Gary The Barkeep
New Member
Gary the Barkeep (The Galactic Refuge)
Full Name: Gary the Barkeep
Age: 265 standard years (≈ 65 human-equivalent galactic years)
Species: Enisar (ages at roughly one-quarter the human rate)
Gender: Male
Height: Approximately 4 feet
(Gary has never formally measured himself and does not care to.)
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Current Location: Nar Shaddaa — Promenade District
Faction: Independent
Associations: Intergalactic Tavern Association (President)
Occupation:
- Proprietor, The Galactic Refuge
- President, Intergalactic Tavern Association
Force Sensitive: No
Physical & Behavioral Notes
Gary is a short, broad Enisar with a noticeable waddle when he walks—an endearing, unmistakable gait known to regulars across Nar Shaddaa. He moves with confidence despite his size, often leaning on the bar with an easy familiarity that suggests he belongs there more than the furniture itself. His posture is relaxed, but never careless; Gary is always aware of who is in the room, who just arrived, and who should probably leave soon.
He is non-combatant by both nature and choice and carries no weapons. Gary has never claimed to be a fighter and has never pretended otherwise. His presence alone—reinforced by reputation, relationships, and the quiet certainty of IG-22—has proven more effective than any blaster. Violence rarely reaches him, and when it does, it stops.
Gary has many friends and more than a few personal heroes, but his respect for the Mandalorian people stands apart. He holds their culture, discipline, and sense of honor in unusually high regard. Few know that Gary can speak fluent Mando’a when he chooses to. He rarely does so publicly, reserving it for moments of sincerity, respect, or private conversation. When he does speak it, Mandalorians tend to listen.
Without Ellie present, Gary has a tendency to grow rowdy, overly nostalgic, or overly generous—slipping into long stories, louder laughter, and questionable drinking decisions. In those moments, he becomes more barkeep than anchor. Ellie keeps him grounded, focused, and in the moment, balancing his warmth with quiet authority.
Those who know Gary well understand the truth:
he is not harmless—he is careful, and careful men live a long time on Nar Shaddaa.
Notes
Over the years, The Galactic Refuge has hosted more than its share of notable visitors—some openly, others quietly. Among the more publicly recognizable figures to pass through its doors is Chuck Tadem, HoloNet News correspondent best known for his coverage of professional galactic sports. Tadem’s visits are remembered less for spectacle and more for long conversations at the bar, usually about teams, seasons, and the state of competitive leagues across the Mid and Outer Rim.
Gary has also hosted Rich Greyfield, star player of the Nar Shaddaa Ballers, as well as an entire pod racing team from Tatooine following a successful circuit run. On those nights, the Refuge was unusually loud, unusually cheerful, and—by all accounts—entirely incident-free.
Gary himself is a devoted sports enthusiast. He follows multiple leagues closely, remembers statistics with unsettling accuracy, and is known to argue strategy with players as easily as he mediates disputes between factions. More than one regular suspects that Gary’s interest goes beyond fandom; rumors persist that he has quietly explored opportunities to invest in or even acquire partial ownership of a sports organization.
As with most things involving Gary the Barkeep, nothing has ever been confirmed.
What is known is that when athletes, teams, or commentators want a place to relax without contracts, cameras, or pressure, they tend to find their way to the Refuge—and Gary always seems to have their favorite drink ready before they ask.
Immediate Circle
Ellie “Ell”
Species: Chiss, Human (blue-skinned)
Role: Co-Owner; Absolute Authority of the Kitchen
Relationship: Wife of 9 years; together for 10
Ell is the heart of The Galactic Refuge. Warm, sharp, and deeply compassionate, she balances Gary’s excesses with quiet, immovable authority. Her kindness is genuine—but never naïve. The kitchen is her domain. No one enters without permission, and no one questions her decisions once they are made.
Patrons entering the Refuge are expected to be respectful—to the staff, to the space, and most of all to Ell. Disrespect is not debated. It is simply noted, and the door is never far away.
On more than one occasion, patrons have spoken out of turn toward Ell. She has never needed to raise a hand. The room itself responds. Music stops. Conversations die mid-sentence. Glasses are set down slowly. Regulars turn in their seats, watching—not with anger, but with expectation—to see how Ell will choose to resolve the situation. More often than not, other patrons intervene on her behalf before Ell ever speaks.
