nexus_crossings | (no dupes) Too many sweets. Just. Too many.

Current Mood: aggravated
Current Location: The Plaza
Current Music: The Imperial Suite

(no dupes) Too many sweets. Just. Too many.

After the weapons' test on Jedha was a great success, that night (or what passes as "night" on the Death Star) Krennic is en route to his personal quarters to do a little private celebration. Technically, he throws a party in the officers' lounge, the one for high-ranking officers (although of course the petty officers and tech people are welcome to celebrate in their own lounges), but he avoided coming there right now since he heard that the Grand Moff is there, stealing his spotlight. Krennic knows that he can't possibly avoid him forever, but a drink or two from his own personal collection, and he would be gold dealing with his archrival and the bane of his existence. However, when he exited the turbolift to his level, he came out in a...strange place instead of the usual corridor with stormtroopers patrolling through it.

He ended up in the Plaza of the Nexus. He was first confused, then irritated, and started asking around (demanding more like) about where in the stars he is, and got the same explanation. Krennic couldn't really accept it, thinking that this was some sort of a weird dream or a holographic prank someone played on him (most likely Tarkin, to keep him out from his own party celebrating his own greatness), but while he is still in the phase of denial, a random someone foisted him with a bag of sweets, telling him "Happy Halloween" and left before Krennic could accost him, and then another, and then another. In the end, he ended up with too much sweets--foreign sweets that he had never even seen before--his hands full of it, and what's worse, one of those idiots who forcefully gave him that told him that he had a nice costume. They think he was dressing up for this weird "Halloween" event, whatever the kriff it is.

He should probably sit down, or drop all the sweets, or better yet, throw them to somebody's face since that's how infuriated Krennic is right now, but as it stands, he's currently standing in the middle of the plaza with hands full of sweets. Someone please help him.

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Proving to be no help, ever, to anyone, Kraglin sort of sidles up in the way that only the consummate reprobates ever master and leans in to a distance that is 'too close' for almost sensibilities. This is, not least of all, because he's covered in engine grease at any given time and smells like the inside of a pirate starship.

He's not allowed to have the fin installed yet, so instead it's fairly apparent that he's had some pretty major cybernetics work done to the top of his head recently. The grin he flashes Krennic is one of a mouth full of metal teeth, not quite the right shape for his mostly human appearance.

"You gunna eat all them? Only, you don't much look like summun who wants all them sugary things."

Krennic is too busy contemplating about what to do with the sweets--he could try and track down the people who forcefully gave it to him, for example, and throw it in their face, and then arrest them in the name of the Empire for harassing an Imperial officer--that he doesn't realise Kraglin's arrival. He only realised it when he started to smell the stink, and like any normal person, he quickly jerked away, especially once he noticed that the other man is pretty much covered in engine grease. Krennic definitely do not want to get that on his pristine uniform.

"No, obviously not. They were foisted on me by some random idiots who didn't know that harassing an Imperial officer is an offence punishable by law," he said, with apparent disgust, not only at those people he mentioned, but also at Kraglin's not-completely-human appearance--the metal teeth were especially distracting. And that accent. He looked like a scum from the Outer Rim. "Smuggling, too. You certainly looked like the type."

He put some distance between him and the other man, not only because he's rude and taught to be fairly discriminative towards people who aren't completely human, or who just aren't human, stat, but also because he wanted to protect the sanctity and cleanliness of his uniform. "And please, do not stand so close to me, you will ruin my uniform. And I could smell you from miles away. Was everyone on this place like this?"

This guy reminds him of Nova Corps. Only, about a thousand times more uptight, which is fairly impressive given the sticks wedged firmly up the Nova Corps.

"Oh, an Eem-peeree-al officer. Which empire's that then? You ain't Shi'Ar, definitely not Kree and Xandar don't call themselves empire." Kraglin sidles in closer again, purely to be a jerk because it makes the other man uncomfortable. "Look a smuggler? Nah, not a smuggler. Profit margin sucks."

Usually. Some things are worth smuggling, but Ravagers stand out a bit too much to be good at it. "White seems awful silly for a uniform. Can't get anything done in white without showin' the blood. Or the grease. No idea 'bout this place. Where are we?"

