Nothing Complicated About A Drink

[Jacen Cavill]

Corellia

"Yes, I'll have just a brandy."

Trying to keep his tone even, and his accent all but absent. The man simply sat at the bar with his elbows resting on the marbled surface. Smoke from the other patron's death-sticks filled his nose, while the terrible band on stage filled his ears with sonic vomit. Emerald eyes searched around the assorted patrons, and a general feeling of disgust began to form. Never in a thousand millennia would he have ever even come within a hundred kilometers of such a place. Yet, here he was. It appears the mighty do fall, and to rise you must lower yourself even further. A sigh escaped his lips as he waited patiently on his drink, after all his mission was complete.

Quite successful Master Tirdarius...

A small chuckle formed in his throat at the thought, just as his drink was brought to him. Giving the bartender a few credit chits, Jacen simply watched him leave him in peace. Disgusting vermin, the thought was one born of his upbringing, and he quickly squashed it. Having been raised his entire life to be a military figure on Serreno, and the heir to his father, had left its mark. Thanks to his father, Count Marcus Cavill, things had changed. You thought you could maroon me on Korriban and leave me to die. You will one day see the error in your ways father, once it is allowed of me to. That burning feeling of rage began to form, and his ears and eyes began to burn with heat. No, not here, I can't have another accident.

Calming himself only slightly, Jacen took another sip of his brandy as he looked about. After all, his rage was where his power came from.

The Sith Apprentice was plainly dressed in a black sweater and some gray slacks. A days worth of stubble upon his cleft chin, and his black hair was slightly askew on his head. To any onlooker, he was simply a normal patron of the bar. When he had really been tasked with putting a tracker on a spy for the Republic, that mission handled. He merely waited for Lord Tirdarius, his Master, to summon him back to Korriban. Yes, without you Master, I would still be that skulking fool resorting to thievery. A shudder ran up his spine as he remembered how he had come to learn of the Sith that day, but much had changed.

His broad shoulders slumped a bit, and he adjusted his powerful arms as he sat there just biding his time....

 

[Davin Jusik]

Monty entered the small cantina with a practiced gaze trained on those within. The young man had more than been around the block in places such as these and rarely felt out of place in these establishments. He wore his black suit with knife on the belt and two silenced slugthrowers, one in a holster on the small of his back and another on his ankle. The gangster who'd begun learning the ways of the Sith was making a pit stop on this world on his way back to Tatooine to close a deal. He hated long hyperspace journeys.

He pulled out a seat and sat at the bar, ordering a local ale and contemplating how coldly he'd murdered his father after meeting him for the first time. He felt no regrets.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

The burn of his beverage sliding down his throat was rather pleasing, it's silky smooth taste left him desiring more. The flavor of the smoked brandy was quite pleasing, and a good departure from the fine wines he had drank in his former life. The mug he held also felt sturdier than the flimsy glasses he had been forced to use his entire life. Jacen wasn't about to say that this new life was better, but he could see the merits of a simpler existence. He wasn't coming around entirely, as the noble in him sneered at everything around him. It was just that his emerald eyes were finally being opened to how life was, and that maybe the path he had walked his first twenty years of life had been the wrong one. I guess being trained by Tirdarius is opening my eyes to what the Empire stands for.

Ah, yes. The Empire that he was growing to love.

In that perilous void where his drive and ambition had lay, the hole was being filled. Where he had once fancied himself a future Count of Serreno, he lusted for the title of Sith Knight. He longed to put his military acumen to use, and along with his training, accomplish wonders for the Empire. This world he was on one day would bear the Imperial flag, and the Sith would rule over it along with the rest of the galaxy. If that was one ideal he still carried, even as he began to understand the other facets of existence, was that control was necessary. All the wretches around him desired to be controlled, longed for it. Freedom of choice was simply that led to more conflict, and the Sith aspired to rid the galaxy of it. His birth world was already under such control, and now Jacen's true calling in this life would be to see the rest of the galaxy under heel as well.

Delusions of grandeur faded though, as he noticed another enter the bar and sit next to him. An air of confidence and darkness about him. Deciding against writing him off, the Sith Apprentice instead put on a façade and spoke.

"What brings you here to Corellia sir. Bartender, his drink is on me."

A confident smile crossed his handsome face as he turned in his stool to face him.

"Where are my manners, I am Jacen Kurt. I'm just a simple trader on a stop before my next shipment heads out." It was all a life of course, with the exception of his first name. That was the beauty of being away from Korriban, he could be his true self while practicing his new skills.