Ordering food directly from Gary while ignoring Ell, attempting to overrule her, or speaking to her without basic politeness is considered a serious insult. Such behavior is universally understood as a violation of house culture and has resulted in individuals being escorted out without resistance, argument, or sympathy.
Ell has a dangerously large heart, particularly for the poor and misfortunate. Alongside Gary, she regularly feeds and waters those who cannot pay—quietly, without announcement and without expectation of repayment. This practice has earned the Refuge a loyalty that cannot be bought, only returned.
Despite her warmth, Ell tolerates no disrespect. A single documented incident involving a patron attempting to instruct her on how to prepare a dish ended with Ell personally ejecting the offender from the establishment. No repeat behavior has ever been recorded.
Gary and Ell are openly and deeply in love. When they take vacations together, the bar closes. When it reopens, it is not uncommon for a line to stretch far beyond the entrance—because everyone knows that when Ell is back in the kitchen, the Refuge is whole again.
IG-22
Model: Repurposed IG-series Assassin Droid
Role: Bouncer; Security Chief; Companion
IG-22 is something else entirely.
Whether a droid or something closer to an animal in instinct, no one can say for certain. He is stoic, motionless when still, and always watching—not scanning, not searching, but observing. His photoreceptors track rooms the way predators track herds. He is never far from Gary, and he will never leave Ell’s side. Only when local laws or space regulations forbid his presence will he wait elsewhere—and even then, patrons swear they can feel when he is nearby.
IG-22’s origins are uncertain. Once an assassin, he has, on rare occasions, taken bounties for reasons known only to himself. Those reasons have never been explained—not to Gary, not to Ell, not to anyone. Since assuming his formal position at The Galactic Refuge, however, he has never strayed from their side. Some say he found purpose. Others say he found a home. No one knows. IG-22 has never clarified.
What is known is this: no weapon has ever passed the door when IG-22 was on duty. Not once. Not by smugglers, not by bounty hunters, not by fools testing reputations. From the day the Refuge opened its doors, IG-22 has manned the entrance, and the rule has never been broken.
When violations occur, IG-22 acts with absolute, surgical precision. He does not raise his voice. He does not threaten. He simply removes the problem. The most egregious offenders have been ejected with cold calculation—efficient, final, and unforgettable. Survivors do not return. Others learn quickly.
His loyalty to Gary and Ell is absolute and unquestioned. Even bounty hunters understand that all pursuits end at the threshold. There are no negotiations. There are no exceptions.
No one knows how IG-22 came to stand beside Gary and Ell. No contract exists. No record explains it. The three simply are—and have been for as long as the Refuge has stood.
Those who notice such things will tell you the truth:
IG-22 is not the bar’s security.
He is part of the Refuge.
The Galactic Refuge
Location: Nar Shaddaa — Promenade District
(Several levels below the Star Cluster Casino)
Designation: Neutral Ground
Reputation: Sanctuary, rumor exchange, and conflict-free zone
The Galactic Refuge occupies one of the most corrupt stretches of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade, a district better known for bribes, ambushes, and disappearances than safety. That the Refuge remains untouched is not coincidence—it is understood.
]The Refuge maintains an unwritten standing with local law enforcement and sector security:
keep trouble away from the Refuge, and the Refuge keeps trouble from spreading. Patrols divert disputes elsewhere. Raids do not cross the threshold. When violence erupts nearby, enforcement pushes it outward, not inward. Everyone involved understands the arrangement benefits all parties.
Within its doors, Imperials, New Republic citizens, smugglers, bounty hunters, and drifters sit side by side without incident. Business—legal or illegal—is strictly forbidden. Violence is nonexistent not because it is discouraged, but because it is impossible.
The Refuge is also known for something rarer on Nar Shaddaa: quiet opportunity. From time to time, Gary and Ell take in those who can prove they need work—dishhands, runners, cleaners, servers—just long enough for them to regain footing. No contracts. No questions asked beyond what’s necessary. When people leave, they leave fed, paid, and better than when they arrived.
Gary and Ell make certain of that.
House Rules
(Posted. Enforced. Not Debated.)
Blasters and heavy weapons are surrendered at the door
No deals, contracts, or pursuits of any kind
No interference with staff
The kitchen is Ell’s domain
IG-22’s judgment is final
Bar Tokens (Favors)
Distributed and never advertised. They are not currency. They cannot be sold, traded, or redeemed openly. Possession of one does not make someone powerful.
It makes them owed.
A patron holding a token knows one thing with certainty
The Galactic Refuge owes them a favor.