"What?" Krennic said, more irritated now than ever, especially since this man was clearly making fun of him. And stars, those grease, and the smell. It offended his Imperial sensibilities so much, and Krennic moved away again, putting more distance between them, scowling at Kraglin. "Don't come any closer again," he growled, an obvious warning. "And I've never heard of any of that. I am an officer of the Galactic Empire, the only Empire, under the leadership of the great Emperor Palpatine." he lifted his chin while he said that, looking at Kraglin imperiously and smugly, obviously proud of what he is and of his part in the Imperial cog machine. "You do look like a smuggler from the shadier parts of the Outer Rim to me," he said, giving the other man another condescending look. "Probably after taking a dip in the Sarlacc pit because you smelled like Bantha poo. But if you're not a smuggler," Krennic looked him up and down, "then what are you?"

He dumped all his sweets on the nearest table, snagging only a chocolate bar and an interesting looking candy for himself, hoping Kraglin won't notice. Then he glared at him again, at the jab on the colour of his uniform. "I'm Imperial Intelligence," he said, stiffly. "Tarkin Initiative. Weapons Research. Director of it, to be exact. So you see why I wear what you call 'awful silly for a uniform'," he said. "Technically, it's all classified, but since we're here in this stars abandoned place, I don't think it matters."

Krennic was obviously proud of his uniform too, because being in the Division--leading it--is one of his most proudest achievements, although clearly not as much as building a mobile battle station the size of a small moon capable of destroying cities and planets with a single button, so insulting it is a very bad idea. He's already planning to ditch this smelly, offensive man, and find someone else to talk to, someone who won't give him tons of sweets or thinks his uniform is a costume or, well, a smelly, offensive smuggler.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I read the pamphlets and they call it the Nexus. That was before they gave me the sweets. I'd just arrived, too."

Kraglin pulled a face. It might be meant to be an appeasing expression, or it might just be displeasure at being called out on sidling closer but as soon as the food was dumped on a table, he was sidling up to that instead, far more interested in the allure of eating than harassing someone with a giant stick up their ass.

"Ain't heard of no Galactic Empire, no Pal- pal-pee-teen or a Sarlacc pit." Being given condescending looks wasn't a bother; Yondu had given them all the time and the man was the closest he had to a best friend.

"... 'm a-" He paused, frowning. Reached up and scratched at the tattoos on his neck. "Well. Guess I ain't a Ravager no more. Ain't a Guardian. I dunno. Guess I'm between jobs since Yondu killed everyone and then got himself spaced."

He took one of the sweets and unwrapped it, sniffing it before giving it an experimental lick. "I'm Kraglin Obfonteri, former First mate of the Eclector, of the Ravager 99th."

Throughout all of this, Krennic watched Kraglin with an expression somewhere between fascination and disgust, or perhaps fascinated disgust, like a xenobiologist watching a particularly morbid and disgusting flesh-eating bacteria from some backwards Outer Rim planet. After all, Krennic is a scientist--an engineer and an architect more like--so he had that scientific curiosity, although clearly not as much as his old friend Galen, and he did carry himself with a soldierly mien than a scientific one.

"I've never heard of any of that either," he said, still observing Kraglin, managed to reined in the disgust somewhat. "Guess we really are at the crossroads between worlds and universes. Or so the pamphlets and the welcome party told me. Not the one who gave me all those sweets," he added, watching the other man moved towards the dumped sweets. Now this is xenoanthropology, Krennic never thought that he would be put in this sort of situation, but here he is. He probably should take out his datapad and make some notes. What an...interesting specimen. And the smell. It brings out the scientist in him, even if he's more into engines and weapons and machines than people and alien beings.

"It's Emperor Palpatine," Krennic corrected. "Stars know that if you pronounce his name like that and my Death Troopers are with me, I'll arrest you. But as it stands, I seem to have left behind in my universe...or whatever. Infuriating."

A brief pause, as he studied the other man some more. Contemplating putting more distance between them, too. "Did this Yondu guy kill you too? I mean I would, considering your smell. But you probably have your uses."

A mechanic, most likely, or a tech of sorts, Even when he was still an engineering student in Brentaal, Krennic had never been covered in that much grease. He's judging him so bad. "I've never heard of your ship. But that means you're a spacer, then," he said, tilting his head, the gears in his head turning. "Means you could get me out of here, since I don't trust all the 'just step into the right door and you'll end up back home' Bantha poo."

He paused for a moment, considering whether or not to introduce himself back, gauging Kraglin's usefulness. "I'm Director Krennic, of the Advanced Weapons Research Division in the Imperial Intelligence," he told him, grudgingly. "If you have a ship of sorts, you should consider borrowing it to me. I have a very important event to get back to."

