Coruscant. A planet sized city. But, just between you and me, it's a planet sized prison. The lower folk are the inmates and the fat cats that get a view of the skyline are our wardens. What to do with an image like that but grab a drink. That's what I was doing that one day in late solar cycle. I was in my offices, a small joint on the third floor of a rusted multi-storey rise down by old Nebula Avenue.
I sat behind my grey steel desk. A bottle of Onderon Black Barrell Whisky, a glass and a Felucian Tobacco cig dangling between my lips. Purple smoke filled the office. It floated like a brewing storm in the spaces high up between me and the ceiling conditioning unit. It was supposed to be like any other day, quiet and depressingly empty of potential payment.
That's when she walked in.
A Twi'lek with hips that could rock star destroyers aside and eyes that could blow planets into bits.
Emerald skin with black inked lips. Every step she took shifted her pencil skirt, she knew what she was doing, but, her eyes played the innocent game.
As she creept past by blast door panel, she tip toed over the threshold. I gave her a cynical smirk and put out my cig.
"Your far from home pretty lady." I joked.
"Not at all detective." she smiled loosely, "This is my home."
"Pretty thing like you in a rot pit like this?" I said, "It's bad to start first impressions with a lie."
"Not a lie." she said summoning some venom in return as she approached my desk. The blast door slid back into lock position with a hiss. "I live just down the road and around the corner, by Old Republic Street. Your type probably know the joint."
"My type?" I replied.
"Men" she growled. "May I?" she nonchalantly transitioned as she pointed at the chair beside my desk.
"Ladies first." I said. She definitely had the sass and misplaced confidence everyone seemed to have down here. But, there was more to her. There had to be an angle. I stand up and pull another cig from my pocket carton. Lighting it and paced about her. Time to see what made her tick, what was the deal.
"Despite what you think, I know the joint, miss?"
"Zanna." She softly said.
"You're talking about the old dancer's club, the Twi'lek Pleasures."
She flinched at its name. "Yes. The very same."
"So you one of their girls then?" I pressed the issue.
"No!" She spat back. A nerve perhaps?
"Then how can I help you?"
"My sister. She's one of their dancers. She's..." she bit her lip for strength, "she's gone."
And there it was.

....To Be Continued.....