What form that favor takes is intentionally undefined. It may be information passed quietly at the right time. Temporary shelter when nowhere else is safe. An introduction to someone who normally cannot be reached. Discretion when questions are being asked. Occasionally, it is nothing more than time—time to breathe, hide, or decide what comes next.
Gary never explains the rules of the token, because there are no formal rules. He decides when one is given, and he decides how it is honored. Tokens are issued sparingly, almost reluctantly, and only to those who have demonstrated genuine need, uncommon decency, or extraordinary restraint in moments where violence would have been easier.
Gary treats these obligations as sacred.
He remembers every token he has given, to whom, and why. He does not forget them, and he does not allow them to lapse. When a token is presented, Gary listens first. If the request violates the Refuge’s neutrality or endangers Ell, the staff, or the sanctuary itself, he will refuse—politely, firmly, and without apology. Otherwise, he will find a way.
There is also a persistent rumor—never confirmed, never denied—that at least one Refuge Token has been used to free someone from the darkest levels of Nar Shaddaa. No credits exchanged hands. No public complaints were filed. No retaliations followed. A person simply vanished from a place they were never meant to escape—and was later seen alive, fed, and working elsewhere under a different name.
Those who believe the story point to the silence that followed as proof.
On Nar Shaddaa, nothing that costly happens without noise.
Among regulars, the tokens are spoken of in lowered voices and never displayed. Some claim a token prevented a bounty execution. Others insist one secured passage through a sealed system. A few believe one stopped a vendetta that should have ended in blood.
No one can confirm any of it.
What is known is this:
People who redeem a Refuge Token tend to walk away alive—and changed.
And those who attempt to abuse one never receive another.
Personality & Reputation
Gary is endlessly social, welcoming, and impossibly well-connected. He knows nearly everyone—or knows someone who does—and, more importantly, remembers them. Names, faces, favors, old debts, small kindnesses: Gary keeps them all without writing anything down. He trades in stories as readily as credits, and he is never without one, whether it is asked for or not.
Some of his tales strain belief
The night he shared drinks with a Sith and walked away unharmed
The pod race he bet everything on—and won
Deals that collapsed because someone spoke too soon, or trusted the wrong silence
Gary swears every story is true. He recounts them without embellishment or insistence, never demanding belief. Whether they are true or not has long since stopped mattering. What matters is that enough people recognize pieces of their own past in those stories to hesitate before dismissing him.
Among smugglers, he is considered lucky.
Among officials, infuriatingly informed.
Among locals, reliable.
Among the desperate, kind.
Gary’s reputation is not built on fear or authority, but on consistency. He is the same man whether speaking to a drifter, a cartel enforcer, or a senator’s aide. That reliability has made him a fixture in the lives of people who rarely trust fixtures.
Ell tempers him. Without her, Gary drifts into the past—stories looping longer, nostalgia creeping in, judgment softening at the edges. With her beside him, he remains present, focused, and anchored. Where Gary remembers, Ell watches. Where Gary gives, Ell ensures balance.
Together, they are known as something rare on Nar Shaddaa
A place—and a pair—you can count on.
Strengths
Deep Pockets
The Galactic Refuge always reopens. Fires, structural damage, fines, surprise “inspections,” licensing delays, and unexplained shutdowns never last. Repairs are immediate. Supplies arrive on schedule. Staff are paid on time. Gary never explains where the credits come from—and no authority, cartel, or intelligence service has ever proven wrongdoing.
Many quietly suspect Gary’s reach into galactic trade rivals that of major banking clans, a notion that makes accountants, cartel factors, and logistics officers deeply uncomfortable. Shipments that stall elsewhere arrive at the Refuge without delay. Shortages that cripple neighboring districts somehow bypass his supply lines entirely.
Gary insists there is no secret: good timing, wise investments, and a long memory for people who keep their word. He admits—casually, and only when pressed—that he has a hand in several legitimate shipping concerns. Which ones, how many, and to what extent has never been confirmed. Records are clean, layered, and frustratingly boring to audit.
What remains a complete mystery is how wealthy Gary truly is.
He never lives beyond his means. He does not flaunt credits, property, or luxury. He dresses like a working barkeep and sleeps above his bar. Some believe bartending is simply his passion. Others insist he is the most charitable man in all of Hutt Space, quietly redistributing wealth through meals, wages, repairs, and second chances.
Both may be true.
On Nar Shaddaa, money usually announces itself.
