Maeva stepped out of the Arrow-23 Landspeeder that was modified for transporting a body. The irony of picking up a deceased at a gambling location called Dead Man’s Hand was not lost on her but it was not the first irony she went through.
The Evereni approached to the guard at the door and was lead to the deceased. She looked around and was grateful they at least blocked it off but was a smidge annoyed they covered him in a sheet.
“Did… Der'rick already take photos?” Maeva noticed the lack of the photographer’s presence.
“Ah, he got wrapped up at another scene, he’ll be here soon.” The police shrugged as Maeva blinked. She can’t move the body until the scene was photographed in case they detect foul play.
So what she was suppose to do? She stood there and glanced around awkwardly. She had been to a few bars but never really liked them.
Gambling? Now that wasn’t new. She doesn’t remember how many times she tried to swindle targets when she was living on the streets. She wore black scrubs with a badge that had her name, company’s name, and an image of her clipped by the scrub’s chest pocket.
The building was almost completely empty aside from official personnel. With the exception of two. The bartender and an older man with thick salt and pepper (more salt than pepper) hair and a thick beard that was even more white.
“Caleb.” He said, his voice hoarse from an injury as a younger man. “Another round.”
The bartender, Caleb, lit a new cigarra with the end of the previous and took a long drag as he snuffed out the stub. “Yanno, Jak. There’s actual cops here. You could at least pretend you care.”
Jak watched as his drink was refilled and took a sip of the amber colored liquor. “Why? One dead body is the same as another.” He lit a cigarra of his own, the end glowing bright yellow-red before he exhaled the cloud of sweet smelling smoke. “Besides, when you cheat at cards, someone is gonna kill you eventually. His number just came up.”
Caleb nodded as the two continued to chat, idly talking about other killings they’d seen happen in this bar or others.
After she waited for a bit, she decided to go sit down by the bar. Especially considering she didn’t know how long Der'rick would take before he can arrive to the scene. Maeva heard a noise and glanced over to the dead body. The body had jerked and moved the spilled glass that was by it. One of the cops made a disgusted look.
However, this gave Maeva an opening for the bartender and the stranger.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too weird. Her two close friends found her trivia related to her job amusing.
“Did you know that the body continues to spasm even after six hours of death?”
Jak turned his big, shaggy head towards the younger - much younger - woman and raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of his whiskey while he stared at her, taking in every inch, every imperfection, every everything.
It went on long enough that one might even begin to squirm under that intense, ice blue stare.
Then he turned back around, finished his drink and tapped a big knuckled finger on the bartop.
His voice was soft, but it carried across the silent room. An hour ago, he wouldn’t have been heard, thirty minutes ago no one was there to listen. Now the music was off, the patrons gone, only the dead, the employed and the drunk remained.
“That so.” He rumbled. “After decapitation, you can remain conscious for up to twenty seconds or so. Ain’t that jus’ depressin’ as all get out.”
The lingering stare didn’t seem to unnerve the woman. In fact, she seemed to be used to it. Yet, she rose her hand and gently brushed her bangs to the side.
Her eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t usual to find someone being okay to talk about death outside of her work.
“I am not sure- it’s been shown that the pain instantly fades and then as a defense mechanism for the brain- it protects itself- of course- human survival and all- So the person actually starts to feel at peace and there’s this feeling of ease and-” She immediately stopped herself and her brows furrowed.
Did she go too far? Her two close friends Vigo and Barafu always encouraged her to be herself and she can around them.
It… was other peers she had more difficulty with.
Jak watched her. Just watched her for a few moments. This strange woman was something no one else had been in more than thirty years.
“Interesting.”
He lifted his glass and took a large swallow of the whiskey. “Caleb, get the lady a whiskey. Anyone who spends that much time around the dead deserves a good drink every now and again.”
The man behind the bar nodded and pulled a thick glass tumbler from under the bar and poured about an inch of the amber liquid into it.
Jak looked around and gestured at the glass. “Yer gonna be here a spell, lass. Might as well pop a squat and have a drink.”
“No, thank-” Maeva paused her words as her comm vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the message.
Der'rick was going to be hours. Maybe Drevdea had plotted this. If she was meant to be here and it was going to take hours for her to prepare the body, she should take up on the man’s offer. Her attention went over to the sheeted body for a moment as she considered it.