 

[Davin Jusik]

"Thank you Jacen, the name's Monty, pit stop on a long trip back to home." Monty replied, extending his hand.

Something in Jacen's eyes struck Monty as odd. He took a sip of his drink and looked hard at the man. He noted the strength the man appeared to have and that gleam that spoke of fire behind his eyes again.

"And what do you trade in Mr. Kurt?" Monty asked, with the gleam of someone who'd caught on to someone's lie evident in his sly grin and behind his eyes.

 

[Ronan Dyre]

Footsteps carried him into the tavern quietly. Narrowed eyes scanning the surrounding area once in a wide sweeping motion he ensured none of the faces here were familiar to him before proceeding into the tavern. It hadn't been his first thought however after abandoning his method of transportation once it docked he felt parched and decided to make for the closest drinking hole available to him. Walking into the tavern Ronan would have matched eyes with anyone who looked at him if only to make a mental note of their face and a silent count of how long they stared. Cautious about something.

As he reached the bar he would take a chair, pull it out, and then swing around to take a seat before laying his hand down on the surface and leaving a few credits behind ensuring that the bartender would have made his way to him eventually....

"Whiskey."

...was all that he said as he sat there and slumped forward in what some would have considered to be bad posture. Ronan was comfortable though and anyone could tell that but it would take a skilled eye to really notice that he was constantly aware of his surroundings. When a patron lit his death stick Ronan knew and when a waitress moved to deliver a drink he would track her movements until she was out of sight while taking into account the sound of her footsteps. He even paid attention to the two men sitting close by, one of which must have also been a newcomer as his drink hadn't been delivered yet, and the other, broad shouldered and plainly dressed with a sweater and slacks, who had been here a bit longer by the look of things. Nothing escaped his cold blue eyes.

Ronan himself was of average height with two toned hair and a golden hue to his skin, the little of it that could be seen, and while his shoulders were broad they weren't so much that he would be mistake for a massive individual. He dressed with heavy boots and a worn cargo pants as well as a duster that helped to conceal, mingle, the Armor Weave he wore. Underneath the duster he had an assortment of items hidden from view the most notable being a Heavy Blaster Pistol. There was also a Garotte, durasteel fiber wire, concealed in his belt.

Reaching for the whiskey as it arrived Ronan would bring it to his mouth before tipping it back slowly and starting to drain his glass at a steady pace...

"Another."

...was heard as he finished and set it back down on the bar with a satisfied exhale of breath, the alcohol from his drink still clinging to it, but otherwise he was silent. Observing and enjoying himself it seemed.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

I'm a Sith Apprentice to Lord Tirdarius of Korriban, and I was here planting a tracker on a Republic Spy. Those were the words that formed on the tip of his tongue, but they were a lie. Instead, Jacen spoke other words. "I am simply a spice trader, I'm simply stopping before I head to Coruscant. Oh how I love the Republic." The tone of the man sitting next to him let him know the jig was up, and that he could see through his lies. So Jacen's words were heavily laced with sarcasm so he could see they were both in the know. Seems we both are weaving a tale of lies and deceit here Mr. Monty, there has to be more to you as well. It seemed as if everything in his world was becoming both simpler, yet the people in it more complicated. A most interesting dichotomy if one took the time to notice, the Sith didn't.

Instead, dark senses reached out.

What he felt as his focused reached out elicited another chuckle as Monty's drink was placed before him. It seemed the Force had touched them both, and their spirits were indeed kindred. Taking the time to clink his glass off of the man who appeared to be playing a game as well, the former noble took a rather large sip of his drink. He let it's warm liquid sit in his throat for a moment before letting it slowly down his throat. The burn was pleasant, and he was indeed in no hurry now. Another presence was noticed by his emerald eyes as a rather plain looking man in a trench coat sat near them. His order of whiskey was heard, and the Sith nodded his approval towards the man for such a choice. Turning his attentions back to Monty he posed another query.

"So what are you doing really Monty? Wait, hold that thought..."

Turning to the bartender he handed out another stack of credits as he stood to his full height of 6'4, his broad shoulders finally pulled back instead of being hunched over. "I want you to charge me for that man's whiskey, and bring us all another round of the beverage in that empty booth."

Walking towards said booth, he sat and gestured for Monty to sit with him. The Sith quickly waved over the other man as well, in an attempt to bring him over.

