Vreva propped her feet up on the wall of the Nighthawk, braids dangling down past her seat. She watched the others from her topsy-turvy view as they gathered their things for the mission ahead. Everything she needed was with her pack. Her rifle was already cleaned and loaded, her blade sharpened.

She was so bored.

"Blood rushing to your head, yet?" Paum mused as he checked his pack.

"Not yet," she replied, though when she righted herself she felt just the slightest bit of nausea. She exhaled with a deep sigh as she bounced her knee. "When the kark are we getting there? Want to get this cleanup done so we can count the creds and be on to the next."

"On to the next?"

"I need to kill something."

Paum let out a whoosh of air through his blowhole. "Vreva. Not every mission has to be to the death. Creds are creds."

"Not for me." Vreva drew one knee up to her chest and wrapped her arms around it. She stared ahead at the far wall and refused to meet whatever look he gave her.

She could still hear the disappointment in his tone. "Vreva..."

"You knew what you signed up for, big guy. Just let me complain." She dragged her pack closer and started to sort out its contents on the seat beside her. Anything to keep her focus elsewhere. Paum wouldn't understand. He couldn't.

"How about a spar when we get back? You and me, like old times. Get some of that energy out."

"It's not that." Her brow furrowed as she returned each item in the same haphazard jumble within her pack.

"You want a challenge."

"I want to kill something." Vreva's yellow eyes turned on Paum. His own ruddy hues met her intimidating glare with a calmness that stifled her anger.

"What's wrong?" Paum asked.

His words caused her fire to flare again. Her nose wrinkled. "Nothing."

"Just a murderous streak?"

"I'm a paid murderer, Paum-Paum. It's what I do."

"You're more than a killer, Vreva."

Vreva laughed loud at that. Loud enough for others to glance her way. She gave a manic grin, daring them to say anything. This is what they paid her for. A Sith. A weapon.

"Didn't think you'd drink before a mission," she said in a biting snarl. Vreva knew it wasn't the truth, and Paum didn't flinch from her words. They both knew she was deflecting, concealing herself from him.

"If only. Might make this trip go by faster." Paum chuffed, then placed a large hand on the zabrak's shoulder. She shrugged off his touch as if burned by it, and his expression turned to a deep frown.

It hurt her in turn to see him so hurt, though she refused to give up her vitriol. "Let's just focus on the mission ahead," she said bitterly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Get this done, and see what comes next."

Paum remained silent at that and mirrored her stance. It was a quiet trip to Gethsemane.