(Inisde)
Darius absently tosses the communicator to Sloor. "I agree that it's unusual if she didn't recognise us, but perhaps she's contacting her superiors as we speak to tell them that rebel sympathisers are working for Darga." He rubs his chin. "We don't want to lose sight of our real goal here, which is to find out more about this Sarlacc Project. She could be a vital link. And she's only got those two bodyguards..." he pats his blaster meaningfully.
Sloor glares:
"You maybe nawtice the tawtal lack awf anything resembling a scrambler-equipped drawid in the room at the mawent, Darius man? Keep those frekking dangerous wawrds taw your awn frekking self, fawr frek's sake!" Didn't they already have this exact talk before too? The man's gone down several slots in his 'can be trusted with a secret' category...
"And you realize that means killing her afterwards, right?" Mack didn't seem to have made that particular connection himself, the way he was talking...
Where's the
talk button on this thing?
<Response Darius?> optionnal
(Outside)
He replies to TB, "Just a minute."
TB looks at the distances involved...
"Yes, that sounds about right."
Mack starts hustling towards the Imps location and speaks into his comlink again, <"The lady is getting into her speeder and probably going to leave. Looks like her guards are conducting a security sweep first. Over.">
Inside, Sloor gets that weird effect you get when you press
talk and a voice comes right out, without the slightest pause or time for beeping. He almost drops the frecsing thing in surprise, and then what the voice said sinks in.
A pause, mouth half-opened.
Put it all on the Bespin square and let it ride, is what the gambler in him shouts. They got *plenty* of time to get Darga to invite them there, or just finagle the right plant out from what they know already, infiltrate, get shipped to Sarlacc country with a Tibanna shipment or something (seems to be a popular method of movement in *this* crowd). But then... to watch her walk away and do *nothing*... The missed opportunities... FREK!
His nimble thumb quickly puts TB in a three-way, swearing when it takes him three additional seconds with the unfamiliar hand-set:
"TB, Pawrter routine awn the targets. Naw... And send a hawlaw snap of *her* taw Aw'Keefe when you have sawme extra prawcessing time."
Bespin will still be there (if they survive).
"Don't worry: dodging the inevitable blaster fire will only take a small fraction of my considerable intellect," re-assures the droid.
"Always with the frecsing awptimism," grouses its owner, but it's good to know he's not the only one that sees where this *could* be leading.
"Mack! We're awn awer way saw grab us a ride: steal, bribe, beg, I dan't care. Frekking *kybucks* if you have taw!" And he hated those horn-headed things! He almost hangs up, thinks better of it:
"Ah... Main gate right?"
<Response Mack?>
A look at the other two just standing there:
"Well? Gaw, gaw, gaw!" A sudden sharpened smile splits his large visage:
"But 'discretely'."
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OOC:
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Sloor will make his way towards the main entrance will all due speed, and without looking like he's hurrying at all (Stealth +10 if need be on that last).
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(Outside)
TB quietly lowers his cargo basket to the ground and then prosaically, almost matter-of-factly glides out into full view as the two clones mill about for a few seconds as the negotiator gets in the vehicle.
"Can I help you with your bags, sirs? I have been asked to ease your departure."
<Response Clones?>
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OOC:
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Dumped the basket so he appears wholly "naked": no built-in weapons, nowhere to pull anything from. The clones might/have probably seen him inisde the throne room, but they haven't seen him with Sloor at any point, by the way.
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