Gary never does.
Master Negotiator
Gary rarely raises his voice and never rushes a conversation. He understands timing, silence, and the value of letting others speak first. Disputes that might end in blood elsewhere are resolved over a drink, a story, or a carefully chosen pause. Many conflicts never escalate because Gary intercepts them before the participants realize they are angry.
Information Hub
Rumors pass through Gary before they spread—but not all of what he knows are rumors.
Gary’s awareness of galactic events routinely rivals that of cartels, Imperial remnants, and New Republic intelligence offices, a fact that continues to baffle those who attempt to trace his sources. He does not employ spies, slicers, or surveillance networks. He does not collect information aggressively. People simply talk to him.
Spacers vent after long hyperspace runs. Officers confide when they think they are among neutrals. Smugglers brag. Drifters warn. Refugees whisper. Couriers drink before moving on. Conversations overlap, contradict, and repeat—until patterns form. Gary hears them all.
He remembers everything, forgets nothing, and cross-references instinctively. Details others dismiss—route changes, delays, sudden shortages, nervous behavior—become signals in his mind. Often, Gary knows something has gone wrong somewhere in the galaxy before the holonet reports it.
What unsettles most observers is not what Gary knows, but how he knows it. No credits exchange hands. No threats are made. Information flows to him naturally, drawn by trust, neutrality, and the simple human need to speak.
Gary shares selectively, often obliquely, and never at full strength. Knowing what not to repeat—and when silence is more valuable than truth—is one of his greatest skills. Many powerful figures suspect Gary knows far more than he admits.
None have ever proven it.
Absolute Neutrality
The Galactic Refuge is trusted because neutrality is not suggested—it is enforced. No faction receives preference. No patron is shielded from consequence. The rules apply to everyone or they apply to no one. This consistency has earned the Refuge something rarer than fear: confidence. People behave because they know exactly what will happen if they do not.
Beyond the walls of the Refuge, Gary himself is rumored to have quietly halted political disputes on the brink of open war—not with threats, fleets, or credits, but by knowing the right person to speak to at the right moment. A governor’s aide. A cartel negotiator’s sibling. A freighter captain trusted by both sides. Sometimes a child whose safety would be endangered if talks failed.
Gary never claims credit. He simply makes introductions, passes along a carefully worded warning, or reminds someone—gently—what they stand to lose. Conversations resume. Tempers are cool. Timetables slip. And violence that seemed inevitable never comes.
How Gary maintains such reach remains a mystery. He keeps no visible network. He commands no organization beyond the ITA. Yet his connections span cartels, remnants, republics, guilds, and civilian corridors alike. Some attribute it to his long life. Others to an extraordinary memory and a refusal to forget kindness or betrayal. Most conclude it is the result of decades spent listening when others spoke only to be heard.
Whatever the truth, the result is the same:
When Gary speaks, people listen—not because he demands it, but because experience has taught them that ignoring him is unwise.
In a galaxy accustomed to power enforced by violence, Gary represents something far more unsettling:
A man whose neutrality matters.
Weaknesses
Non-Combatant
Gary does not fight. He does not carry weapons, train in combat, or posture as something he is not. By both nature and choice, he is a non-combatant who relies on preparation, reputation, relationships, and those who stand beside him for protection.
There is only one known exception.
Once—only once in his long life—someone openly targeted Gary himself. No one knows precisely what happened. There were no witnesses willing to speak, no recordings that survived, and no stories Gary ever corrected.
The last confirmed detail is this: local security arrived and removed the individual from the district. No charges were publicly filed. No follow-up occurred. The person was never seen again on Nar Shaddaa.
Gary has never acknowledged the incident.
Those who know the Promenade understand the implication: whatever lines were crossed that day, they were crossed badly enough that others stepped in before Gary ever had to.
Since then, no one has tried again.
Nostalgic & Rowdy
Without Ell present, Gary has a tendency to drift into the past. Stories grow longer, drinks come faster, and judgment softens. He laughs louder, remembers deeper, and begins treating the bar less like a sanctuary and more like a memory he is trying to relive. In those moments, he is more likely to extend credit, forgive slights, or trust someone he should not.
On rare occasions—usually late, usually after too many toasts—Gary has been known to attempt his signature bar dive. He will climb onto the counter, ignore every warning, and leap—either into a waiting crowd or, when wiser patrons step back, straight onto the floor. Those who know him try to stop him. None have ever succeeded once Gary reaches that point.
