Categories > Games > Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic > Life and Times According to Griff P. Vao

Lena

by Plutospawn 0 Reviews

Griff sets his sights on a Twi'lek woman named Lena and continues to bury himself.

Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor - Characters: Mission Vao - Published: 2008/01/08 - Updated: 2008/01/08 - 1763 words - Complete

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God damn women. I’m telling you, I really should learn, right? No such luck. Lena was great. At first, that is. I think that her problem was that after I took all the time to scrape away at that banthashit exterior, ultimately, she was hardwired for those 2.5 pups and one of those fenced-in Bespin apartments.

You can understand how that mindset is destined to screw someone like me over.

I’d laughed at her. It’s little things like that that’ll take a person off guard. Poor babe was probably used to every core slime in the establishment trying to schmooze her into the sack, so I think the fact that my eyes didn’t lodge themselves in her cleavage instantly put me in safe territory. Either that or anyone after Brejik was appealing.

I told her I was glad because at first I’d thought she might have been Zaerdra and Zaerdra was out to pummel me. It was sort of true; Zaerdra wasn’t out to pummel me at that exact moment, but I’m sure with time Zaerdra would always come up with a reason to pummel me. I told Lena how relieved I was and how she needed to be a knight in shining Jedi robes and protect me. After that, she was the one laughing and I was golden.

I would have done anything for her. She wasn’t the type that vanished when I was broke, she showed up with lunch. She wasn’t like the other dames that would coo about how amazing it was that I was stuck raising a kid sister then storm off when Mission asked if their breasts were real. Then again, Lena’s were, so maybe that had something to do with it.

Mission hated her guts.

You’d think with someone sincerely interested and concerned about her, Mission would warm up. Of course not. After some of the… phrases we’ll call them, fell out of Mission’s mouth, Lena uttered a quick, “excuse me” and then we didn’t see her again for another six days. I don’t have any clue where Mission had picked up that kind of language. It must have been Brejik, because I know I wouldn’t freaking teach an eleven year old to talk like that.

And that was just it: she was eleven. Only eleven. If I was having trouble with her at eleven, how would twelve be or even thirteen? That was a cold splash of fear that I didn’t want to deal with.

It didn’t help that Lena would take her side. Sides! Like we were waging a war or something! And it was always my fault and it was always a trap. Lena would come up to me like we were going to just talk and then she’d open her mouth and I swear, she’d think it was legitimate Basic, but really, it was just insanity that she seemed to be fluent in.

As garbled madness spewed out of those glossy lips, there wasn’t much that I could do about it. Do you nod sympathetically until she finished? Because that automatically meant you agreed with her, not that you were trying to be polite (or at the very least, hoping for a pause where she breathed so you could hop in with your point of view.) If I just shook my head and told her to come talk to me when she was done being a psycho, then I wouldn’t have been listening to her, so anything contradictory I might have said would have been discounted since I couldn’t listen to her original arguments.

The only viable option I could think of was to bang my head against the wall. Then she scolded me about property damage and losing the security deposit with my behavior.

Sure, I could have been nicer and more understanding. I could have been a lot of things. Like a go-go dancer. But let’s be realistic here.

Mission was my problem. An unemployed mouth to feed. And believe me, for a little thing, she could eat a lot.

It had been easier when she was younger. She had a smaller appetite, took naps and didn’t sass back quite so much. There were gaggles of women that loved to look after her because of those chubby cheeks, stubby lekku and the darnedest things she’d say. Now I was being buried under complaints of just what those darnedest things were. She was a rude, little snot that would flip people the bird and then take their wallets.

When I tried to talk to her about it, she just flipped me the bird and tried to take my wallet.

So I sent her for a walk. A long walk. Mission disappeared for the rest of the day. I fumed and took most of it out on Lena. Bless her, she just stood and let me rant like an idiot. I mean, she tried to tell me it was because I was worried about Mission and it was probably best not to correct her, but still. There was concern in Lena’s eyes and fishnets on beneath that miniskirt.

Mission finally showed up again late that night. She refused to tell me where she’d been, but then she got all teary-eyed and apologized. I couldn’t see for what. She was still alive and as far as I could tell no one was dead because of her, so she was pretty even in my book.

Things were weird after that. Whenever Lena stopped by, Mission’d shoot her these icy dagger eyes and when she left, Mission’d flop all over me like she was trying to be this cute five year old again. Really freaky. I called her on it once and that set off a leg-kicking, fist-pounding tantrum that would’ve put Mission’s five year old self to shame.

I’m not cut out to a parent, alright? Legitimate or otherwise. It’s pretty obvious I can barely take care of myself half the time, I’m more shocked that Mission’s still breathing because I stuck with her than because I ditched out on her.

There, I said it. I ditched out on her. Happy? I bailed on a twelve year old kid. I was in over my head and Davik Kang reportedly had an offer that I couldn’t refuse. Kang probably had a valid point; with a Mandie merc cramming a repeating blaster down my neck, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to refuse anything, but that’s why it was of the utmost importance that I was far, far away from Taris and by default, unable to agree to anything as well.

Lena, being the doll that she is, said she’d cover the tickets off world, but for some strange reason wouldn’t just fork over the cash to me. She insisted on walking to the ticket booth with me and buying them herself. She went so far as to keep the tickets in her possession up until we both stepped onboard the shuttle.

That was one frosty flight. She was furious that Mission was a no show and we were leaving without her. This was also inexplicably my fault.

So I told Mission that Lena thought she was cramping our style? What was I supposed to tell her? She had Gadon Thek looking out for her. She had Zaerdra looking out for her. She had the entire freaking Hidden Beks looking out for her. What was I?

Stop looking at me like that; I could’ve sold her to a Hutt. It can always get that much worse.

I meant to come back to Taris one day. When I was established and didn’t have to worry where my next meal was coming from. All I had to do was get off planet, invest a little of Lena’s money here, spend a little there, impress the right person…

You can see where this one’s going, can’t you?

I don’t think any of my ideas were ever inherently bad. Lena always said that a “happy hat” would’ve been a great product if it weren’t completely implausible. Or a waffle iron that’s also a clothes iron. And don’t even get me started on the brassiere with the pump up cups.

Maybe I just couldn’t find the right markets for them.

By that time, Lena was juggling two jobs and about ready to throttle me. One thing after another had fallen to pieces and I was unofficially unemployed for about anywhere from three weeks to two months depending on who you asked. I finally caught wind of this deal going down in Tatooine and decided that was my big chance.

Lena disagreed. She said we didn’t have the money for another planet hop. She said I needed to focus on actually getting and holding a job for a minimum of six months standard. She said if I was going to insist on being a waste of time then I should at least have the decency to only waste my own and not hers.

So I said a few things back, myself. Maybe that was my mistake. Lena was a good person deep down, just different than me on that fundamental level. When she started to cry all angry like and told me to get out, I went up and hugged her. I said that I was a screw up and said that I wanted to make it right only to have her shove me away.

Not before I had the chance to pocket her wallet, however.

Lena hadn’t been kidding; she didn’t have enough credits to skip town. Much to my dismay, I had to pull a few favors at the local cantina to make up for the remainder of the ticket price. And quickly, since I had the feeling that Lena’d be showing up soon to take back what was rightfully hers.

She never did. Maybe it was a pride or disgust thing, maybe that instinct in my gut that seemed to keep me among the living for reasons unknown let me stay one step ahead of her, who knows. All I knew was that I was headed to the planet with these gibbery little creatures called Jawas and two suns. I packed a pair of sandals and some tanning oil just in case.
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