She was taught to respect the dead until the process was done. Would Drevdea be disappointed in her for being careless and paying the body no mind? Was this a test? She considered it for a moment before the violent hues looked back over to Caleb.
“Speaking of the body, you might want to turn the temperature lower. However, it’s a Trandoshan, so you do not have to turn it down too much.”
Then she took the glass and took a sip as she winced at the burning sensation going down her throat as she did a half cough. This reminded her of a drink she had at celebration when she graduated from the military academy with her friends.
Was this the same kind of drink? That whole night was a blur and she remembered none of it.
“As for spending too much time with the dead… I prefer them than the living,” she absently minded play with the beads around her wrist.
Jak looked at Caleb.
Caleb looked at Jak.
Both men starting laughing, one a soft sound of someone who spent a lot of time laughing at drunks, the other a harsh bray that came from the soles of his feet.
Jak laughed so long and hard that he had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes. “Lass, I ain’t been fond of livin’ folk aside from ol’ Caleb here since long before you was born.”
He stood up and stretched to his entire height, with a grin. “Livin’ folk talk too much. The dead'r much easier to talk to.”
He held out a huge, meaty hand. “Name’s Jak. Jak Ordo, yes those Ordos, no I don’t wear armor anymore. I’m retired.”
Caleb kept laughing softly and turned to adjust the cooling system of the bar.
Maeva was startled at the men boisterous laughter. She watched them as her fingertips pinched the black bead that rested on her bracelet. She gave him a look when he mentioned their ages. She just started her new job and it was already annoying that they treated her differently just because of her age.
Then her lips curved into a smile but being careful not to show her teeth. She extended her hand to grasp his. Her grip wasn’t weak but it wasn’t strong either. Her slender fingers with trimmed sharp black nails were careful not to pierce him.
“That they are, and they don’t judge.” She felt less awkward. Does he talk to the dead too? Visit cemeteries? See ghosts?
Her eyebrows rose in interest at hearing the Ordo name but it was gone as fast as it appeared. The words ‘I’m retired’ was a hint for her to not discuss it.
“I’m Maeva, I work for Gooi Moord but sometimes fill in for others when others in the system are-” She glanced over to the body and knows that there’s been shortage of staff lately or even room for the bodies due to the politics lately.
“Short staffed. Do you visit cemeteries? Ashes in urn or tattoos, perhaps? I mean- do you talk to the dead too?”
Jak raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He watched the woman, smiling gently. She was a bit different from most people he’d met over the years. Granted, most of the people he’d met over the years were a long time dead by now. “When you outlive just about everyone you knew, you tend to talk to the dead all the time.”
He took a sip of his drink and gestured towards Maeva. “What about you, darlin’? What got you so chatty with dead folk?”
Maeva grinned to him and shook her head.
“People thought of me weird that I do,” she shrugged and tilted her head slightly, “Aside from some with similar jobs as me.” Her violet eyes glanced to Jak’s own icy blues. Just what kind of wisdom lurked behind those tired old eyes? She glanced away and looked at the bottles that rested on the shelf behind the bar.
“I-” She paused before looking down at her glass. Religion talks made some people uneasy and she wasn’t sure if she should. Yet, he seemed more inviting than the others and he already knew she works with dead bodies for a living.
“A number of reasons, mainly that I follow Drevdea and preparing their vessels while they go on a judgement is an honor. As for talking to them.. they don’t judge now do they?”
Jak raised an eyebrow at the mention of religion, but didn’t have a whole lot to say about it. Religion for him was armor, weapons, teaching the children.
“Well, suppose that’s true enough.” He took a drink from his glass, emptying it. “They don’t talk back either. That’s somethin’ always annoyed me about live folks. They back talk ya all the time.”
He gestured with his empty glass at the now covered corpse. “I bet he back talked the wrong asshole.”
“That is true. I prefer talks about things I understand. Sometimes sarcasm gets lost on me. Sadly, it had gotten me into trouble quite a few times.” Her dark violet hues glances to the sheeted covered body for a moment before back over to Jak with a raised eyebrow.
“And did he back talk to you?”