The pulse of music beat against the air so harshly the walls themselves seemed to be trembling. And that was nothing to the undulating curled mass of people lining the floor of the place. They writhed and bent together, until they all seemed little more than one tremendous thing composed of random flashes of human faces, twi'lek lekku and horns. A lot of different shaped horns, actually.

Quinn wasn't entirely certain he could even call the motions he witnessed any sort of dance. It looked more like a massive outbreak of something involving convulsions. "Maybe they're poisoned and enduring death throes all around us," Quinn mumbled. Not that he imagined anyone in the place might hear him. But the Mandalorian he was following along behind suddenly hitched his shoulders and glanced back at him from over an armored shoulder. He raised a thickly-gloved finger, gesturing for Quinn to lean forward.

"Steer clear of anyone trying to sell you death sticks. Stuff's new but well named," Torian told him. Quinn blinked at the dark faceplate that shielded Torian's features, wondering yet again how anyone managed to effectively communicate through such cold triangles. Trying to fit the face he'd only seen so far against the pale gloam of a holoterminal to the dark helmeted visage in front of him now was almost as maddening as the rhythmic thud of the shaking floor under his feet.

"I'm not certain it will take any particular chemical agent to do me in, if we remain out here much longer. The headache I'm enduring at the moment is quite enough, actually." Quinn sighed, glancing over Torian's shoulder at the other human. That one at least kept his face uncovered, though. It helped, to see the man's dark almond-shaped eyes narrow under black slashing eyebrows, the way he tossed back his head so that the intricate braids he used to control his black hair actually tumbled through the air.

The stranger grumbled at them in a slow, plodding voice that quite matched the concern knitting his brows over those dark eyes, his Republic-sounding accent obvious, "Not sure what's more dangerous, actually. The crowd, here. Or the fact we left the two of them back there in a room together. Plotting. Hell, Torian. And I've missed Mako, too." Torian shifted his attention to the other man, his head canted sideways. He actually appeared amused somehow, although Quinn couldn't have said how he detected the emotion through all that damned armor the Mando was wearing.

Torian shrugged, "More likely, Kas is beating him soundly for taking on that fancy new title of his. Think she'd rather bundle him up in something disgustingly soft back on Keldabe. Forever, mind you."

Quinn waved one of his hands through the air, angry suddenly. "Wait … who are you referring to? There was no indication of others being involved, here." Quinn's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "Damn it. It was hard enough convincing Pierce to remain behind. After this, he'll be quick to toss it in my face every chance, about how precious I need guarding." Pierce's newfound zeal for keeping Quinn secure was mindboggling, actually. It was obvious the soldier didn't particularly care any better for Quinn, if the sneering insults he still tossed towards Quinn were any real indication. He seemed more resentful even, if that were possible. But that didn't seem to stop him from tagging after Quinn whenever the captain was anymore than a door's length from Lusiel herself, either.

Another decent reason to stay so close to his wife, now that Quinn thought of it. Then Quinn enjoyed the spurt of amusement that came from the part of his mind which belonged solely to her, basked in it only long enough that Torian's head bent sideways as he contemplated Quinn with something like curiosity. Truthfully, Lusiel never really allowed for any real distance to divide the two of them. Not anymore.

Torian explained, "Imperial guards aren't any true match, here. Hutts only laugh at them. The worms aren't stupid enough to laugh at a Mando, though." The Republic-born mercenary snorted, smirking over Torian's shoulder towards Quinn, and he frowned back at him. Mostly because he was no fool idiot walking for the first time along the walkways of a Hutt world, with all its chaotic aberrations so alien to the order and control implicit in the Empire. But Quinn bit back any sneering response, that he knew well what value a Mandalorian had among the dregs of Nar Shaddaa.

Quinn only shrugged slowly, "You've met Pierce, actually. He can be a liability at times, with that bullheaded approach he's so prone to adopt at the least opportune of times. But he does have use." Torian shrugged.