"Now, want to lay your cards on the table Monty? Or shall our farce continue?"


@[member="Monty Jusik"] @[member="Ronan Dyre"]

 

[Ronan Dyre]

@[member="Jacen Cavill"], @[member="Monty Jusik"]
Generous Offer. Unless his ears decieved him, and they rarely did, Ronan would hear the broad shouldered man tell the bartender that he wanted to pay for his drink after he'd handed out a stack of credits that might have made a man down on his luck fall to his knees in tears. As it happened this had caused Ronan to look in the direction of the man, Jacen, and see him as he waved Ronan over to the booth that he had apparently rented for what had now become a trio.

Nothing else to do.

Despite remaining at the bar for a short time longer Ronan would have eventually slid out of his chair and stood to his full height. Underneath his trenchcoat he looked quite unassuming though in reality, beneath the clothes, he was athletic and well muscled due to long periods of exertion and exercise that left him toned. Footfalls would take him from where he had been sitting at the bar towards the booth that he had been waved towards where the other men would likewise be gathering unless he'd misunderstood what was happening. As he came closer Ronan would have focused on Jacen, Monty was there but he hadn't paid for his drink which meant he was secondary for the moment, before he came to a halt at the end of the booth and said...

"Suppose I should say thanks."

...his tone was grim though Rona wasn't attempting to be rude this was merely one of his mannerisms due in part to a lack of social skills. He was never a big talker. Nodding his head though Ronan observed the pleasantries, he understood respect, before he took his place in the booth as well and waited for another round of whiskey to appear so that he could feel the heady burn of liquor flowing down his throat again.

Looking between the two men after he'd taken a seat Ronan was quiet, he didn't offer his name because in his line of work names were usually less important than a means of contacting one another, observing both of the men whom he tried to discern something about with a keen gaze. Eyes of blue stared out at the both of them and he wondered if this was a social call or if the man who had invited him to the table had a business proposition in mind.

Three guys walk into a bar.

...the thought went through his mind and he couldn't help but crack an unhinging smile because that seemed almost cliche but wasn't it how so many great things had always begun? Yes, it was.

 

[Lina Djo]

Cold fury rolled from Mia as she marched into the bar pausing in the entrance as her eyes looked for her prey. She had been made a fool of. Out of the game for too long her contact seemed to believe she could be made a fool of. She had made a risky and highly illegal drop of weapons expecting to gain credit. Instead she had a welcoming committee of mercenaries. Their orders? Collect the goods, dispose of the pilot.

Four mercenaries. For her. It was an insult. She had to remind someone of what happened when you messed with a mandalorian, even more so what happened when you screwed with her. Passing the three men at the bar, her eyes set on her target she paid them no mind as her boots clicked across the floor she moved into the booth next to @[member="Jacen Cavill"] , @[member="Ronan Dyre"] and @[member="Monty Jusik"].

Its occupant's cigar fell from his mouth as he tired to scramble back, though he had nowhere to go. "Credits?" she said holding out her hand "Four thousand, you owe me. Now."

"M-Mia! Good to see you...alive. Let me get you-"

Mia's hand reached forward grabbing the man's head and slamming it forcefully into the table with a sickening crunch that told her she had broken his nose. Releasing him she tried again "Credits, four thousand you owe me. Now." Trying to stem the flow of blood from hi nose with one hand he dig a shaky hand into his pockets with the other shoving the credit chip in her waiting hand. Pulling a datapad from her pocket Mia slipped the chip in, checking its contents before tucking the two items safely away.

She wasn't done yet and her contact knew it, his squeal of fright making that perfectly clear when her blaster appeared in her hand to stop two inches from his face and he began to weep. "Don't kill me! I'm sorry! It wasn't my choice! I'm just the contact!"

"Shut up and listen carefully," she snapped at him, her face showing no sympathy. "You're going to get up in a minute and you're going to leave. You're going to go straight to your boss and you're going to tell him this: You don't feth with me. You don't double cross me and if you want to kill me your most certainly don't hire back of the alley mercs to do the job. I have my credits, your mercs are dead and your shipment...well I'm not sure I can recall where I left it, though I'm pretty sure there's a beacon on it that's signalling to the people I just stole it from not to mention the details of who hired me to do it contained inside. You see where this is going?"

