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Hunter wiped his hands on the rag before tossing it on the counter, scrutinizing the rows of neatly-trimmed filets spread across the butcher block in front of him. It had been an oddly quiet day, aside from a very boisterous group of women from the school who had stopped by on their lunch break. Why they were in search of raw meat at an hour when most people would be eating prepared food, Hunter had no idea. But he had a sneaking suspicion, after recent conversations, that there was some sort of challenge going around the office that involved his attention, and their enthusiastic questions about his sausages only furthered his increasing need for caution.
It was nearing time to close, although he wasn't in any hurry to get home to the empty house. Omega would be home the following day, so he'd busied himself with extra hunting time as well as some organizational tasks around the butcher shop that he'd been putting off for a while. He found it strangely cathartic as he wiped the counters after putting everything away, enjoying the smoothness of the stone surface as his mind wandered across the various aspects of life on the island.
The gentle tinkle of the bell hanging inside the door caught his attention, and he ventured out from the back room. It was another one of the office ladies, the one he'd spoken to about the emergency beacon for Omega. She was wearing a long brown skirt with a plain blue shirt tucked into it, and her brown hair was tucked into a loose braid at the base of her neck. He wracked his memory for her name, surprised that he was coming up entirely blank, but was saved from speaking by her gentle greeting.
"Hi," she said, offering a halfhearted wave as she carefully closed the door behind her. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as her eyes flickered around the shop. "Man, I've never seen any place so clean," she admitted with the faintest chuckle that was oddly endearing. Or perhaps it was just the most emotion he'd seen from her. "Also... We Meat Again? Did you come up with the name?" She was fighting to keep her face neutral.
"I lost a bet." He grinned at the memory, shaking his head fondly.
"Ah, well... It's fantastic. I'd like to open a cheese shop next door and call it... uh..." she faltered, clearly not having thought this far into her own joke. "Something cheesy..." She cringed, then continued, "Are you all wrapped up for the day?"
"Just about," Hunter said, leaning on the counter opposite her. "But what were you looking for? I think your coworkers bought enough sausage to go around for quite a while..."
"Yeah..." Her gaze found his face for a moment before returning to their leisurely perusal of the signs, glass cases, and other elements of the storefront. "They have a bit of a herd mentality sometimes." Her tone was hard to discern, and Hunter tilted his head, assessing her body language. She seemed a little bit sheepish and a little unsure of herself, and he didn't get the sense that she was part of the whole office debacle, which put him at ease a bit. "Anyway – I've been telling myself for weeks that I was going to stop by and check the place out, so... check," she said with a small smile, moving her index finger in the shape of a check mark in the air.
"Can I get you anything?" he pressed, rubbing his hands together slowly as if itching to make himself useful.
"I don't want to make you undo all your tidying," she answered, eyeing the slabs of meat in the case.
"It's alright; it's a quick clean-up if you're not asking me to butcher an entire caraboose," Hunter said, smirking at the resulting shock on her face that quickly melted into mildly enthused humor.
"I'm not sure I'd want to see that," she said with a smile, pointing toward the thinly-sliced fambaa fillets. "But if you wouldn't mind wrapping up a pound of those bad boys... perhaps then my mouth will stop watering." He nodded, a courteous grin of his own passing across his face as he moved into action.
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"They were bad boys," he mused, laying out the butcher paper before fetching the steaks. "Took advantage of some nearby stampeding kod'yok to try to sneak up on me. Probably would have taken a decent chunk out of my leg if I didn't have enha... If I hadn't been paying attention."
"You... uh... You hunt this all yourself?" she said, eyes widening slightly as he gave a curt nod. "That sounds intense. How do you do it?"
Hunter shrugged, folding the thick brown paper in careful layers to create one neat little package, "I was trained from a young age... had lots of practice... And it seemed to address a need around here, so I'm glad to have a place to apply my... skills."
"You've been a butcher all your life?" she asked, shifting her weight to her other foot to pull her shoulder bag into reach, digging absently for her wallet.
"Not entirely. Did some other stuff here and there. Whatever it took to get by at different stages of life," he answered evenly, weighing the package and printing a small label. "How about you?" he continued, shifting the focus.
"I know how that goes," she said, delicately placing the money into his hand and taking the package from him. "Um, I had a few different jobs on Coruscant. The last one was an administrative aide for a senator's office. I thought it would be glamorous," she admitted, again letting out that quiet chuckle as though laughing at herself, then turning somber. "Needless to say, it was decidedly not what I expected."
"So you came here?" Hunter asked, tucking the money into the drawer beneath the counter.
"Yep," she said. "The thrilling adventures of Lyra. Coming soon to a holoscreen near you." He chuckled, running the towel across the counter again as he committed the name to memory. "But really... It's wonderful here. So peaceful and quiet. It's like closing a door on the chaos of the Core Worlds."
"Been here long?"
"Not really... Almost two years now. But long enough to feel pretty settled."
"Hm. Any inside info I should know?"
Lyra laughed again, almost nervously this time, shrugging as she looked at the counter, "About what?"
"The island. The planet. The comings and goings. We've been here for a number of months, but it seems to be almost too quiet. I guess I have a hard time believing that anywhere could be a perfect little safe place."
