s hands to stand. He pulled her up with contemptuous ease but was again surprisingly gentle. I do wonder what he’s like when he decides not to be, she mused, cheeks coloring again.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, Strong, dear,” she slid her arm through his, leaning against him with a tired sigh. “I believe I was going to treat you to a drink?”

”I should return this unit to Master Bleu before I partake in any refreshment, Mistress Vasano. Though,” he paused, and she looked up to see a purple blush across his face. Even his ears seemed to darken as she pressed against his side, I would be delighted to share a drink and perhaps dinner with you? At my expense, of course. Allow me to show you how a son of the Garmis line recompenses a lady for the indignities he’s placed upon her this day!”

She glanced at the shirt-sack hanging from his other hand, thoughts churning.

“My dear, perhaps you should allow me to take the droid, for now? I know an excellent mechanic who can fix the poor little thing up before I have it delivered to Kordath.”

And getting into the blasted things programming might lead to whatever archives that sleemo Ryn has!

”Perhaps,” drawled out Strong, uncertainty heavy in his voice. He was about to protest when she released his arm, sweeping her cloak off and stepping around him.

“Here, darling, you’ll catch your death without a shirt...though I can think of few who’d dissuade you from your display,” she purred, holding the cloak up to take the broken droid. “On the other hand, you know how Mick gets.”

Strong slowly nodded, dumping the droid into her cloak. He began to pull his shirt back on, not catching the way the Sith bit her lower lip at the action.

”Perhaps this is best dealt with after a meal, Mistress Vasano. Let us return to the cantina so that I may treat you?”

Oh yes, yes, you will.

She wrapped her arm around his once more, allowing him to lead the way down the halls.

“Oh, and, Strong? I believe after our...closeness, in the closet, you’re allowed to simply call me Lucine, yes?” she teased.

The way his back straightened and ears darkened anew told her the Chiss wasn’t forgetting that encounter for some time.