The man before her was still weeping but he managed to nod. "Good." holstering her blaster she made her way to the bar shaking her head as she went. behind her the man scrambled from the booth and fled the bar. Likely to end up dead at the hands of his boss, but since when was that Mia's problem. Leaning on the bar she sighed heavily. "Whiskey please."

The drink appeared a moment later in front of her and Mia offered the bartender a smile of thanks as he slipped him the credits. Taking the drink in her hand she turned to face the rest of the club, leaning on the bar as she did wishing for the first time, that she was back in her hut away from people, on Mandalore.

 

[Davin Jusik]

Monty chuckled gleefully as the woman slammed the patrons head into the table as he took a seat at the booth.

"My kind of woman." He said loudly as he pulled out a deck of Pazaak cards and began to shuffle them.

"My cards? Right here." Monty continued with a laugh.

"In all seriousness I'm just a businessman and an opportunist. What about you "trader", and yourself Mr. Strong Silent type?" Monty asked playfully. He was in the mood for humor. He was almost sure the man across from him was a fellow Sith and the other, he couldn't really tell. Might make a good asset one day judging by the gear he had "hidden" on him.

@[member="Mia Monroe"]
@[member="Jacen Cavill"]
@[member="Ronan Dyre"]

 

[Jak Sandrow]

Jak walked into the bar. He had heard from someone that this was a good place to get a drink, and it looked it. Usually the cleaner the place was, the better the drinks were. He saw someone dealing some cards and called over, "Hey! Deal me in, too, okay?" Walking over to the bar, he ordered a Corellian ale, then took the tankard over to the table. He suddenly realized that he was at a table of Sith and Mandos. He said nervously, "Hey, nobody pull a lightsaber on the scoundrel. I want my ale."

@[member="Mia Monroe"]
@[member="Jacen Cavill"]
@[member="Ronan Dyre"]
@[member="Monty Jusik"]

 

[Jacen Cavill]

"Yes, please Monty deal me in would you?"

The Sith watched lazily as his fellow darksider worked his magic with the cards, it was a game he had only been briefly exposed to on Serreno. Truth be told, it was by his servant, but it still was a fun game. Much simpler in it's concept than most advanced games the nobles played, yet the strategy behind it was sound. It wasn't a game for cut throats, but for thinkers, and it had oddly earned his respect. It seemed that in most facets of life Jacen preferred a simple and direct path, it was why he didn't greave for his old life. Years of being repressed and conformed to fit what society had wanted of him had left their mark, and now that he had been set upon this new path. He felt truly free in the most liberating of ways, yes he was still destroying his old habits, but he was making progress.

Emerald eyes watched the trench coat wearing rogue take a seat across from him.

"No worries stranger. Name's Jacen Cavill, I operate for a powerful government. We could use some men of your sort, if I had to guess you are hiding quite a few toys under that coat. I did serve in the military under my father's orders on my homeworld, I know a soldier for hire when I see one."

Turning to Monty as the man dealt him in, a small grin appeared on his face as he addressed the dealer.

"I would have to say that I'm not a simple trader, I believe you and I actually work for the same team if you catch my meaning."

The implied meaning was clear, they were both Sith. This rogue with them could be a useful ally if dealt with accordingly, and as his Master had told him. Build contacts, the Empire can't flourish by the might of one man. So he was doing his duty, while releasing the shackles of his old life. Instead of conflicting politics, there was simply the Empire and the Sith. If the Apprentice did his job properly, and worked hard, he could help. That was his purpose, and he was more than ready to do his part to help. Yes, I can see this simple conversation leading to much more in the future. A ruckus involving a rather attractive female, beating a man over money occupied his thoughts as another man walked up and quite loudly called them all out. Instead of letting his ruse drop, he flashed his most friendly smile and let his emerald eyes flash at the man trying to sit next to him.

"We are just simple traders and merchants, I don't even have a lightsaber good man." That was the only true part of his statement, he did have a concealed blaster and years of melee weapon and hand to hand combat training to go along with his impressive build and size. "How about you take my seat and I'll go get that rather attractive female over there to come join us. Be on your best behavior boys, I'll be right back."

With an air of humble confidence, Jacen rose to his full height and calmly walked over after he finished his drink. He idly scratched his stubbly face as he walked over and simply leaned against the bar a friendly distance away from the hostile woman. Hearing her order, he then turned to look at her while laying some more credits down. "Make it two whiskeys, and they are on me." Looking at her, he could appreciate her skill, she was definitely talented. He extended a hand, and let a small grin creep up on his features. "Names Jacen, and you are...?"

