Public Hard Times

[Charlotte Savage]

Denon never slept, but tonight it felt like the city was practically laughing at her.

The neon signs of various shops flickered overhead in sickly blues and reds, their glow cutting through the curtain of rain that poured down the alleyway. Charlotte dragged a damp sleeve across her face and gave a bitter little laugh. Of course. Of course this was how the day ended.

First, the bounty slipped through her fingers. He was a mark that should've been easy, only to vanish into the crowd like smoke. Then her last few credits disappeared in the chaos that followed. Gone with the mark, or maybe to the pickpocket who had brushed just a little too close for comfort. She hadn't noticed until she tried to pay for a tram and came up with lint and a spare stick of chewing gum.

She sighed, moved to pop the gum in her mouth, only for the cantina door to bang into her shoulder as a gruff Wookiee stormed out. The stick slipped from her fingers and landed squarely in a muddy puddle.

"Perfect," she muttered, voice flat as the rain.

Groaning, she slouched against a duracrete wall with her bag at her side, rain dripping from her hair and face. Utterly soaked to the bone, mascara streaked down her cheeks like war paint gone wrong. She tilted her head back, eyes half-closed, staring up at the weeping sky.

Her laugh was thin, liltingly soft like summer rain against the roaring downpour. Anyone stumbling through the night could find her there... a bounty hunter without a bounty, broke, drenched, and looking for… well, anything better than this.

 

[Tigris Aphra]

Wrong profile!

 

[Tamar Krev]

She would have thought getting a job on Denon would be easier. Only a few days in, she told herself not be get discouraged. No one knew who she was, had no reputation or references. So, as she often did, Tamar resorted to more nefarious means to survive.

It was easy to hit marks that night. Night was an ally, the glowing neon lights making cozy shadows. The rain was even more a blessing, a constant pelting on a targets body that hid the unseen touch. Not that she needed either of those. Tamar was an excellent pickpocket.

It wasn't her favorite way to survive, but one did what they had to do. She had found someone that was probably not the easiest mark, but certainly the most intriguing. The attractive, tall, pink-streaked platinum blonde moved with a graceful confidence, not the slouch of a slicer or stim-head. With a look that was as electric as the bright colored sings of the bars and diners that lined the street, Tamar couldn't resist.

The hit was simple, a distracting noise, a bump. It wasn't her cleanest, but it worked. In the end, it wasn't a lot of credits. But the curious woman had captured the otherwise bored attention, and Tamar trailed her. She watched the cantina door hit the woman, the stick of gum dropping to the filthy sidewalk. The figure leaned against a wall, dripping wet, looking dejected. Even the unamused laugh of frustration wasn't overlooked.

Tamar felt almost bad for her.

She walked up to the woman, pulling the long jacket's hood back. Tamar had to look up at the woman, who's once stunning makeup now streaked her cheeks.

"You look like you could use a drink...I'll buy?" She offered. Technically, it would be the woman's credits buying the drinks.

 

[Charlotte Savage]

Tamar Krev

Charlotte blinked, thick lashes heavy with rain and clumping mascara, and when she glanced over her bright, icy-blue eyes seemed to light up at the offer. Relief and delight washed across her face like sunrise after the storm. Tamar Krev just seemed to burst onto the scene like a rainbow breaking through storm clouds, lifting their gloomy day for Charlotte. Little did she know, this kind newcomer was the very same pickpocket who had lifted her credits earlier.

“Really? Oh, thank you, thank you!” she gushed, her voice suddenly all warmth and bubbly with cheer. In a blink, the dejection of moments ago melted into chipper energy.

She practically skipped into the cantina at Tamar’s side, shaking the rain from her violet coat before eagerly hanging it on the rack. Her damp hair framed her cheeks in messy strands, golden locks curling in to wavy wet rinlets, but she didn’t care. She ordered something that sounded fancy and decadent; 'a Nebula Petal Elixir with crystallized foam' though in truth it was little more than a sweet, non-alcoholic fruit fizz. Whatever the bartender was doing it seemed to have a ton of ingredients.

Charlotte tugged Tamar toward a cozy little booth tucked in the corner, sliding in with a happy sigh. “Girl, you have NO idea how much I needed this,” she bubbled, propping her chin on her wet palm examining her manicure and the glittering heart paint for a moment under the warm over head light. “Seriously, a kind face on Denon? It’s like finding a diamond in the trash! Today has been just, ugh, don’t even get me started.”

Of course, she did get started. Words poured out in a rapid-fire flood, Charlotte yammering about the bounty that got away, the pickpocket, the gum, the rain, the Wookiee- just every little indignity she suffered! She gestured wildly with her hands, equal parts dramatic reenactment and animated chatter, until she finally laughed and leaned back, practically glowing with gratitude.

“I swear, I thought the whole planet had it out for me. But then you show up, and~” she gave Tamar a big, genuine smile, “it feels like maybe it’s not all bad after all.”

 

[Hubert Starhopper]

As the two met in the corner booth and began exchanging pleasantries to one another, (An ironic twist, given the not-so-pleasant exchange they had beforehand...) on the other side of the cantina, Hubert is standing at the circular bar, his oil-stained fingers pinching and rubbing the slim bridge of his nose.

"Look, youse' ain't gettin' a better deal than that around here, I'm tellin' 'ya..."

Hubert's voice is gruff with irritation. He and some Toydarian have been arguing over the price of fixing the greedy alien's ship for over an hour now. Even the surrounding patrons are growing tired of the conversation, and it's hefty length. Not to mention, the Toydarian's voice is like sandpaper to the eardrums...

"Eeugh... Eh-you told me that you would-eh do it for five-hundred!" The bug yells, slamming his small fist on the counter of the bar, emitting a small rattle amongst the glasses. The speed of which his wings are flapping seems to increase with the level of his blood pressure.

"Listen you aggravatin' slime-ball!-" Hubert begins, slamming his glass onto the countertop, and pushing the Toydarian by the chest. "I told you'se five-thousand! Hear that? THOUSAND!" He roars, his hand instead of pushing, now slamming a finger into the bug's chest with each flair of his words, his temper well-past boiled over...

"And if you, don't wanna' pay what we agreed on the holo, you can find another mechanic that will do half as much, for twice the credits!" Their gazes stay locked onto one another for a moment, Hubert's burning into the Bug's like a fusion cutter.

"Now youse' can take the offer, or PISS OFF! I need to actually make some money, so unless you're gonna' pay me, we're done here."

Hubert's tone calms again, but the Toydarian flutters his wings in a huff, storming out of the cantina leaving himself without a mechanic, and Hubert with yet another false lead. He looks to the bartender, who meets Hubert's gloom with his own. Hubert orders a glass of Novanian Grog, sliding the credits over as the glass comes his way.

"Whatta' cheapskate, eh? Figures. Feels like my luck's been dry since I landed on this damn rock." Hubert flashes a toothy grin, which is met with the bartenders never-changing gloom. "Know what I mean? Yeah? No?-Tch... Buncha' bores..."

He stands straight from his slouched lean, his slender frame matted in a thin film of oil, giving him the appearance as if he's crawled into a chimney. He takes a look around the room, taking note of anyone important-looking (Looks like they might have money, and use of his services) and sipping on his grog. HIs ears opened to the room in attempts to pick up on anything interesting.