On the 13th, Brown Fox decides to look for some better gear - perhaps a high-tech lockpick? He consults with his fire-paste dealer. Underworld check: . He manages to hook Fox up with a professional locksmith who is actually a professional thief.

His name is Larkins, a suave bothan who actually lives in the nice side of town - not far from the Imperial Academy, incidentally (that's the threat). Fox considers his approach, and decides to go with “Honest Businessman trying to eke out a humble living under the crushing fist of the empire.” In Streetwise talk, an anti-Imperial individual who is possibly up to no good. This requires some nicer threads, but Fox had fortuitously lifted a couple of rings and a nice watch a rookie took off while showering in the locker room at Shuftsbury. Skulduggery: . The threat is saved for later…

Looking suitably business-like, Fox struts off to Larkins' lair. He introduces himself at the door to Larkins' office downtown, a posh, multi-story facility. The guards ask if he has an appointment. “No,” he replies, “But Sabik sends his greetings.”

The taller guard in an Irish-like accent retorts, “Sabik who? We deal with real chummers, not some half-arsed wannabe. Look, you wanna see Larkins, y'either pay good, or y'tell him who you are.”

Fox musters up his best imitation. “Oh laddy, doncha know? I do both. M'name is O'Smythe and m'credits are as pretty as a whoore's backside. Be glad you don't know Sabik. He's the angry sort. Doesn't have my friends, he don't.” Streetwise/Deception check, add for mentioning Sabik, a “new guy in town” muscling in on Larkins' territory. Result: .

After some jaunty bantering, Fox is taken up into the apartment, weapons checked in at the door. A massive mahogany door opens to reveal a sleek, grey-furred bothan behind a wide mahogany desk. There is mahogany furniture everywhere - apparently Larkins likes the colour.

“Ah, Mr. 'O'Smythe,' how kind of you to visit. Let's get straight to business; what can I do for you?”

Fox smiles broadly. “Mr. Larkins! Thank you so much for taking time to see me. One of my junior associates, I think it was Ras, spoke most kindly of you and I see that he was not exaggerating.”

Fox situates himself with ease in the chair across from the beautiful desk (and compliments Larkins on the decor as he does so). He conducts himself in a relaxed but professional manner. “I am in need of a lock breaking device, and word is you know how someone can acquire such a tool. My partner, Sabik, likes to keep things from those closest to him. I'd like to know what that is exactly.”

Larkins gives Fox a knowing nod, and opens his arms wide. “So, my friend, what do you need to speak to me about? I believe I have vendors on the street for this purpose; surely a man of your means is able to access their services.”

“Oh yes,” Fox picks up enthusiastically, “I've seen some of your men on the street. Quality guys they are. If I show them a credit and ask 'What is it worth' they will say 'One credit' right away! Or if I show them 500 credits and ask 'What is it worth' they will say '500 credits' without a second thought. That's how quick they are.”

“Or show them a datachip like this one,” Fox reveals a small datachip, help up by two claws, “and ask them 'What is it worth' they will say 'I can buy two of those for 5 credits at any store” and they would be right. But I tell that man that this datachip contains transaction record of Sabik's less.. scrupulous dealings, and what will he say then? I ask him 'What is it worth' and he will not know.

“Or if I tell him that Sabik has recently acquired some heavy mining equipment. Your vendor will ask me what Sabik plans on doing with it. I will tell him I don't know, but that I do know about the secret tracker placed on the largest machine, and I do know the hyper-frequency that that tracker operates on. 'What is that worth?' I ask him, and he will not know.”

“And that is why he is a vendor on the street. And not a successful business man seated behind a very large, very beautiful desk. (Is that mahogany?) Because he know the value of a credit, but you know the value of information.”

Larkins sits back in his chair, fingers steepled. “You have my attention. Let's talk numbers.” The negotiation begins. Streetwise + for the mahogany desk comment, upgrade since it's the only copy of the datachip vs . Result: .

They come to an agreement - 1125 credits; Larkins also gives him a Molecular Stiletto, a model manufactured in-house; he wants your feedback, as he is considering manufacturing these on a mass scale (that's the ). They shake hands on the deal, and Fox leaves with a brand new, state-of-the-art Larkins E-pick™ and an unbranded stiletto. Very sharp and deadly. Disclosure: the Despair meant that Larkins is a friend to Larness, and will sell intel on your activities to him. He recognized the ISB tattoo, and was suspicious (combined with the earlier Skulduggery threat).

