Private Payment Must be Made

[Tsiflam]

SETTING: Asylum : Criminal Shadowport
TAGS: Braze

"A neat summary of events," the Devaronian acknowledged, adopting a calmer tone than the venomous one he had used previously. The danger of violence had subsided, and a transaction, albeit indirect, was now being fulfilled, making the Rodian no longer a matter of concern at this point.

He could simply exit the cantina without divulging the information, but the prospect of a rumor circulating about his dishonesty would not be favorable for his employer or the Bounty Hunter's Guild.

He reached inside his tunic, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid any misinterpretation. His fingers closed around a small data chip then placed it on the table, the dull grey slab a stark contrast to the rich Aurodium that had started this.

He kept his finger pressed on it, not as a threat, but to emphasize the value of what he was relinquishing.

"The Pykes run their operations with a certain… bureaucratic efficiency," Tsiflam elaborated, making a subtle shift of his body, acknowledging that they were a strong syndicate, despite the Black Sun being the most dominant in terms of actual territory. To oppose them was to invite a death sentence, even for someone as lowly as he was, sitting at the bottom of the totem pole.

However, credits had the power to buy anything, including a chance to regain their favor should this be traced back to him.

"This is a shipping ledger for a low-level distributor named Vex. He operates from a refueling depo on Petabys Station. The ledger has frequencies and a recognition phrase for the traffic controller. Use 'the Kessel run is clear for approach.' It will get you past the initial scan. Vex is graded for volume, not discretion. He will be your man."

 

[Braze]

Tags: Tsiflam ​

Braze sat up straighter in his seat at the booth, the amused look fading from his visage slowly as a dead serious expression took its place. His eyes sharpened with an odd sort of intensity even in the dim lighting of the cantina. His gaze shifted to the data chip pinned beneath the Devaronian's finger, then traced the line of his arm upward, briefly sweeping over the droid before settling firmly on the man's eyes.

He listened in silence, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together so he could rest his chin on the back of his knuckles. Every word, every scrap of information, he absorbed like a sponge and tucked away for later. This had gone rather well despite the sizable cost, but the information was worth every bit of Aurodium with the plans he was presently making.

He reached out slowly, never breaking eye contact. Those pale fingers tipped in blackened claws brushed against the Devaronian's hand as he wrapped his own around the data chip, sliding it free.

"You got a name?" Braze asked at last, tone steady and almost offhand. "Seems rude to settle a debt and take a lead without knowing who I'm talking to. And I'm not fond of calling you 'big guy' forever."

His expression softened into something sly, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly.

"If I ever need to find you again," Braze murmured, "I'd hate to be forced to ask around for 'the big red guy with the droid glued to his spine'."

 

[Tsiflam]

SETTING: Asylum : Criminal Shadowport
TAGS: Braze

The Devaronian's eyes narrowed when Braze asked about a name, and a hard, irritated click of his teeth replaced any spoken answer. He slowly retracted his hand from the table, flexing his fingers slightly. He let the boy's remark about a 'red guy with a droid' hang, a statement too trivial for a response.

Persistence, Tsiflam thought. That's all they ever know. Braze, with his endless inquiries about the Spice Operation and now, a demand for a name, was the perfect example of the type that ground his nerves raw.

Tsiflam's demeanor alone advertised that he had warrants on multiple worlds; he wouldn't risk selling his identity to someone who could use it to fetch the local authorities. It was simpler to keep traveling the space lanes without corvettes hounding him.

"I'm not fond of your irritating voice either," Tsiflam finally said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. The sound grated on him like a Hutt's laugh echoing in a crowded cantina. He twirled his blaster pistol once within its holster before letting it come to rest. "But here we are."

He gave a slight, mocking bow. "Don't worry about finding me or my partner. We'll track you down eventually." Everyone had debts, even rich kids like this, and when his name came up for collection, the boy would learn very quickly that Tsiflam could and would show up anywhere.

Without another word the man and his companion would make for the exit.