By the time someone says, “Gary, don’t,” it is already too late.
These episodes are remembered fondly, if cautiously. They are never dangerous enough to threaten the Refuge, but they are embarrassing enough that Gary pretends not to remember them the next day. Ell’s presence prevents such behavior entirely; her absence allows it just often enough to become legend.
Regulars have learned the rule:
When Gary starts climbing, clear the landing zone.
Emotionally Generous
Gary is deeply affected by hardship. Desperation moves him. Suffering earns his attention—not because it is dramatic, but because he recognizes it. He notices the way people hesitate before ordering, the way credits are counted twice, the way eyes avoid the menu. He hears the pauses in conversation and understands what they mean.
When Gary helps, he does so quietly. A meal appears without being ordered. A drink is poured without charge. A job is offered without paperwork. He does not announce generosity or expect gratitude. To Gary, dignity matters more than thanks.
This generosity has built an extraordinary loyalty across Nar Shaddaa. Dockworkers warn him when trouble is coming. Couriers reroute shipments at personal risk. Locals intervene on his behalf without being asked. People remember who fed them when they had nothing.
It has also been exploited.
Gary is aware of this. He has been lied to, manipulated, and taken advantage of more than once. Each time, he learns the pattern, remembers the face, and adjusts—but he does not harden. He continues anyway, accepting the risk as the cost of being the kind of man he chooses to be.
Gary believes something simple and dangerous:
that a galaxy as cruel as this one does not need fewer kind people—it needs stubborn ones.
And so he remains generous, eyes open, ledger balanced not in credits, but in improved lives.
Background Summary
Gary met Ellie on Nar Shaddaa—at a bar on the Promenade, inside the Star Cluster Casino of all places. She was there on a date. Gary never denies it, never apologizes for it, and never explains what he said to her that night. He simply offered her a ride home. That ride became many.
They dated quietly at first, moving through Nar Shaddaa’s levels, learning which places were safe and which were not, which doors stayed open and which closed too quickly. They traveled when they could—short runs at first, then longer ones—always returning to Nar Shaddaa. Those who watched them said they balanced each other from the beginning: Gary talking, Ell listening; Ell deciding, Gary trusting.
When people ask Gary about his life before Ell, he changes the subject himself—smoothly, without defensiveness. A joke. A drink refill. A story about someone else. The question simply never lands. When people ask Ell about her life before Gary, she finds something else that needs doing behind the bar. A pan needs checking. A crate needs moving. The conversation ends without explanation.
Ell keeps her past close. Very close. Only Gary knows the truth.
And Gary will never tell a soul.
Eventually, they married—officiated improbably by a member of the Hutt Cartel. No records explain how or why. Rumors vary. Some claim the officiant owed Gary a favor. Others insist Ell had once saved someone who mattered. A few whisper that the ceremony was less a celebration and more a quiet declaration that certain lines were not to be crossed.
None of the stories agree. All of them end the same way.Together, Gary, Ell, and IG-22 built The Galactic Refuge into something rare on Nar Shaddaa: a place where people are safe, fed, and heard—regardless of faction or fortune. What began as a bar became a sanctuary. What began as hospitality became a reputation.
There is a standing rumor—never confirmed—that the Refuge exists not because it was built, but because it was allowed to exist. That enough powerful interests quietly decided that a place like it was necessary. That Gary and Ell were not merely lucky, but protected—by goodwill, obligation, or something no one wanted to test.
Gary laughs when asked about it.
Ell changes the subject.
IG-22 says nothing.
And the Refuge remains.
Hours of Operation
- Mon–Thu: 12:00 PM – 12:00 AM
- Friday: 12:00 PM – 2:00 AM
- Saturday: 2:00 PM – 2:00 AM
- Sunday: Closed (Private Events Only)
- The kitchen closes one hour before the bar closes; Ell may shut it earlier at her discretion.
- Happy Hour: 4:00 PM – 6:00 PM (Mon–Fri).
- Closed on Life Day, Empire Day, and major galactic holidays.
The Galactic Refuge — Where every drink has a story, and every story is safe.
Menu
All offerings follow established foodways, trade routes, and Outer Rim sourcing.
Core Spirits & Drinks
Corellian Whiskey (Authentic)
Distilled on Corellia from grain mash and aged in starship-grade casks. Strong, clean, and dangerous in excess.
Gary’s note: “Don’t insult it with ice unless you mean to start a fight.”
