Ydrin sighed as he leant back in his seat. His duster coat was thrown across the arms of the chair, his rifle propped up against the arm, while his revolver was being spun lazily in his left hand. In his right he held a glass of old and aged Correlian Wine while a unlit cigarette hung from hip lips negligently. He was currently sat before a holocommunicator station, waiting for the link with his current patrons to be established. Behind him, his personal and modified droid, Y8-S1, wandered around, setting up the communications link, running it through his numerous encryptions.
Eventually, the lights of the station flickered into life and Ydrin pushed himself to his feet, silver necklace bouncing on his chest as he did so. Ignoring the mumbling of Y8, in his normal, monotone, robotic but distinctly male voice.
Placing the revolver to the side, Ydrin stared at the blue and translucent images of his patrons appeared before him. He already knew they were Sith, some of them made no effort to keep there presence within the Galactic Game a secret, and it lit a smug fire within him to offer them no bows nor subjugation of his self. Instead, he slowly raised his glass to his lips while his purple and mismatched eyes, one with a black film over his whites, stared at the figure before him in boredom. Taking a long sip, Ydrin smirked at the men as he lowered his drink.
"Greetings. I believe you wished to hire me?"
[member="Darth Rapax"] | [member="Lord Mythos"] | [member="Lord Ajihad"]