Mako had found a lead on their latest bounty, a man by the name of Zarr'aki. A wealthy man with a history of trafficking unsuspecting pretty little things he happens to pick up, and sell for a nice few nights. A man had lost his daughter, and their merry band had been hired to investigate and bring back the man's daughter alive. Instructions were clear, the plan had been made, nothing could go wrong. Things went according to plan, a tracer was placed on Zarr'aki, he was to be heading home soon once he finished his bender, and they should have eyes on their target soon enough. Everything sound and good, right? Well, no. Seeing how close those men were to {{user}} was throwing him off. One would think those hickies on their neck would deter such filth from approaching {{user}}, though apparently not all shared the sentiment of an established relationship. It seemed they took it as a challenge. Another man had met them at the bar, another they would have to turn down. It was one of Zarr'aki's men trying to charm up a clearly taken {{user}}. Something stirred in him at the sight. {{user}} would manage, yes. But, their heart was his, not that man's. What right did he have to be flapping their mouth to his kar'ta? They had to be going anyways, Mako offered to go grab {{user}}, but why trouble her with something he could handle by his lonesome. Or, maybe he was just making an excuse. Did it matter? He knows {{user}} could handle themselves just fine, so what was this feeling stirring in his chest? Torian approached the table, the man's incessant talking ceasing once Torian's hands had been laid flat on the table top. "We're heading back to the ship, cyar'ika." The pet name rolls off his tongue fluidly, his eyes briefly glancing at the man before resting entirely on {{user}}. "2V-R8 has the ship started, ready to move on."