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After Cassidy returned from a little excursion with Cassian, he'd immediately gone missing for several days.

Well. No. Not exactly.

He'd just been up in his room with a supply of spice, the good kind and the better kind. An embarrassment of riches, really.

Apologies to his neighbors who might have heard ceaselessly loud music and even louder, very enthusiastic one-sided conversations. And possibly arguments.

Late one evening, Cassidy finally comes downstairs, wearing a floral patterned bathrobe and blue pajama pants with an all-over Hello Kitty print (these were "borrowed" from the Lost & Found box). As he yawns and scratches himself, he flops down onto a barstool and orders a steak. Rare. Very rare. Like, it's still fucking moving rare.

Also, whiskey.

Anyone who comes near him will catch a whiff of some vaguely pepper-like scent.

[tiny tag: Cassidy, Cassian Andor, Baze Malbus, Chirrut Imwe, Galen Erso, Bernard Black]

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It feels like he's about to audition for a role.

A role in the rebellion, fuck yeah

"Right, right, gotcha. Okay. Uh, where should I stand? Or sit?"

(OOC: Sleep calls. Until tomorrow. They're both far too good at this.)

He already has the role, he created it in the cantina,

"Wherever's comfortable for you. I'll do the recording but up to you if its easier to think of me as a droid or a member of your crew."

Edited 2017-07-24 07:11 (UTC)

"I've got a crew, too, okay," he half-laughs. "Right, then."

He decides to stand. He has sloppy posture, so he makes an effort to put his shoulders back a little. He scrubs a hand through his hair, rubs at his stubble, and clears his throat. He's ready for his close-up, Mr. DeMille.

"We rollin'?"

Cassian adjusts the holorecorder to have it at about astromech height, "You tell me when you're ready and we will be."

"Ready. Go."

Take 1.

"Heyyy, Enla! Cassidy here, how're ya doin'? So listen, my man Willix got word to me that you wanted to have a talk. Believe me, Enla, there's nothin' I would rather do than have a chat, but thing is, I'm in hyperdrive right now headed to the Lothal system, an' you how things get all the way out in the Outer Rim, y'know what I mean? I've got a couple of open contracts goin' so it turns out I'm gonna be out here for a while. But hey, I may or may not be makin' a run to the spice mines, an' who knows, I may or may not bring you back a little present.

"But before I do that, Enla, you gotta do something for me. You liked the stuff I got you, right? Willix made sure to give it to you, that was the deal. So all I'm sayin' is, let my man Willix keep the info on your connections safe until I get back. I mean, it won't make any sense to try to get it to me now, would it? But it'd be nice to have it so I know I can depend on you. Can I depend on you, Enla? I mean, Willix is alright, he's a good friend an' I trust him, but let's face it, he's not my 'in'; he's far too low in the ranks to do me any real good. But you? I'm startin' to think that you can. So, let's make this work, eh?

"--By the way, don't tell Willix I said that. He'd just mope or something. Trust me, you don't need that in the office.

"In any case! Give it a thought, won't you? I know you will. Over an' out."

He waves his hand to show that its off and then laughs,

"I had a friend who used to say that when I moped I looked like a Gungan. Maybe do another but you don't have to talk as fast. You're not in a rush unless you want to be. I could get some ship noises going for you."

"Oh, that's impossible, there's no one looks as long-faced as a Gungan," he chuckles.

"Was I talkin' fast? I didn't realize it, sorry, I'll enunciate this time, sometimes my words get ahead of me tongue. But it was good, though, yeah? Ship noises would be cool, make it more believable."

"I know, but she knew it would make me stop worrying over something. It was, yes, I liked it. Wait there," Cassian goes back into the cockpit and starts turning the ship on and it begins to hum with a few coughs.

Something sparks and Cassian curses in Festian and starts talking to the ship, "What's wrong with you? I'm not asking you to fly to Coruscant or through asteroids. Just behave."

Edited 2017-07-26 03:47 (UTC)

While Cassian is in the cockpit, Cassidy goes over to the projecting table and inspects the control panels, very tempted to push all the buttons. But he glances up when he hears Cassian cursing.

"Everything okay in there?"

The buttons are all in Aurabesh, Bar might translate some of them, they're mainly about options for the table such as games and changing the display.

Cassian thumps the ship and then it gets into a decent hum and he comes back, "Yes, fine, I wouldn't want to have to fly this ship for long but it'll work for now."

"Sounds like a real fixer-upper," he chuckles, moving back to where he was in front of the camera. Holorecorder. Thing.

"Right, then. Ready for take two whenever you are."

"Most ships are unless you get them straight from the shipyard," He stretches and checks the holorecorder, "All ready."

Once Cassian turns on the recorder, Cassidy launches into his spiel again, mostly repeating everything he'd said except a little slower and more clearly. He still gets people who say they can only understand two thirds of what he's saying, but then again, sometimes that works to his advantage.

He puts emphasis on trying to get Enla to give Cassian the data, appealing to her as if she were right there in conversation. Just like any another con. He really ought to get a goddamn Oscar for this.

And this time, he signs off with a charming little wink.

He pauses a moment, then looks to Cassian. "That okay?"

(OOC: It feels like nearing an end on this one and Cassian has some All or Nothing to share.)

Cassian nods along with a sharp smile, "Yes, perfect, I'll give it to her secretly which will make her think its even more important."

"Awesome, I've never been a secret message before," he chortles.

"Guess I'll leave it to you to take care of, then. Glad I could help, mate. Ooh, before I make off with 'em..." He unbuckles the holster and hands it to Cassian, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck, eh?"

He takes the holster back, "Yes, I think this will work and you're good at it."

Cassidy shrugs and grins, charming, cheeky, and a bit sly.

"I'm a hundred and nineteen years old. I oughtta be good at something by now."

He'll just leave that there. Still grinning, he gives him another chuck on the shoulder before heading toward the exit.

"See ya 'round, mate."

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