Sands (Geneviève Lasedri)

[Darth Ferus]

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

Tatooine. A wonderful planet, if you don't need water, don't mind the heat, and can survive without food. Despite how awesome that sounds, not many people can actually do it.

Ferus is one of those many. He sat within a bar with a dark hood pulled over his face. He wore basic merc garb, really because he wanted to blend. Get a drink, get away from all the Sith and their Sithyness. It's just how he is. So for now he sipped idly at his drink, unknowing and uncaring of those around him. None of it was interesting. At least, not yet.

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

As much as she absolutely enjoyed the weather here, Geneviève had just about had it and could not wait until the freighter was prepped. She had arranged for a flight to Malastare on a whim following the mass execution of Sand People she and a squad of mercs had just carried out as a favor--the kind of favor that involves getting paid at the end. Of course, she had no need of the money.

Trudging into the best watering hole and source of shade on this dust ball, Geneviève scanned the bar's occupants with her brown and glassy white irises, searching for a place to sit apart from the plebs. A merc uniform quickly caught her eye. Her kind of people. Hugging her rifle under her arm to make sure it was still hers by the time she reached the spot, the former business heiress wove her way up her select spot at the counter and hopped up onto the stool. "What's the most expensive drink you carry?" she asked the barkeep, sort of showing off yet keeping her voice low. She assumed that price equated with quality at a backworld joint like this.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

A soft chuckle would escape the mans form as he glanced over to [member="Geneviève Lasedri"] . Pale blue eyes would scan over her form, studying. So she wanted the most expensive drink eh? He'd keep silent, simply letting the bartender do his thing. Which was to promptly pull out a bottle of rather cheap whisky and set it on the table. More or less a ruse, and only those who knew about drinks would notice how cheap it really was.

"This righ'hea is teh most expensiv' we gots. Yeh sure yeh want it girly?"

 

[Darth Ferus]

(Whoops. Double post)

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

She waved it off and curled her lip with a bit of attitude. Or a lot of attitude. "Whatever. Drinks around the table, on my ass." She popped off the cork of the bottle and tested it. She grimaced at the first touch to her tongue. Awful stuff, but she had no desire to learn how the less expensive stuff tasted after this one.

Laying her blaster on the countertop, she glanced at the mercenary next to her and nodded. "You're welcome."

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus held up his own glass. Clear whisky, straight. Good stuff, for those who liked it at least. "I'd thank you, but I got what I like right here."

The bartender on the other hand would laugh, going around to give the other patrons the rather sub par alcohol she just purchased. This would only earn her some annoyed glances as the other mercs around thought it was a rather terrible attempt at a joke. None would move, but if looks could kill..

"You're pretty quick with earning enemies, huh?" The Zabrak's voice was gruff, seemingly natural in it's raspyness. What ever happened to force his tone like it was clearly wasn't something anyone else would want to experience. His gaze would drift from [member="Geneviève Lasedri"] to the far wall, he idly drinking from his glass.

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Geneviève rolled her eyes and cast a sideways glance at the Zabrak. "Some people need to get a life." When she noticed a few glares directed at her, she returned fire with her own conceited scowl. She brought the bottle back to her lips and withheld a gag as it bit at her tongue. She was just too proud to admit to making mistakes, especially when it came to beverages.

Turning back to stare ahead at the taps, she tried to pick up a conversation with the Zabrak mercenary. "Kill tally?" She sounded like a total punk wannabe.

[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"I stopped counting long ago. They blend in all to well after a point." Ferus was never really the best conversationalist. But he was trying at this point. So much so that he would continue to speak, his pale blue eyes once more turning to [member="Geneviève Lasedri"] .

"What of you?"

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

If the object was to impress this tough cookie, it looked like that was destined to fail. "I know what you mean. Can't even recall how many Tuskens I've dropped just this week." Five was the correct amount.

She took a look around the bar again at the other mercs and convinced herself that she had significantly intimidated them with her frosty white eye. She wondered how badass the Zabrak was thinking she was just now. Yeah, she was real cool.

[member="Darth Ferus"]