The bidding started fast and furious, the ferengi in the corner glaring at everyone and trying to outbid Murphy opposite. RJ leaned back in his chair, fully in his spoilt-brat playboy persona, idly raising his hand whenever the bidding seemed to be slowing down. All he had to do was stay in character until Mason gave the signal.

What the signal was, he had no idea, but he’d been told he’d know.

“Sure you don’t want to slow it down there a little, hotshot?” Vayne leaned over to murmur in his ear, looping a heavily muscled arm over RJ’s shoulders. “Just remember I’m not made of latinum.”

His lips curved in a small smirk, and he caught the bar owner’s eye for a second. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Vayne grunted slightly and thumped back into his seat. RJ slid him a sideways glance, then turned back to the auction. Murphy and Mason were locked into a three-way bidding war with the ferengi at the moment.

He grinned. Okay, no signal yet, so perhaps he should liven things up a little.

“So, what’s this planet of your’s like?” he asked Mason as he leaned forward to pour himself a drink from the heavy decanter sat in front of each set of chairs around the table as though there wasn’t anyone else in the room.

He didn’t know that much about Mason’s background, but he did know that there had been a war, a real nasty one, and that Mason had fought in it. That the guy was a veteran was obvious, so that part made sense, but Vayne’s comment played around in his head. That the guy Mason was pretending to be—Raal Mason apparently—had had his ass kicked by his older brother… which must be Raan. Names one letter off… What was it with llanarian’s and names? Didn’t they believe in using the rest of the alphabet?

——-

Mason leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his bearded chin as he shot a look at RJ.

“Large,” he replied with a grunt, taking a mental side-step to think like his twin. “Profitable. A lot of natural resources.”

Of course, that assessment missed the sheer beauty of Llanaria, but then his brother had never focused on anything other than physical value, of anything, so it was completely in character.

He raised his hand to bid again as the Ferengi outbid Murphy. The stakes were getting higher, and he needed to pull the plug soon. But not quite yet.

“And that would make you what? A president?” RJ pressed, bright blue eyes alight with interest. “The king?”

Mason snorted a laugh. “Not a king. We don’t have a monarchy. I’d be the Premier.”

“Sexy and powerful.” RJ winked. “Just my kind of—“

He didn’t get any further. Vayne shot to his feet, his chair tumbling backward as he grabbed RJ and yanked him backward. “Stop flirting with him, you little tart!”

It hadn’t been the signal he was intending to give, but Mason wasn’t going to look a gift trevasi in the mouth. His chair crashed to the floor behind him as he surged across the gap and tore Vayne away from RJ.

“Leave him alone!” he growled, slamming a hard fist into Vayne’s jaw. The blow knocked the pirate back, sending him stumbling into his toppled chair. Mason didn’t let him get that far, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him bodily across the table. All hell broke loose as drinks, snacks and the case with the chip went flying. The ferengi jumped up, Murphy did the same, hurling obscenities that turned the air blue.

Then Sinistra’s people started shooting…