The sugary confection definitely had more interest for Kraglin that annoying the uptight bloke. He bit into the candy, those metal teeth proving more that decoration as they easily sheared through it. He rolled it in his mouth, waiting for any allergic reaction before deciding it must be safe and swallowing it down. "Not bad," he mumbled. "Prob'ly don't go off, neither. What?"

He contemplated it for a bit, eating the rest of the sweet. "... oooh, like a place where all these different dimensional existences can, whachacallit... meet for a singular shared reality." Looked and sounded like a backwards hick; was actually capable of maintaining and running hyper advanced technology and understanding the science to do so.

"Sure, him, Emperor Palpiteen." Kraglin, being marginally less of an asshole than Yondu was, was still an asshole. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I got arrested a lot, never sticks none." He stuck a finger in his ear, wriggling it about.

And then started laughing. It wasn't a pretty laugh. It involved some hacking and clutching his cybernetics, because laughing like that hurt a lot so soon after surgery, but this guy was hilarious. "Borrow you a starship? You're fuckin' hilarious, you should go on stage!"

Krennic was grateful for that, in the meanwhile he's trying not to feel like a xenoanthropologist discovering a new, annoying, candy-eating species with a metal teeth, while planning to ditch him after he dispensed the necessary info to him and also commandeered his ship, even if it's probably just as smelly and greasy as him. It wasn't a very pleasant thought. But he needs to get out of here, and he needed to get out of here fast.

"Yes, yes, something like that," Krennic responded, exasperated. He hated this guy's backwards accent. As a rule, senior Imperial officers (if not Imperial officers in general) despised the Outer Rim and all it stands for, including the accent, and even if he's originally from a small, backwards planet in the Mid Rim, he affected a Coruscanti accent, just like everyone else. Although his own native accent shows every now and then, particularly when he's pissed. And he's currently kind of pissed. "Read the pamphlets and ask the welcome party. I don't have time to stick around explaining the place to you."

And clearly, he doesn't want to. He scowled at what Kraglin says next, nearly rolled his eyes. "Then perhaps we should send you to a labour camp, then. I heard the one in Wobani works wonders on scum like you."

He doesn't mean it. Only he does. Which is totally worth it, considering the fact that the other man laughed at him after that, not a pretty laugh at that, with all those metal teeth and the unfinished cybernetics, and...what he said. Krennic's hand curled into a fist. "I'm not joking. You should listen to yourself. It's a miracle I haven't shot you. If you have a ship, then consider it confiscated in the name of the Galactic Empire."

Krennic was in for a few very nasty surprises. Most people who underestimated Kraglin ended up getting some nasty surprises; he wasn't First mate of an exiled Ravager because of his pretty face or his annoying loyalty to his Captain (though loyalty had helped).

"I done labour camps. Called 'home'." One of Kraglin's hands is very obviously sneaking to the sweets again to pilfer more and stash them away in his leathers. "Mining camps where prats like you knew better'n to go if they wanted to keep their fingers. And teeth." He flashed his.

And then deliberately looked down, where his other hand was casually resting on the hilt of his blaster. It was glowing slightly with charging menace. "And you ought'a be careful 'bout threatenin' people. Someone who ain't as nice as me might'a shot first. To be safe."

Edited 2017-10-26 12:31 (UTC)

There goes Krennic's brief stint as a xenoanthropologist. At what Kraglin said next, he narrowed his eyes at him, knowing an insult where he sees one. And he's not going to let it slide. "That explains everything," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He felt more than a little annoyed now--more like starting to get infuriated--and even if he's not particularly attached to or wanted the sweets pile, it was his pile Kraglin was pilfering. And he doesn't like this man, this criminal scum. He laughed when the other man flashed his teeth, not the least bit intimidated. Well. Maybe only a little. But regardless, Krennic doesn't let it show. The first thing he had learnt ever since the Grand Army of the Republic turned into the Imperial Army, and his transition from the Republic Corps of Engineers into the Special Weapons Group that later became the Advanced Weapons Research Division, was to never show any weakness. That was how they were trained. "Of course I know better. I'm on the right side of the law, unlike you." he said, all but baring at his teeth.

He tensed at what the other man said next, hand going to the hilt of his own blaster pistol, too. He didn't draw it yet, but another bit of provocation and Krennic just might. "I don't need to be careful," he said, sneering. "If my Death Troopers are here, they'd already shot you at the slightest provocation. But as it stands, I'm going to play nice and not do that."

[[ ooc: I think there's the anti-violence field or something so if this comes down to space cowboy shooting competition they'd be fine? ]]

Ravagers had the same principle. Show no weakness, have no soft spots, care for nothing and no one. Yondu was strict about sentiment.