"Figured that's why you want to meet Kas. Better to define her use," Torian grabbed against Quinn's upper arm, yanking him as he returned to moving solidly through the pressing crowd that continued gyrating over the floor of the cantina. Quinn considered pulling his arm back, if only to preserve his own precious dignity. But he decided ultimately there was little reason to antagonize the crowd, many of whom seemed to recognize Torian's armored figure far better than they did Quinn himself. Which is why he found himself liberally directed around several turns and twists of various crowded corridor before finally being jerked to a halt in front of closed and well-guarded door.

Quinn finally yanked his arm back from Torian's rough grip, "You would do well to understand how lacking I truly find such handling. I'm quite able to walk on my own, mind you." The black-haired soldier huffed a small laugh as he clapped Quinn on the back with an open palm. Quinn turned his head to regard the fellow through icy-blue eyes.

But he just shrugged, uncaring for Quinn's show of defiant temper. "Keep up the attitude. You'll be needing it inside, I'm sure." Torian shook his head even as he pushed his way through the door, calling out some Mando'a words as he went along. But they all three of them stopped just inside the doorway, staring across the room towards the strange tableau that was Kastiel and yet another dark-haired human man, slumped wearily against her shoulder as they reclined together behind a thick table.

The bounty hunter was coolly regarding her thick-headed Houk, splayed out on the floor in front of the table. Quinn studied Skadge critically even as the door slid closed behind him. The Houk's arms and legs were spread wide, so that his body actually created a huge, thick X right there across the floor. He looked dead, in fact. Like a bolt had blasted him straight in the center of his forehead so he'd toppled backwards to land flat on his back like a tree would collapse when felled by some ancient axeman. How Kastiel managed to remain so calm and level, even as her Jawa and some bizarre Mon Calamari argued over top of the Houk's downed figure was truly mind-boggling. Then she glanced over towards the doorway, when Torian called out, and her entire gaze blazed with fiery regard.

Quinn's black-haired escort sighed despondently. As if every one of his worst fears were suddenly proved real things. "See? Leave them alone for nothing more than an hour, and they just drop fucking Houks onto the floor."

Torian grunted. He reached up to yank at the lining of his helmet, releasing the seal of the thing so that he could finally bare his head. "Stop worrying, Corso. Skadge just needs to be laid low routinely. Keeps him in line."

Quinn thought his own eyebrows might be permanently raised up in bewilderment, as he stood there marveling at the disorder and chaos implicit in the scene. It didn't help Quinn's equilibrium as he watched that absurd Jawa jumping up and down the middle of Skadge's chest, while the sickly green-looking Mon Calamari insisted, "Stop it, Blizz! I'm on top of this mess, trust me! I can fix him right up, I'm a real good healer. What … why does everyone look at me like that when I say so?"

The human leaning on Kastiel looked up through bleary eyes, tried laughing but only managed a preternaturally loud hiccup instead. "Letting Gus heal Skadge's delicate Houk systems can only provide the most outstanding cap to the sheer entertainment of watching him sample the stock of Mandalorian ale. I told him so, too! You guys remember that? I said, they don't call it 'black' for nothing!" The lean-framed man dissolved into hiccupping gales of laughter, then. But Kastiel didn't even look at him before she propped him up against the backing of the cushioned bench where they both rested. She just watched their small group, still standing there in the doorway. Torian lifted his chin as he stepped further into the room, clearly accepting Kastiel's attention.

Kastiel Cadera. Quinn studied her, like he'd study something remarkable, something new and different. Because she was so much more than all the things he'd thought her, before her brother called her by name. Quinn needed to fit this new Kastiel up against everything he'd already considered, up against the woman and the fighter, the mere hunter he had believed her.

Not the laughing girl carrying off a monkey-lizard from Balmorra.

Not the coolheaded healer behind the dark faceplate on Quesh.

Not even the bitterly raging hunter looking for her stolen mate back on Hoth.