"Ah," she said, nodding slowly. "I know the feeling. But as far as I've seen, the Empire doesn't seem to know nor care about anything out here, so that keeps most of the issues away. Not a lot of conflict otherwise. Haven't even seen many pirates. There aren't any valuable natural resources other than what sustains everyone on the planet itself, so it just doesn't get much attention. It's been a nice change of pace, for me at least."
"Sounds like the sort of place the unsavory type might go to disappear..." he mused, brow furrowing slightly. Crosshair often accused him of seeing threats anywhere and everywhere, which was ironic coming from the snarky sniper, but the sense of responsibility that had rested heavily on Hunter's shoulders for the entirety of his created life so far was hard to shake. He sensed an immediate wave of discomfort emanating from Lyra, and he turned to face her more fully. "Sorry," he said, realizing what it may imply. "I just mean... You haven't seen any shady types lurking around, have you?"
"Just that tall, scowling, gray-haired man with the eye tattoo," she said, keeping her face carefully neutral. The flashes of humor and wit were so fleeting that Hunter questioned whether they happened at all. She must have known who he was from the school's initial orientation day, or from Omega's enrollment paperwork, where all of her brothers had been listed as emergency contacts and trusted guardians.
"Mmm," he agreed, tightening his lips to hold back a smirk. "Yeah, we should watch out for that one. Anyway... Sorry if that's an odd thing to say. Just trying to get a feel for a new place, you know..."
"I get it," she said, in the same gentle tone she'd used in her office when he'd asked her to keep the emergency beacon. He couldn't tell what it was about her that created an air of compassion, understanding, and quiet assurance, but it had a settling effect that he appreciated. "It's nice to feel safe," she finished, simply and quietly.
"It is."
They stood silently for a moment, pleasantly surprised by the sense of agreement and the notable lack of awkwardness, then Lyra took a step back, tucking her bag behind her shoulder and lifting her chin slightly to give Hunter another tiny smile.
"Thank you so much for these," she said, nodding toward her purchase. "I'm excited to try out a dry seasoning rub that I haven't used in years."
"Sounds fancy," Hunter commented, his interest piqued. "You like to cook?"
"I do," Lyra admitted, running an hand absently up and down the outside of one arm. "Maybe too much," she laughed, a little self-conscious. "I love being home. I have a little garden with herbs and vegetables, way too many pots and pans, and a disproportionate love of food. So I enjoy coming up with new recipes and trying new things."
"Well I'm sure your family members aren't complaining. Or whoever gets to eat it," Hunter corrected, realizing he still didn't know much about her situation.
"Just me," she said with a small shrug. "Well, that's not true – I take some meals to neighbors at times. But it's just me and my cozy little cottage. And the critters in the garden, I suppose. I'm not very exciting."
"Excitement isn't always all that it's cracked up to be."
"Very true," Lyra agreed. "Well, if you ever need some fresh herbs for all your steak adventures that Omega talks about, I'm happy to share. I've got a trick or two up my sleeve in the thrilling realm of meat marinades." Every word of hers felt somehow self-effacing and unapologetic at the same time, and Hunter found a small smile on his face.
"And you said you weren't exciting," he said dryly, earning a little snicker from her. "Although, to be honest, I'll take all the help I can get... As grateful and appreciative as Omega and Wrecker are, I think we're all getting a little sick of the same three meals. I wasn't really made for... domestic life." His tone grew somewhat sad at the end, echoes of his creation and purpose surfacing above his efforts to find his way in a new stage of life.
"I think we all find ourselves thrown into situations we'd never would have guessed, at some time or another in our lives," Lyra mused, a nearly imperceptible ache in her own slightly husky voice. Her gaze grew distant for a moment, caught only by his sharp senses before she shook her head minutely and seemed to return to the present. "Feels like getting a new pair of shoes. Awkward and clunky at first, then you wear them in until they seem to fit perfectly. You know?" Hunter's hum of agreement was lost in her words as she continued, "Unless they're high heels. Those are just cruel and unrelenting."
"Now that I definitely wouldn't know about," he said, ducking his head to run an idle hand over his hair, most of which was pulled back near the top of his head.
"You'd be wise to keep it that way," Lyra said with a smile, feeling the conversation coming to a close. "Anyway... Thanks again for this," she said, patting her bag, "And I'll see you next time!"
"See you," Hunter echoed, watching her slip demurely out the door. He sighed, casting a glance around the shop and mulling over her words. The only shoes he'd ever known had been combat boots, made as much for him as he had been made for them. It had been simple, in a way... And then his singular, straightforward trajectory exploded like a firework into a million different paths, leaving him scrambling to try to choose the best one for him and his squad. It was hard to believe that now, after years of chaos and tumult, he could settle into something like a simple island life.
He finished the few remaining clean-up tasks and turned the sign on the door before locking it behind him, taking a deep breath of the fresh air before starting his walk home. Part of him wanted that sense of autonomy and freedom that nat-borns took for granted, and yet part of him balked at the thought. Why? He had no idea. But he shrugged off the thoughts as much as he could, resolving to continue on, one step at a time... while remaining prepared for anything.
