I ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ
Miann was lucky to have acquired those cooling units when she did, as the swamps of Trigalis were quite angry, with the foul waters spilling over the city limits near her place, the Rampaging Rancor. The sweltering heat was driving away most of her usual customers, which made her breathe a sigh of relief at not having to handle a rowdy group of armed criminals.
However, the downside was that her tip jar was completely empty, and the bums sleeping in her booths were unlikely to pay to keep the lights on. You would think they would appreciate having a business in town that wasn't fully corrupt or bowing to the Black Sun, but it didn't seem that way.
As she rinsed out a few cups in the dishwasher, she made sure to start her inventory for the night. According to her list, she was down eight cases of boga noga in just one afternoon, and although it tasted like the exhaust from a freighter, people claimed it could take down a whole squadron of stormtroopers.
So, she kept it stocked in case any of those bucketheads showed up. While it was unlikely, you couldn't fault a girl for being ready. Her fingers gently tapped on the datapad to place her order with the spaceport, which included a 6% service fee to ensure timely delivery, cutting into her profits.
Because of her tight budget, she had invited someone to discuss her intel on a new, untapped cache of Spin-Sealed Tibanna Gas on Bespin. This cache could make someone rich overnight but she wasn't gonna share it without compensation.
"It's about time you showed up. I've been waiting." Her eyes locked on the person at her door, checking to see if they were just a spice addict or a Sith Lord. She didn't want any lightsaber-wielding weirdos scaring off her customers, especially not tonight when business was slowing to a stand still.