"Law? Who gives a feck about laws? Got the code, all we need." Steal from everyone. Don't steal from each other. Don't hurt kids (but threatening to eat them was okay, so long as you weren't actually going to).

He takes a last grab of sweets, because who knew when he'd have another chance at something like them and then he backed up a bit. "Yeah, know y'r type. Like havin' others fight f'r yer. Dun wanna risk blood on yer pretty whites."

"What the kriff is your code?" he snarled, now well and truly infuriated, baring his teeth and narrowing his eyes at him. "All scum like you does is steal and ravage from people, and bring about chaos wherever you go. Of course you don't care about the law, all you care about is your own hide."

Considerably ironic, considering Krennic also only cares about his own hide. He's only supporting the Empire because it supplies him with the means (read: the Death Star) to achieve his grand vision of personal glory. Otherwise, he doesn't really care. Yes, he believed about the Empire's philosophy to some degree, since he experienced The Clone Wars firsthand (if not from behind the safety of his Special Weapons Group, but he did some covert ops), but in the long run, Orson Krennic only cares about Orson Krennic. Everyone else is toast.

"You challenging me, mate?" he barked out, stepping forward where Kraglin stepping back, taking it as an act of cowardliness. "I'm a good shot, and I can still take you out, even without my Death Troopers."

"Steal from everyone. Don't hurt kids." That's... about it. "Do what Cap'n says." Though, having to do what Quill says instead... he's still not entirely sold on that. "Lotta space between 'law' and 'own hide'."

His family and friends are dead. Just Petey left and that's complicated, but he'd protect the kid.

"Only if'n you think it is. Don't much care, me. But yer awful keen to prove sumthin' to a piece of scum, ain't'cha?" He smirked broadly at Krennic. "Aw, y' wanna impress me, don'tcha?"

"Steal from everyone," Krennic repeated what he said, but obviously with a mocking tone. "Yes, lots of space between law and your own hide. There's so much space, in fact, that you are still a criminal scum," he spat out, clearly unimpressed.

Now Kraglin's just poking the nest of space hornets. Krennic narrowed his eyes at him again, hand still on the hilt of his blaster. "Why would I want to impress you?" he laughed. "I just don't like criminal scum. And I don't want anything to do with you. So enjoy the food I've given you for free, I'm taking my leave."

Kraglin shrugs. He's still a criminal, sure. And probably scum. But he cares about more than just his own hide. Though Yondu would laugh himself sick if he said it where anyone could hear.

"Jus' sounds an awful lot like y'r tryin' t' impress me..." He shoves a gummy sweet in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "A'ight then."

Krennic laughs again, still tense, but his blaster arm no longer rested on the hilt of it. Still, there was an edge to him, and his laugh was sharp, a hint of a threat still in it. He was confident that he was going to get out of this easy because the criminal scum wouldn't draw his blaster--wouldn't have the guts to--and he was right.

"I wouldn't kriffing impress you if you're the last person in the galaxy," he says, giving the other man one last glare. "I'm taking my leave. Best if I don't see you around anymore, because the next time I might not be so nice."

And, just like that, he's making his dramatic exit, cape sweeping. He wasn't glad that it didn't come to a shooting contest, although a part of him did, but he was at least glad that he was right in his assumption about Kraglin, because if there's one thing Krennic loves more than his achievements and himself, it's being right.

Now to find his way in the Nexus without stumbling into anymore criminal scum. Or worse, rebel scum.

He was right. Kraglin wasn't going to shoot him. He'd shot a lot of people; killing didn't bother him, nor did killing people with their back to him. If he was Yondu, he would've killed Krennic on principle, maybe after terrorising him for a bit.

But, ultimately, Kraglin can't be bothered. There's no profit or benefit in killing Krennic. He's going away, which is what Kraglin wants, so he can claim to the table and the remaining sweets. And if he finds Krennic later and there's a reason, he'll shank him and strip his body of valuables.

For now... Kraglin pops another sweet in his mouth and cracks it with his teeth to let the gooey centre flow out. Mm. Fruity.

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(no dupes) Too many sweets. Just. Too many.

First time outing with Kraggles, please be gentle.

you're doing fine so far, no worries!

thank you

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i'm sorry he's a rude asshole

it's okay, kraglin is too

they got along SO well lmfao. btw I laughed at Palpiteen

i am so sorry about him...

eh, don't be. they're both assholes. i'm sorry about krennic too lmfao

I was pretty sure there was an anti-violence thing... because of people like these two

tru. I think I read abt it somewhere. basically created for them

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