- Price:
- 12 New Republic credits
- 13 Imperial credits
- 10 Hutt peggats
Whyren’s Reserve
Alderaanian heritage brandy; smooth, refined, and deceptively potent. Favored by diplomats and officers who know better.
- Price:
- 14 New Republic credits
- 16 Imperial credits
- 11 Hutt peggats
Spotchka
Harsh Tatooine-distilled spirit. No polish, no excuses. Popular with spacers and Outer Rim pilots.
- Price:
- 8 New Republic credits
- 9 Imperial credits
- 6 Hutt peggats
Whyren & Spice (House Mix)
Ell’s precise blend of Whyren’s Reserve with mild Ryloth spice—warm, disciplined, and balanced.
- Price:
- 16 New Republic credits
- 18 Imperial credits
- 13 Hutt peggats
Blue Bantha Milk Ale
Fermented bantha milk blended with grain ale. Filling, rich, and forgiving to empty stomachs.
- Price:
- 10 New Republic credits
- 11 Imperial credits
- 8 Hutt peggats
Food Menu — Ell’s Kitchen
Prepared under Ell’s authority. No substitutions.
Currency Notice:
• 1 Hutt peggat ≈ 1.25 New Republic credits
• 1 Imperial credit ≈ 0.9 New Republic credits (they spend better)
• Complaints about pricing result in smaller portions.
Nar Shaddaa Flatfire Pizza
A thick-crust, oven-baked flatbread inspired by Corellian spacer foodways. Topped with spiced nerf sausage, roasted nuna peppers, melted cheese curd, and a light oil drizzle. Cut heavy, meant to share—or not.
- Price:
- 18 New Republic credits
- 20 Imperial credits
- 14 Hutt peggats
]Ell’s Market Pizza (Vegetarian)
Flatfire crust topped with Ryloth root vegetables, Dantooine greens, and mild cheese. Frequently served to those short on credits.
- Price:
- 14 New Republic credits
- 16 Imperial credits
- 11 Hutt peggats
Mandalorian Iron-Broth Noodles
Heavy, protein-rich noodles served in a dark bone broth fortified with root stock, salt, and spice. Designed to be eaten quickly, silently, and with one hand if necessary. Favored by Mandalorian mercenaries and veterans.
- Price:
- 16 New Republic credits
- 18 Imperial credits
- 13 Hutt peggats
Beskar-Hot Noodles (By Request Only
A more aggressive version of the Iron-Broth Noodles, infused with additional spice and heat. Ell will only serve this if she decides you can handle it.
- Price:
- 18 New Republic credits
- 20 Imperial credits
- 14 Hutt peggats
Nerf Haunch & Drippings
Slow-roasted nerf served with thick drippings and grain mash. Heavy, filling, and honest.
- Price:
- 20 New Republic credits
- 22 Imperial credits
- 16 Hutt peggats
Ryloth Root Stew
Hearty vegetable and spice stew native to Twi’lek foodways. Often served quietly to those in need.
- Price:
- 10 New Republic credits
- 11 Imperial credits
- 8 Hutt peggats
(No charge at Ell’s discretion.)
Corellian Grain Loaf & Oil
Warm bread served with seasoned oil and salt. Simple, filling, and reliable.
- Price:
- 6 New Republic credits
- 7 Imperial credits
- 5 Hutt peggats
Kitchen Rules (Posted, Not Debated)
- You do not order modifications.
- You do not rush the kitchen.
- You do not argue with Ell.
- If you are hungry and broke, you will still eat.
Closing Note
For all his stories, connections, and quiet influence, Gary has one lifelong dream he speaks of only in passing: to own a professional sports organization. He follows the leagues obsessively, remembers players and seasons with remarkable clarity, and understands the business of sport as well as he understands people.
Only once did he come close.
Details are scarce and Gary never elaborates. The opportunity appeared suddenly—legitimate, affordable, and within reach. For a brief moment, it seemed possible that Gary the Barkeep might become something else entirely. Then the moment passed. A delay. A choice. Someone else stepped in.
Gary does not express regret. He does not blame anyone. He simply pauses whenever the subject arises, smiles faintly, and changes the topic.
Those who know him well have noticed that, on quiet nights when the bar is nearly empty and Ell is nearby, Gary sometimes stares at the holos of old matches a second longer than necessary.
Whatever the opportunity was, it mattered.
And it is one of the few things in Gary’s long life he still thinks about.