((Joint post with Quist))
After stowing his gear in his quarters, Latch headed to the galley for something to drink. Ducking into the kitchen area, he spotted Arelyn sitting at the table, sipping at a steaming mug. "Pretty good shooting out there," he commented as he pulled open the refridgerator to peek inside.
"Thanks," Arelyn replied. She knew she could count on her fellow gunner to be the first to compliment her abilities. "The shots were easy."
Latch poked his head out from behind the door. "You made them look easy. Jyot thank you properly yet?"
Arelyn took a sip from her mug. "Nope. Probably still trying to count how many of his ex-girlfriends really don't want him dead or seriously maimed."
Latch snickered at her comment as he approached the table, glass of nerfmilk in hand and sat across from her. "Jyot's a free spirit, what can I say. Been like that ever since I've known him. He's a good guy, just absolutely terrible with committment."
"'Free spirit', huh?" Arelyn echoed. "Is that what they're calling it now? And I'm sure he's a good person, he just needs to make sure that he keeps his libido in check or it'll get him killed one of these days."
Another chuckle from the raven-haired Corellian. "Boy, the stories I could tell you, Arelyn."
Arelyn downed the last of her drink, then stood up. "Love to hear them, but perhaps some other time. It's been a long day and I need a shower." Setting her empty mug on the counter, she waved at Latch, then rounded the corner out into the corridor and disappeared from view.
Latch shook his head as he watched her go. She wasn't the newest member of their crew anymore, but he only knew her slightly better than their latest additions. Still, she was a pleasant enough conversationalist, at least when you didn't piss her off. He chuckled as he remembered her thin-lipped diatribe to Kadis on the ice planet. Latch wasn't a Jyot Tyrell, but he'd had his fair share of female companions in his time, so he couldn't help wondering if there was a spark between himself and Arelyn. He tried to follow a policy of not dating his co-workers, but there were always exceptions.
Still musing to himself, he stood up and moved to the counter, then stopped. Leaning against the far bulkhead was a long, black case, one which he immediately recognized as Arelyn's rifle case. She'd probably forgotten it in her haste to shower. Setting his glass on the counter, Latch bent over to heft the case strap onto his shoulder. As he turned to face the door, he misjudged the length of the case and his turn caused it to swing right into Arelyn's mug. Hearing the clink of hard plasteel against ceramic, Latch whirled in time to catch the mug with his outstretched hand, then stopped moving.
"What in space...?" he muttered to himself quietly as he observed the mug, which was not in the clutches of his fingers, but was hovering in mid-air mere centimeters away from them. Blinking a few times, he moved his hand forward slowly until he gripped the mug firmly in his hand, then brought it up and set it in the sink. Holding his outstretched hand in front of his face, Latch frowned. "Well, this is something new..."