cicaklah:

santheum replied to your post “PROMPT POAST”

Raffles: An intergalactice thief

u know me well bb


Before Raffles picked me up out of obscurity, I was a sad, lost soul, living on a boring planet with not even a droid for company. There was a time that I was the scion of some of the finest moisture farming families on Tattooine, but I must confess that I ruined my family’s legacy through a combination of youth and bad decisions.

Still, I could lose myself as well as any man, and Mos Eisley is as good a place as anywhere. I had the last part of my inheritance, the farm had been sold months before and I was now homeless, its new owners coming in with their droids and their wayward children and their endless hope for the future.

I walk into the cantina, buy a sour mash on the rocks, and put all but one credit on black.

“You shouldn’t do that if I were you” a familiar voice says over my shoulder. “This game is rigged. Come, let me buy you a drink, and you can come join my Sabacc game. Far more pleasant way to lose your money”

The stranger did seem familiar, but it took me a while to place it. By the time I had, I’d drunk several of his drinks and lost even that last credit. I was drunk, and now utterly discredited. 

The Mos Eisley cantina doesn’t necessarily ever close, but its generally considered bad manners to sleep there.

“Come, lets get you home” my new friend says, his hands hot on my thin shirt as he manhandles me upright.

“dun have a home” I slur. “lost it all. my last credits. already sold myself to the hutts as a slave. what a way to go. the last manders, crushed to death in hutt sex games. im glad my parents are dead, they were noble water farmers in the desert, oh maker how did I do this?”

“Nonsense” my new friend puffs. “You’re an honourable man, and I am the same, and I won’t see anyone get crushed to death while being buggered by a hutt, so why don’t you come back to my ship and sleep it off? Everything will seem better in the morning.”

I think I passed out around this point, partly from the mash, and partly from the relief that I would be spared death by hutt for at least another day.

When I woke up, I was in the comfortable quarters in a ship even my country boy self could appreciate was a handsome beauty.

I found my new friend in the cockpit. He was smoking short cigarettes and flicking a credit around his fingers. My hungover brain managed to sort through all the ettiquette I missed last night. 

I held out my hand. “Harry Manders. Thank you for your immense hospitality”.

My new friend had a strong handshake despite the angle. “AJ Raffles, at your service.”

I dropped into the copilot’s seat. “I knew i recognised you! AJ Raffles! You did the kessel run in 15 parsecs! You’re a legend! That means I’m in the Albany? Oh how wonderful. What are you doing on this hellish backwater? Surely Mos Eisley can’t have much for you. You should be in the capitol, not hanging around with the likes of me.” I blushed. I always did. 

Raffles scoffs. “Don’t be a fool. You think that I make a living doing stupid tricks like the kessel run? Why, I am as poor as you. If something happened to this ship, I would be hutt fodder myself.”

I boggled. “But this is a million credit ship!” I cried. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am as serious as you are. But do not fear, for I can always seem to find some credits. In fact, I think I could probably find a way to get you out of the hole, at least temporarily. Save you from a fate worse than hutt. What do you say? Do you have the pluck, my man?”

I smiled. “I’ll do anything, Raffles. Anything.”

from Tumblr http://ift.tt/1SVgZhJ

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