This Kastiel's dark black hair spun around her pale features, small braids on either side of her face that very nearly obscured the scars etching a vivid path against her jawline. Except for the brilliant slash of tattoo he could only just make out. Her brown eyes were wide in her face, sparking with intent as she looked at them standing there in the doorway. She watched Torian, watched every pull and turn of his leanly muscled form as he moved towards her, watched him with the clearest claim. And that's where Quinn finally found what he was looking for, finally saw what caught at him every time he caught Lusiel regarding him, too.

Quinn realized the familiarity that'd drawn him every time he was nearby the hunter, was the energy, the sheer focus that seemed to mark every one of Lucian Phyre's children. It shone in their gaze, in that heady presence they offered when they approached, looked at you, argued with you – cared for you, especially. It was like some fire lived there in each of them, burning bright with the most awesome power. Looking at her, Kastiel was very suddenly, to him, his own Lusiel's little sister. And it was there, in that twist of her gaze as she found Torian and everything suddenly lightened in her. That's when she looked as Lusiel did, scars or no.

Because that's how Lusiel looked at him whenever it was she whispered his name, whispered, "Malavai."

The satisfaction of the memory curled through him, and the bond that belonged to him and Lusiel alone warmed over his senses. It's why he stood there, calm and patient in front of the crazed melee of Jawa and Mon Calamari nonsense, the clanking of mugs against the table's surface and the catcalls coming from Kastiel's drunk-appearing companion. Quinn stepped closer to the table, idly bypassing the milling trio of loutish figures on the floor, ignoring the Jawa grabbing against the back of the absurd Mon Calamari's boot so that he tumbled backwards to land flat right next to Skadge. Blizz laughed at him, then returned to jumping on Skadge's chest. But Quinn only stepped close enough to the table he could lean forward, said to her, "You should have told me."

The other one, the man Quinn had thought was lost in some haze of drunken excess – he suddenly twisted a crystal blue gaze around to pin onto Quinn, vividly bright blue eyes. Not so drunk, obviously. Even if he did play at it. "Yea, because we make it a point to go around screaming our big sister swings pretty red lightsabers while calling herself a Wrath of fucking Imperial might. Hey, I wager real credits it would do wonders for my career, at least." Torian's hip bumped on the edge of the table, along the other side from where Quinn was perched. The Mandalorian grabbed up one of the spare mugs, staring down inside the container for some clue what it held.

"Doesn't the Republic take issue with your career already, Gaib?" Torian muttered, the briefest twinge of humor lining his calm rejoinder. The smuggler scoffed up at him, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.

"Haven't made it some point to give them keys to Port Nowhere, nope. But I still like being able to land on Coruscant when need be, though. Being labeled 'wanted' might make that a tad difficult." Gaibriel slanted a look towards Corso, lifted his chin, "Mako's with Akaavi, back at that fancy-assed bit of real estate Kas just plunked down the credits for. Pretty sure their argument's devolved into some question of security versus decoration. You might want to preserve your woman's sanity, mind you. Or at least keep her from shooting mine. I'd like to get laid sometime tonight." Corso grunted rather happily as he turned to leave.

Quinn didn't move, just shifted his attention back and forth between both the siblings. Gaibriel was utterly sharp, focused, his eyes narrowed on the Imperial insignia dotting the front of Quinn's jacket, sliding away to his sister before he shrugged and drank some more from that thick mug he was holding. Kastiel butted his shoulder with her own, just to watch him splutter as the ale went down his throat wrong and he bellowed through pained vocal cords, "Kas, you bitch! You trying to make it so I can never speak legibly again, or what?"

Kastiel shrugged, her lips twitching. "Now, there's a thought."