“Gee, what a swell guy,” Fox thinks to himself as he walks out.

Fox decides to set his Watchers on the trail of Ysanne, hoping to catch a lead on Via's whereabouts. They stake out the Imperial Centre where she works as one of several receptionists for Commander Larness. Because she works shifts, the Watchers have to watch in shifts as well.

The first day was quiet - it must have been her day off.

On the second day, the Watchers miss the Falleen arrive, but catch a glimpse of her leaving at 20:05 from the North entrance, catching an Imperial government hovertram (not a public route). They couldn't catch up in time to discover her apartment.

Day 3, with focus on the North entrance, the Watchers see her arrive at 9:54. Nothing too unusual during the day, and Ysanne leaves her shift at 20:07. The Watchers can't ride an Imp-only hovertram, but with more time they might be able to coordinate a multi-person patrol. These secure trams won't go across town - so Ysanne probably lives in nearby governmental apartments.

Fox sets up a plan that evening. The next morning the entire Watcher crew covers the Imperial tram route, marking Ysanne's tramstop outside a shabby block of official Imperial apartments well to the south of Imperial Centre.

After the Falleen gets to work, Fox consults Merlyn regarding her species. ( Xenology check: ) Merlyn hasn't had many dealings with Falleen, and so isn't familiar with their physiology or biology; he has heard rumors that they are very attractive to a wide range of species - maybe one was voted Ms Galaxy during the Clone Wars? But he does have it on good authority that Falleen are used by the Empire as “pleasure specialists”, willing or not.

The shistavanen makes his way to Ysanne's stop in advance of her estimated arrival that evening. Fox waits in sight of the tram stop, beyond the brightly-lit area of the security lamps as the sun sets on Bin Prime. Dark clouds loom above the horizon, creating a sharp line of black above the sun's fading orange glow.

There is a fair amount of foot traffic swirling around him, revelers heading out for the evening or workers come back from their shifts, pickpockets in their wake. The latter take a look at the Shistavanen and quickly avoid his grim visage.

The headlights of the hovertram outline the heavy traffic, and Fox sees the falleen step off amidst a handful of humans, all Imperial Centre employees. His spot is chosen carefully, and Ysanne walks firmly in his direction, avoiding the gaze of the other pedestrians, intent on reaching her apartment.

Fox stands, walks casually past her, then attempts to give her his number; he turns around and looks at her. “Your perfume reminds me of home; of comfort and peace and belonging. Thank you for the special impact you had on my day!” Fox then passes her a piece of paper “My number - I'd love to have a drink with you sometime….” Charm:

Fox's words give Ysanne pause, enough that he is able to hand her the note, which she stuffs in her pocket and gives a fake smile, and she turns away quickly. On the bright side, she didn't throw the paper away.

He struts away with a bounce in his step.

Ysanne opens the paper and sees a note saying, “We believe L is putting you in danger and we want to help you. Please contact me on the following secure frequency.”

Fox proceeds to a nearby caff bar. The shop has a few customers that eye him when he enters. (I'm assuming he orders some caf - 1 credit per cup for the cheap stuff, 3 for the specialty mochacaf) He finds a table near the window and facing the door, but no one else enters for the next hour or two.

While he waits for Ysanne, he turns on the playlist Swift had made for him a couple weeks back, careful to keep his heart gated against the longings it stirred.

A red-haired human behind the counter dings a little bell at 21:50. “Attention, everyone. Curfew in 10 minutes - we're closing in 5. If you don't get off the streets the patrols will pick you up.” She doesn't sound happy about the recent curfew, since it's fewer paying customers, but Fox knows she doesn't have much choice this close to the Imperial Centre. The comm remains silent.

Disclosure: she's using Larness, in her opinion, to advance in the world and maintain at least a semblance of independence. She passes the note on to him, describing you. This contributes to his later actions towards Fox. A failure might have been better in this case.

Fox leaves, deciding to buy a tagger to replace the one he placed on Sabik's equipment. Fox finds a supplier, an old half-blind Chadra fan named Kevo, and after some haggling and selling his fusion cutter, he receives a top-end Rhisome broadcaster, capable of transmitting through solid rock.

It's really late, he's really tired, and there's a lot more investigating to do…

(to be continued…)