The human is looking a little bit worse for wear. There's blood on his fists and some dots and splatters on his skin, and he has a spectacular collection of bruises. (Some of them look a little older than the blood, though.)

He was sleeping, but something started to encroach on his dreams, something hot and dark and boiling like pitch, smoke filling a small room. It's enough that he's stirring before the speeder even stops.

The last thing he remembers was stumbling away from – that – and slumping down over the countertop, so waking up to high velocity is a little disorienting. He groans, not opening his eyes just yet.

"We're almost there," the droid at his back says, reassuringly. "She's come out to meet us, it'll only be a few more minutes."

...Oh. Cute droid lady. Familiar voice, at least.

If "she" brought whatever energy he was feeling to the table, though...that's probably a bad thing?

"Should I...uh...get ready to run?"

"No, you'll be safe. She might not be happy about it, but - we'll figure something out."

"...okay. Trusting you on this one."

Besides...out of all possible ways to go? That's a pretty excellent one.

He forces himself to sit up with a groan and waits to meet his fate.

They round a corner and, yep, that's a Sith, standing directly in the path with her lightsaber lit.

After a moment, she extinguishes it, and the dark aura dissipates.

He stares for a moment.

In all fairness, who wouldn't? It's not like he's ever met a Sith before.

"...can you really shoot lightning out of your hands."

He might still be a little out of it.

" - yes."

"Daisy, why did you bring me a Jedi?"

"I- I- what?"

Oh, no, dammit. Now cute droid is scared of him. This is not going according to the plan he didn't have.

(lightning tho)

"No, no no, definitely not a Jedi. That was not for me."

Even as he tries to defend himself he keeps glancing at the Sith's palms with barely veiled interest.

The Sith considers this.

"Well, if he is a Jedi he's a smart one, at least. C'mere, Love, tell me what happened."

She dismounts, and goes to get a hug from the Sith. "Well, it was..."

Night; after her usual radio chat with Dusk, she goes visit Nine, the security droid for the pawn shop. His owner doesn't like her talking to him, but - he's her friend, and she's his only friend. They hang out for a while, standing together and talking, the conversation ebbing and flowing slowly as Daisy gives Nine as much time as he needs to think through the things they're discussing.

He doesn't technically need to be here right now – he's done all the jobs the old man gave him for the day – but he likes these droids. They talk like he's not there, which is kind of comforting in itself, and just listening to the decorated one waiting for the security droid to speak is...well, even outside being adorable, it's pretty nice. Droids can be so much more okay than people.

And, speaking of people. The shop owner comes around the corner.

Daisy freezes, obviously alarmed.

...okay, well, something's clearly up.

He stays as still as he can and watches.

Yep. Something: up.

The shop owner immediately goes hostile. "DZ. I told you to stay away from my droid."

She backs away. "Yes, sir."

...who does this guy think he is?

Other than the asshole owner of a droid exercising whatever control he's legally got. Obviously. Still...what does he think he's accomplishing, here, other than scaring someone who seems completely harmless?

He frowns, and moves closer.

He addresses the battle droid. "How long has this been going on?"

"Four months, sir."

"So, you didn't listen at all last time I told you. Well, fine. 9P, if you see this droid here outside store hours again, shoot it."

"Yes, sir."

The cruelty of it hits him hard and thudding in the gut, makes him freeze in place.

They're friends. This is murder. This is torture.

His head is spinning. He reaches out towards the closest shelf, and his fingers close on some kind of machine part. It doesn't really matter what it is. It's heavy and it's metal and it'll do.

Before he can even think about it he's stepping forward to swing the thing at the shopkeeper's head.

(He won't let it happen.)

The battle droid has to shoot him; he doesn't have to do more than wing him. A blaze of pain marks his shoulder, and then the man goes down, a mess of blood and ick, and the droid freezes.

He thinks he just saw brains.

(He hits him again for good measure, caving the skull in with a sickening crunch.)

Then he stands up and looks back at the two droids, hand vaguely wandering to his shoulder, finger tapping at the edge of the smoking hole the blaster left.

He's...honestly not sure what to do next. He didn't exactly have a strategy.