First Reply Alone, Afraid, and Slightly Tipsy

[Gatz Derrevar]

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Coruscant was a terrible place for Gatz to be.

There was a bounty on his head, and the metaphorical price tag hanging from his ear had six zeroes attached to it. It was his reward, and his penance, for daring to spit in a crime lord's eye by trying to dismantle his slaving operation. Most places were only safe for him for a few hours, until someone inevitably showed up with a blaster in hand. He'd dodged and shot more bounty hunters in the last month than he had in the six years he'd spent as a smuggler.

That wasn't a boast. He was terrified for his life.

The one place he'd found safety was in the dangerous jungles of New Cov, but he couldn't hide out there forever. One: his pride refused to let him. And two: the jungle would only have been safe for him for so long. Eventually he'd have turned into a predator's midnight snack. He supposed he could have hid in the Jedi Temple, which had been Valery's intention for him when she'd first given him New Cov's coordinates, but Gatz wasn't sure he'd ever be comfortable with setting foot in a Jedi Temple again.

Instead, he'd packed up and flown for Coruscant. He'd managed to snag a landing pad on the upper levels, and Gatz hoped that he'd be safer staying near the more civilized top end of the ecumenopolis. That was how he found himself in his current situation: tucked into the back corner of a fancy cantina—fancier than men like him ought to be allowed into—with a drink in his hand, and his eyes scanning his surroundings like he was expecting trouble any moment.

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Tags: Open to First Reply

 

[Vulpesen]

Ozone. That was the distinctive smell that followed Vulpesen as he walked into the cantina. His cloak, made of a midnight black silk, at least had the advantage of blending in the blaster marks from where the wilder had been peppered by plasma bolts. Thankfully, the cloak was strong enough to take a lightsaber without much issue, though while his torso was well defended, his leg was another matter. Every step proclaimed his injury with a moderate limp caused by a pole which had been sung by a rather enraged gamorrean. Sure the Zorren had come out on top, but it still hurt like hell.

"Strongest whiskey, please," Vulpesen growled to the bartender, his tail flicking in irritation. Slavers were getting vicious nowadays. Someone was stirring the hornets nest and while he was never one to admonish such a worthy goal, it did make his job a bit more difficult. It was a careful balance of freeing enough slaves to make a difference, and not so many that you turned the underworld into a warzone. Someone was upsetting that balance.

Gatz Derrevar

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

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With the whole of the cantina under his watchful gaze, Gatz spotted the cloaked man when he entered the bar. He was immediately struck with a sense of anxiety, because this man seemed even more out of place than he did. But after a moment of observation, he came to the conclusion that the man really didn't look like a hunter. What bounty hunter wore a silk cloak, after all?

He walked on a limp, which wouldn't have been odd if it hadn't been clear that the man was in pain. Whatever was hindering his leg, it wasn't an old wound or something like bad joints. He'd been hurt, and probably pretty recently. It was more than likely that this fellow wasn't a danger to Gatz, or at the very least, that he wouldn't cause trouble for him.

Still though, the young smuggler opted to stay in his seat and observe. If only for now. As soon as he was absolutely certain this man was no threat, then maybe he'd let his curiosity get the better of him and approach.

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Tags: Vulpesen