Xyl'Myrr
Blackguard
The haze of the cantina had long since faded beyond her notice, the cacophony of music, the trills of non-human speech and the distant roar of speeders lost somewhere beyond her own thoughts. Even in the seedy environment, the cyborg paid little notice to the comings and goings of these low-level dwellers, though she still chose to note each wary glance that was cast around the establishment. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, for disputes to happen amidst these wayward inhabitants, a mere scuffle riling up to a full-on turf war at times. And especially opportune was the lesser districts for crime, a certain proclivity for lawlessness with the knowledge that the police speeders rarely dived down this deep into the planet's core. Regardless, the grizzled spacer had no worry of uprisings, though her own anxiety was apparent enough in a thoughtful frown. The last run had been unexpectedly, unsuccessful, and her freighter bore the fresh scorch marks to prove it. A tridactylate hand etched grooves in the table at which she sat, the rough cybernetics marring the surface as she brought a bottle to her lips. Whatever that Rodian had stowed in those blaster crates had obviously stirred the attention of someone, otherwise she wouldn't have had the pleasure of being shot at again. Spice, she guessed, contraband perhaps?
In the window of her vision, of what her cybernetic eyes perceived, she noticed that of a particular figure, keen to stick to the shadows of the nearby doorway. Just enough of them was hidden, though their constant stare held her intrigue well enough. It was always a useful attribute, that none could determine of what she looked at beneath the technology framing her face, and of course, she held that gaze just the same for the stranger. An instinctual twitch at the waist she made, checking the position of her blaster pistol in discreet etiquette. The cyborg was not unused to discriminating stares, but this one bothered her more so at the moment. And with a small quip, Xyl addressed the lurking individual.
"Why don't you take a walk pal, or you got something to say?"
In the window of her vision, of what her cybernetic eyes perceived, she noticed that of a particular figure, keen to stick to the shadows of the nearby doorway. Just enough of them was hidden, though their constant stare held her intrigue well enough. It was always a useful attribute, that none could determine of what she looked at beneath the technology framing her face, and of course, she held that gaze just the same for the stranger. An instinctual twitch at the waist she made, checking the position of her blaster pistol in discreet etiquette. The cyborg was not unused to discriminating stares, but this one bothered her more so at the moment. And with a small quip, Xyl addressed the lurking individual.
"Why don't you take a walk pal, or you got something to say?"