Quinn bent his head, studying Gaibriel carefully. Khyriel had described their younger brother – that he was "unique, like no one I've ever known. He plays, as if life is some incredible joke. There's strength in him, but it's unlikely he'll ever show it. Leastwise not to anyone in service to the Empire." Gaibriel's eyes were distinct, shining like ocean-blue stones set deep in his face. But the line of his jaw, the shape of his mouth, even the broad rock-hard strength of his brow marked him as Lucian's son. He might have been Khyriel's twin, in fact. If it weren't for those incredible eyes, Quinn thought. Until Gaib's head fell back and he laughed loudly, the cords of his neck strong and firm through the steady strength of his laughter. It was no mere chortle, no softhearted snigger. Gaibriel laughed like it was a force all its own and determined to escape from his chest in one mighty heave, like laughing was more than natural to him. Like it was part of him.

Khyriel never laughed like that, Quinn knew.

Gaibriel snorted, "Admit it! You'd mourn, if I wasn't able to regale you with my witty banter! You depend on me, to keep the lot of you from falling into the deepest pits of utter despair!" He twisted his head around, his eyes still twinkling as he looked at Kastiel, "You'd miss me."

"Hah. You only think so." But Kastiel smiled softly, hard, "No, I'd destroy anyone who tried taking you from us again, rather." The promise was a heady thing, and it throbbed there in the space. As if it had a heartbeat all its own. Torian grunted some Mandalorian words that Quinn didn't recognize, something like, "Cuun aliit. Ner vod." The Mando pointed Quinn to the nearest chair, then, and pushed another mug across the table towards him. Quinn didn't partake, though, glancing towards the still unconscious form of the downed Skadge, instead. The Houk had actually curled up on his side by now and he was snoring, so that they could tell at least that he wasn't dead. But Quinn wasn't willing to find himself in a similarly inelegant position, either.

Gaibriel laughed across the table, "So. You as scared of the Voidhound as you are the Black Ale?" Then he laughed again, "Hey, is anyone here actually surprised the entire galaxy's finally started calling me a dog?" Kastiel chuckled when Quinn sent them both a confused-looking frown.

"Don't let Gaib's reputation scare you. Just rub his stomach and he rolls over panting."

"Hey, are you calling me a puppy, Kas?"

"Just cute and adorable. I thought you were used to that from females, mind you."

"Not any of my sisters, actually. You're all more likely to try swatting me with some rolled up paper. Makes me nervous as hell."

Quinn glanced down into the bottom of the cup in front of him again as they bantered back and forth, scowling slightly before he looked up at Gaibriel again. The smuggler wasn't smiling anymore. He only stared down towards the markings on Quinn's uniform jacket with a strange expression on his face for some long moment. Long enough, actually, that Kastiel managed to maneuver herself into a seat over Torian's hard, armored thigh. Not that Torian stopped drinking from his mug, even as he wrapped his hand over the curve of Kastiel's hip and held onto her, held her like she belonged that close to him always.

Quinn poked the surface of the table with a pointed finger, "All jokes aside, you should have told me, hunter. It would have avoided so much trouble. My lord ... Lusiel would have been able to help. Both of you, actually." Pain flashed over Kastiel's face, real pain. It actually startled Quinn to see it, if only because he'd never imagined the hunter in anything like distress. He'd been more prepared for something like defensiveness, some bitter rejoinder maybe. Then Gaibriel grunted, "It's done, actually. Don't, Kas."

Kastiel wrapped her arms across her abdomen, and Torian suddenly reached out to break her self-protective position, gripped her forearm steadily to keep her from curling inward on her own self. Offering her protection almost, it looked like. Kastiel stared over towards Quinn, "A sorry bit of calculation. I figured Lusiel was like any other Sith, actually. Didn't realize otherwise, not till I sat down with Khy on Corellia."

Quinn's eyebrows went up. Then the corner of his mouth twisted into something like a small grin, "I tried making similar determinations before I truly came to know her. But she defies expectations."

Kastiel still frowned, still angry with her own self. "The Sith are made to fight on Korriban. They fight monsters and ghosts and even each other. Especially each other. They tell themselves hate and anger – that those things harden them, make them more powerful. So I thought she knew what they did to Khyriel, that she allowed it. I was wrong."

