Impressions were everything, and first impressions were almost entirely accurate, if you had an eye for detail and a nose to sniff out the deeper truths. The location for this meet and greet was decidedly not the base of operations for a major crime lord within the Black Sun. This was simply a place to hold conversations where listening ears and prying eyes were kept at bay. Still, it had some sense and semblance of style within the durasteel walls of an underground reconstituted light rail station. The Vertical city boasted tons of sky lane traffic, and the more primitive and nearly defunct light-rail tunnels were less and less common. This one had been transformed into a secure location where deals could be struck, where both men and women could meet and discuss the seedy, the dangerous, and the profitable. What had originally been the conductor's personal office, after a turn-turn style and a loading bay platform was now a minor port of Blitz's territory that had been turned into a somewhat foggy den where he held a modest study, and a few plants here and there to offer some life into the murky setting.
Sitting of to the right in a makeshift throne, draped with some dark velvet fabric was the man in charge. A blend of eclectic and casual garb, with a relaxed yet still dominating posture sat Blitz puffing on a custom deathstick. A lamp stand to his right held a small pedestal where a curious beek-monkey sat perched munching on a slice of sweetfruit. Smoke rose in tendrils from his lips and nostrils while he sat looking over a log manifest on the datapad in his hand. A pair of digital shades rested on his face, the image of his datapad being reflected somewhat in the glossy black of each square lens. He was ultimately aware of his next appointment being let in by his two trustworthy brothers just outside the office proper. The decor gave a sense of karmic calm to the office, various spices burning to give an exotic but soothing aroma to waft throughout the space. A pleasantly comfortable armchair remained empty facing Blitz's corner desk that was littered with flimsis and various other articles of note. There was even a rolling station for some of his preferred spice sticks that he would dabble in a pseudo-chemist. Still it looked like a disorganized mess.
As the Kiffar stepped through the threshold and into his sanctum, Amaul lowered the datapad, letting it slide onto the edge of his desk before his fingers steepled together in front of his face. Word had spread about the Kiffar with a saber that was doing less than legitimate Jedi work around the nearby systems. There were praises, and there were citicisms, but they generally evened out to make him more profitable than irritating. Amaul did not abide useless people, and he help no grace in his speech or actions for lazy employ. This is why he personally vetted every single contact he made, for every job that he dished out. If they didn't pass muster with him, they didn't get a contract. Some obviously slipped through the cracks, but people didn't hear from those again.
"There's been talk and tale about you." Blitz said before the Kiffar was even seated. "I don't much subscribe to the hearsay and gossip, as it's just background noise. Rep is one thing, fact is another. I aim to see if you can live up to the hype."
[member="Tai Shol"]
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