Mara studied her reflection in the mirror, a knowing smile curving her lips. It was dangerous, what she was doing, but she couldn’t stop herself. After breaching Ilden’s Lash, she’d seen the raw hunger and need in Kell’s face, and the same impulse that had her laughing all the way through the band of dangerous protoplanets made her choose the clothing she now wore.She had gone a little overboard—deliberately. Yes, the scavengers and smugglers on Ryge liked to dress flamboyantly. Calling cards for how successful they were. A drab scavenger clearly wasn’t doing well, and they were a collection of braggarts. Nobody respected the soft-spoken, the humble. Reputation wasn’t everything, but it counted for a lot.Mara’s reputation gleamed, and everybody in the Smoke knew if they wanted merch moved, or prime scrap, she was the one to see. So she dressed the part.As the Arcadia neared Ryge, she had slipped into her quarters to change from her usual working clothes to her Smoke persona.
