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Eileen-who-is-Eileen [userpic]
Cat and Mouse
by Eileen-who-is-Eileen (eowynjedi)
at January 9th, 2008 (10:11 pm)

Fandom: KOTOR II
Genre: Romance...ish...sorta
Characters: Mical, Mira
Warnings: Light crack
Author's Note: Written for 10_whores, just because. Also, I'm trying to dispel the fandom myth that Mical is a total moron. Apparently the only thing most fic writers noticed about his dialogue was "no Atton, I think this may be a trap!" and somehow missed all the strategy talk with the Exile... better stop before I go into the full rant.

"Evening, snowflake."

Mical started and shut off his datapad reflexively... losing everything, but that was less important than someone finding out exactly what he was writing. "Yes?" he asked. "Is something wrong?" It didn't look like much was wrong with Mira; she was leaning against the door of the medbay with one eyebrow raised.

"You could say that." She stepped inside and moved to take the datapad--Mical snatched it away. "Huh, so you do have reflexes. I'll remember that."

"What do you want?"

She frowned. "I want to know why you're always sitting up late every third night mucking around with a datapad."

"It is a log," said Mical. "I am recording the events of this journey, as well as my own experiences." In a way. He was keeping a log, but it was for Admiral Onasi's benefit. And there were few, if any, personal details... aside from the report on the day he joined the Exile.

"Every third night."

"I set myself a schedule so I do not forget."

She sat down on the biobed. He wished she wouldn't. He had never felt truly comfortable around Mira. She was dangerous--looked it, acted it. She had simply recruited herself onto the crew on Nar Shaddaa to keep an eye on her "bounty." The Exile, in other words. She knew all there was to know about weapons, armor, hunting, and shadows. She was also very prickly to talk to. Mical knew this more by hearing her last conversation with the Exile than personal experience. Personally, he tried to avoid her.

Unfortunately, it was hard to avoid people on a ship like this. "So. Can I see?"

"I would prefer to keep it private--"

"Oh, why's that? You writing anything about me in there?" He opened his mouth, but she went on before a suitable answer could come to him. "Or are you writing down your fantasies about the Exile?" Her dark lips smirked. "Wouldn't have pegged a Senate Scout like you for that sorta thing."

"It is nothing of the kind!"

"Mm-hm, right, sure. Whatever you say."

"I do not interfere in your affairs," Mical said, with just the slightest edge to his voice.

Mira sighed. "You don't need to. She does." She jerked her head vaguely towards wherever the Exile was in the ship. "You've got a point, I guess. I'll just snoop around quiet-like and dig it out of wherever you hide it."

Mical looked at her quizzically, still holding the datapad in his hands. He hadn't been intending to hide it or put it down right in front of her eyes, but now he thought he would stick it down his shirt when he went to sleep. "Why would you tell me that?" he asked with suspicion and curiosity.

"Yeah. Right. You may look like your typical moonheaded Jedi, but you're a lot sneakier than you let on. You've probably got a dozen hiding places for that thing... I bet you stow it under the pilot's seat, just to tweak Atton." Mical did not show any emotion. (She was partially right, but he hid it inside of the seat itself, and only because he had thought it a good spot.) "You know I know that you're up to something, and you know I'm going to try and find out what it is, so why bother hiding it?" She sighed. "'Course, it might take a while. I didn't know you could fit this many secrets on a ship this size."

"When there are as many of us from such disperate backgrounds as we are, that is inevitable."

"No, it's aggravating. But I'll get to the bottom of it sooner or later." She spoke casually, as though she were discussing something as trivial as pazaak. Mical had the uneasy feeling he would need some new hiding places.

Mical expected her to leave after that. He began checking the medical supplies, starting a list of the things that needed to be bought if they were able to find a reputable outlet anywhere. But no--he heard her boots hit the floor, looked over his shoulder to see her still standing there. "Why are you still here?"

"You know, you're not talking as much as you usually do. You never shut up around the Exile."

Mical thought about saying that the Exile was the only one on the ship he was interested in speaking to, but he did not. He only shrugged.

"You don't like me, huh?"

He hesitated. "I neither like you nor dislike you," he said at last. "My feelings towards you are neutral."

"Oh, you're a smooth talker. No wonder you can't get her in your pants."

"I do not want to 'get her in my pants!'" said Mical indignantly. Mira only grinned.

"Whatever you want to call it." She was silent for several moments. Mical said nothing. Maybe she would leave out of awkwardness. He pulled up an inventory of supplies on the computer and began scanning through it, the datapad still clutched in his hand.

"You know, the other boys on this bucket would be calling you ten kinds of idiot right now."

Mical looked up in surprise, looking at her over his shoulder. "Why is that?"

"What, are you kidding? It's the middle of the night, you're all alone, and the bounty hunter with the leather and the cleavage drops in for a friendly interrogation? For a lot of men I've met, that would be the highlight of their life--until I ran them in for the bounty." She grinned and put her hands on her hips, looking very feral. Mical turned away uncomfortably.

"It is not the highlight of my life."

She laughed. It was just a dangerous a sound as the rest of her. He started when he felt her hand on his head, but she only ruffled his hair. "You're kind of cute, you know that?" She laughed again as his face grew hot. "Especially when you blush."