Quinn frowned, "I don't understand."

Gaibriel sighed with the purest sarcasm. "You'd think one of the Empire's officers would be able to look over the medical records of its agents. I never imagined they actually respect a man's privacy, rather. The things we learn when we sit down with someone wearing the uniform." Gaib slanted a sardonic look towards Quinn, "I'll be rather grateful if you let the Hejarans continue thinking I'm fried and dead. But if I could meet one of them off on some lonely locale, think I'd like discussing my older brother. And that's all I have to say on that score. You've got directions to Port Nowhere, Imperial. Don't bring too many friends with you when you visit." Gaib ambled towards the nearby doors, singing out as he went, "Gus! The damn Houk's sleeping it off, for crying out loud. He's not fucking dead, not even dying. Too bad, that. Now, I'm leaving."

Quinn was quietly contemplative, his attention still focused on the bounty hunter who was directing Blizz to watch over the snoring figure of Skadge. Apparently, they intended the Houk remain where he lay, right there on the floor. With only a Jawa to guard him. Incredible, Quinn thought. "You must have used an inhibitor, to have won some imbibing contest over such a massive specimen of Houk, I would think."

Kastiel shrugged, "A Mando uses the tools available, if it means her opponent's the one who falls down on the field while she walks off it with the title victor. Skadge's always been too slow to understand, that size is no measure of triumph nor success. Eventually, he may even learn." Behind her, Torian grunted and ran his hand up her side until his open palm cupped over the scarred skin of her throat, just over the inked art that marked her as his own.

Quinn nodded carefully, still and quiet as he leaned even closer. Coming at least to the reason he'd even set foot on Nar Shaddaa. Especially now. "Lusiel carries our daughter. The birth will come very soon, though. She wishes you be there."

"Heh, I've found a target, some fool who took up the bounty even after I started breaking them all to pieces. Once that's finished, I'll make my way to you." Kastiel lifted her chin, promising him, "She's my sister, Malavai Quinn. Don't care what rules she follows, except that she's my sister. I'd go down into the bowels of hell itself, if she needs me, even. Far simpler, just to show up. You tell her, she can count on me being there. Tell her what I said."

Torian leaned back on his heels, there on the wide expanse of bed. Kastiel lifted her gaze to find him but she didn't raise herself up, only remained flat against the surface of cushions and blankets that lay underneath her bare body. She only looked up to meet his eyes, to find his golden gaze watching her, watching the slow slide of brilliant colors coming from the kiosk that slid by outside the wide windows on the other side of the room, that drifted over the flesh of her stomach and up across the swell of her breasts. Her nipples actually peaked with excitement, turning into hard, prominent bumps under that solid interest of his, the way he so obviously wanted her. And Torian groaned low, almost growling as he looked back up into her dark eyes.

"You do that on purpose."

Kastiel grinned, "Only way to stop it, would be if I didn't want you back just as much."

Torian reached out to pluck the bare tips of her breasts with both his hands, listening to her gasp and moan as he stretched himself over her, until her thighs were braced on top of both his own and the sensitive skin inside her legs rubbed over his hips. He felt himself throbbing, hard with keenly edged desire. He didn't even have to hold himself as he moved into position, he was so hard. Kastiel sighed when she felt the broad tip of him resting up against her soft, wet entrance.

Kastiel's hands flew up, then, until she was holding his face trembling over her own. Her eyes turned liquid warm as she told him softly, "I removed the 'plant, made sure everything's working properly. So come inside me hard, cyar'ika. Give me a babe." Torian stared down at her for a long moment. Then his eyes darkened and he moaned helplessly, "You'll drive me out of my mind before it's done, kill me with every dream and hope come real, Kas." She threw her arms around him, buried her face into the soft skin of his throat as she moaned his name, whispered, "Just be here with me, now."

And he buried himself deep.