 

[Jak Sandrow]

(OOC: I didn't "call anyone out". I sat down, then noticed the effects of the dark side on you guys, and made an assumption.)

Jak sat down gratefully, glad that the man had no Sith weapons on him. He waited for the deal to finish, then picked up his cards and studied them.

@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Mia Monroe
@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Jacen Cavill
@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Ronan Dyre
@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Monty Jusik

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia closed her eyes for a moment a soft sigh escaping her lips as the man approached standing close enough to her to make it clear he had come to see her, but not so close that Mia felt the need to hurt him. Opening her eyes she gave him the once over, scooping her credits back off the bar top. If he was going to buy her a drink she wasn't going to argue with him, alcohol was good, free alcohol was even better.

She looked down at his extended hand then back at him, one eyebrow raised in response to his grin. "Me?" She turned to face him fully, still not taking his hand "Not interested in you." she said a cold smile appearing on her lips as she raised the whiskey to him "I'll thank you for the drink though."

 

[Ronan Dyre]

@[member="Jacen Cavill"], @[member="Mia Monroe"], @[member="Monty Jusik"], @[member="Jak Sandrow"]

Looking as the Pazaak cards were produced Ronan said nothing though he watched as the man, Monty according to the fellow with broad shoulders, began to shuffle the cards with a bit of interest. Never much of a card player Ronan had no qualms about trying his luck at the game as long as the bets were kept manageable . When he heard Jacen, Jacen Cavill as he now knew him introduce himself his attention would shift and he looked at the man while taking his glass of whiskey and swishing it in a small circle...

"Ronan Dyre."

...he introduced himself before raising the whiskey to his mouth and taking a slow drink as compared to his first which had drained the last glass in a single hard pull...

"I'm just a simple man in the business of asset consolidation and protection."

...which was Ronans way of telling both Jacen and Monty that he was the Soldier for Hire that they took him for, his main talents lying the fields of infiltration, wetwork and similar operations that often dealt with the elimination of potential targets. Lifting his glass to his mouth Ronan took another drink of his whiskey before his hands went to the Pazaak cards being dealt by Monty. He looked at his hand so that he could arrange it quietly. Eyes would then shift towards the woman alongside Jacen and Monty when both men looked.

At a distance it was easy to see that she, Mia, was attractive however Ronan was most impressed by how she handled the man whom he heard scream after she had put his face into the table. Nodding, approvingly, as he watched her from his place in the booth Ronan would have let his attention shift again when he saw the new man, Jak Sandrow, approach the booth before Jacen invited him to sit after introducing them all as Traders and Merchants after the newcomer had mentioned lightsabers.

"What kind of business are you in, Monty?"

...Ronan had asked after Jak, visibly nervous, had sat down and Jacen excused himself so that he could make the acquaintance of the woman and invite her back to our booth where we'd all mingle and share a hand of Pazaak no doubt. After listening to the conversations between just the three of them Ronan had gleaned enough information to assume that Jacen was actually associated with a Government however he wasn't so sure about Monty which made the man interesting. Always good advice to know about the men you're sitting down with after all.

Glancing back towards the bar Ronan would have watched Jacen approach the woman who hadn't accepted his hand reasoning she was the type that was rough around the edges, an experienced veteran, he knew a fighter when he saw one. Interesting , she might have even had as many surprises on her as Ronan himself did.

 

[Davin Jusik]

@[member="Ronan Dyre"] @[member="Jak Sandrow"]

"Acquisition of materials and import and export, of almost anything imaginable. What about you o' nervous one?" Monty asked with a grin at Jak. Once he discovered the man's profession he may have use for him. That's how he sized up about everyone, do you have a purpose, and if so how can I bend that purpose to my will?

As a Hutt had once asked him so many years ago.

"What can I use ya fur?"

 

[Matreya]

@[member="Ronan Dyre"] @[member="Monty Jusik"] @[member="Jacen Cavill"] @[member="Jak Sandrow"]

The air in the room seemed to darken as Zaiden stepped into the bar. Heading straight for the bar, Zaiden sat at the end and looked to the bartender, "Bourbon. Dark and dry." The man nodded and went about grabbing the glass, and drink.

Zaiden cast his eyes around the room, some were playing cards and others were talking. Hearing the soft clink as his glass was set down, he walked to the card game with his drink floating next to his left elbow only slightly ahead. Zaiden had literally turned the force into a cup holder.

