The Stowaway

We're barely a day into the darkness of space before something gets our attention. Or rather—someone.

"Sly! Get down here!" Nyssa and I hear from Celeste in the cargo bay. The urgency of it sparks my interest, and cuts me away from the intense staring I was doing at Nyssa's chest. We race down to cargo, and find Celeste aiming my blaster at... a redhead?

A stowaway...

"Who the hell are you?" Nyssa says, taking a cautious step behind me as I slowly take the blaster from Celeste. I'm the more experienced gunslinger. The redhead girl in the midriff revealing shirt kisses her teeth.

"M' Rose."

"Rose. You realize this is a private ship, right?"

"I know. Fuck off."

"Someone's got a mouth on her," Celeste says.

"I'm just here until you dock! Had to get off Strand and your cargo bay was open—"

"Yeah that isn't a fucking excuse," Nyssa says. She takes a step forward, but I hold a hand up to stop her.

"What have you heard..."

"A lot. Nothing. Doesn't matter," she crosses her arms, giving me a pretty decent look at her pale cleavage. "I jus' know you're some big shot."

Can't exactly take the risk of this "stowaway" reporting us. But I make it a matter of interest to not kill pretty girls. Like it or not, she's stuck with us until the next planet. Nyssa and Celeste give me a look, leaving the matter of this "Rose" to me.