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[seenitbefore]

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[livesfree]

Somewhere along the line, Cassian and DJ become friends, or the closest equivalent of friends that DJ can actually have. So much so (and absolutely not because he stumbled upon it by accident), Cassian knows a few pockets of hideouts that DJ uses on top of his usual haunts.

Right now, it's a dingy cantina, the kind that you have to watch your credits in. DJ's a regular (until he decides to move on, of course, or until he decides to swingle the whole place just because he can) and at the bar he's got a rather expensive looking drink.

It's not like he's actually paid for it. He never does, not with how easy it is to slice into their droids and computers. He happens to be glancing around when he sees him--cleanshaven, looking strange, but still good (far better than DJ ever has). Attractive, even, and when DJ smiles he feels a weird twinge of jealousy.

"Look what the cat d-d-dragged in," He greets, and flourishes a ringed hand to the empty seat next to him. He's in need of a shave, and his hair is mussed underneath his favourite hat, but for the most part he's pretty clean. He's come into wealth, recently.

[seenitbefore]

Just for that, Cassian flashes him the smile that goes with the rest of it, ingenuously sweet and a little shy. It disappears the second he slides into the proffered seat. "We can't all be fashion icons like you," he says, mildly. (Which is to say, in the particular idiom of wary not-quite-boys, you're not looking half bad yourself.) "That hat's a classic."

Part of him, the part that's still a stupid kid despite his best efforts, wants to just... skip all this. Lean in to press himself against DJ's rangy height, make him laugh, get out of this dive and find somewhere to kiss that smirk off his face, and just... leave business till later. Just for now.

Which is pathetic. What is he, fifteen? Cassian shuts those thoughts down firmly, crosses thin arms on the bar. "Break anything interesting lately?"

[livesfree]

"Hearts," DJ says mildly, though judging from the look on his face he's joking. He is--mostly--because if anyone has a lot in life as a handsome playboy, it isn't him.

But he's perfectly fine with it. That'll be Cassian's job. Making out for intel, like it's some sort of teenager's holovid. He taps the bar, surprisingly graceful for someone who looks stronger than he actually is (he's all stocky frame and not much else), and motions for the server to pour Cassian whatever he wants.

"Done a few jobs. Lately, casinos. Pleasure planets--settin' up a pretty nice system lately." That's all he's really going to say about it, too. Cassian gets the most information out of DJ anyway, especially for someone not paying. Probably because DJ thinks he's cute.

"What brings you to meeting little old m-m-me for a sit-down? Finally give up the whole resistance idea?"

[seenitbefore]

By now Cassian's trained himself not to rise to that bait (any more than he lets his eyes follow those curiously graceful gestures); the only reaction it gets is another smile, with a few more teeth in it. "Maybe I just missed your bad jokes."