Remaining ghostly silent, he watched the game proceed trying to figure the rules..

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel was playing Sabaac in the corner of the bar, keeping his eye on the force user that had just walked in. Sith or Jedi, he didn't care, they all seemed to be on some sort of higher plane than him. The galaxy didn't seem to care who ran the show for their planets either, as long as they still had a nice house, job, and the holonews to watch when they got home, life went on, and so did this Sabaac game for all he cared.

 

[Jak Sandrow]

"I'm into a little smuggling here and there," he replied. "I also do some courier runs, if the pay is good." He had no idea that anyone would even try to control him.

@[member="Monty Jusik"] @[member="Ronan Dyre"] @[member="Jacen Cavill"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

The door to the bar swung open and a nexus of dark side energy gushed in, permeating the room. Any with skill in the Force could immediately sense the presence, or rather presences that now stood in the doorway. For though the figure was but a solitary man, it seemed as if he had two auras, only starkly visible to those who had great skill in the Force, apprentices and untrained would feel only a massive and oppressive presence emanating from the man. One was like that of a packless wolf: hard hearted, full of past anguish and misdirected rage, but with a dangerous predatory mercurialness born from the absence of any ties of loyalty. A certain mischievous madness played about the edges of the aura. The other was wholly different. Ancient beyond reckoning with whispers of insanity. It was like a seductive siren, a whirlpool of darkness, playing in the ears of listeners as it sought to drag them into an ocean of the dark side. It was an old evil. Fashioned by cruel hands for a singular purpose: to plunge light into darkness. To close around the wick of hope and righteousness like a fist of iron and squash it out. A glass cup, to be placed over a candle flame. Watch it flicker and die.

The man himself was a striking figure. Piercing eyes of pale blue stared from beneath a shaggy crop of raven hair and menacingly arching eyebrows. His face was all sharp angles and lines. Beneath a straight nose he had an upward curving mouth, made for sinister smirks and roguish grins. A black leather jacket, grey shirt and pants covered a lean, pale ectomorphic body, full of whipcord muscles. On his belt, visible as the jacket moved, was a cylinder of black, with a bronze dragon curling across its length. The dragon's jaws jutted upward at one end. Did its eyes seem to glint, or was that just a trick of the light?

As usual, Mikhail Shorn found himself at a bar. He also found several other Sith. Odd, so far out from Empire territory. Their auras were powerful, but had the untempered feel of the untrained. Apprentices? Or just very bad Knights. Interesting. Another aura emanated nearby. Strong. But not so strong that it could not be dealt with. And dark, yes, quite dark. Mikhail seemed to be among compatriots of the dark side. Not that that meant they were allies. He snorted to himself. His pale gaze moved from the suspect apprentices to the other beings in the bar. He sensed a subtle tension there, buried beneath general drunkness. Not a few of the beings gathered here were dangerous. However, they were all like small flames quenched in the thick, rolling fog of Mikhail's presence. He was, by far, the most deadly being in the room at the moment. As far as he could tell. That suited him fine.

Shorn had arrived just in time to witness the snuffing of an attempted introduction by a suspect apprentice to a woman at the bar. Reeeejected. Mikhail smirked in amusement before he himself walked up to the bar. The bartender was getting busy. Mikhail waited with a bored expression until the man finished the last of his orders. He rolled his eyes.

"Finally. I'll have a Corellian Whisky."

He needed a drink after what he'd just been through. Damn the Sith. Corellia and their freedom fighters too. Stubborn bastards. Offing Southern System Syndicate spies is always so.... messy. Imperial business. None of your concern.

The bartender handed him his desidered drink and Mikhail exchanged it for his credits. The bartender took them unceremoniously with a greedy little gleam in his eyes and grubbish fingers. Mikhail looked the man up and down. The bartender's apron was stained with grease. The man reeked as if unwashed. Mikhail's lip curled in disgust and he turned away. He leaned idly against the bar, drinking his whisky. He waited for something to happen, because in bars you didn't have to wait long.

 

[Matreya]

Zaiden sencedthe dark energies, well before they arrived. Walking from his current spot, he sat down at the bar. Just after, the door burst open and the energy could be felt more wholly by the weaker minded.

"Shorn. Havent seen you since Voracitus' party." He muttered, after Mikhail leaned not far from himself. Sipping his bourbon, he found surprise that it was a good year. Most hogwash bars on the outskirts couldn't afford the good brands. Odd.
@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]