The Crew

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond was doing what Des did best, and that was drinking his problems away till he had nary a care in the world. The bar he found himself in was a dive with a capital D. The front was plastered in scorch marks from blasters while the top was adorned with a half lit neon sign advertising a Hutt slug slithering into what appeared to be a bottle. The name was indiscernible as the sign's lit portion went as far as the slug and bottle, while the name sparked dangerously in the night..

Desmond lie half slumped over the bar on a wooden stool with pleather seats. He held a beer bottle in hand, but with his head swimming the way it was he wasn't sure he'd be able to finish it. He and Lulu had just made a killing doing a job, and now he was hell bent on spending all his money getting kharked up.

Desmond decided it was time to apply a little something to even out his drunk. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a small pack of deathsticks. Fumbling open the small container he withdrew the stick of spice and shoved it in his mouth wrong side forward.

"You can't smoke that in here," Came the call from the old one eyed bartender

"Hmpf," Desmond responded with a crap eating grin on his face.

He lit the drug regardless and choked as he took a mouthful of straight filter in. Quickly putting the deathstick out Desmond checked his pockets for his cash and too put the deathsticks away. He still had plenty of both, which he found odd, but also extremely pleasing. He turned to the bar and surveyed the room.

It was dimly lit, with wooden tables and stools. An odd chandelier with fake candles sat center piece while booths marked the edges. Bright florescents lit the inside of the booths, blinding anyone nosy enough to look in. The crowd was comprised of a group of thugs in a corner table playing pazaak, a Mandalorian eyeing the thugs rather suspiciously, a group of spice fiends eyeing Desmond rather suspiciously, and a hardened group of factory nine to fivers. All in all it was exactly the kind of hardened drinkers you'd expect to find in a bar like this.

The Chiss grabed half empty beer and walked to the center of the bar. His bantha hide boots squelching across the sticky floor as he did so.

"Next rounds on me!" He slurred in his drunken stupor and the bar erupted in cheers

 

[Arryn Vahn]

Arryn had taken similar jobs as this, yet this one had turned into one of the most difficult, in a sense. He would have to battle with his main enemy, Patience. The Mandalorian had positioned himself towards the back of the location, a medium sized bar that had a wide scope of patrons, waiting to be entertained by the show girls or alcohol.The strong stench of cigarettes and a sharp hint of an alcoholic beverage. Wide ranges of languages being spoken at the same time, the most common being basic galactic. Laughter and the occasional cheers were heard although out the bar. And his target lied right in the center of it all. Arryn was in full beskar’gam, not really concealable yet would protect him from anything that came his way. He and a couple of his goons we're engaged in conversation with each other over a game of pazaak, a game that Arryn didn't know of until know. He just didn't pay attention. He looked towards his left and right and sat there, waiting, for the perfect distraction to move in for the bounty, yet nothing was happening. In a bar full of patrons, one would suspect that something exciting would've happened. Right as this thought crossed his head, a shout from the left side of the bar, a yell.

"Next rounds on me!" He heard from the distance. The net moment, a flurry of cheers went up as people went to the bar to now claim the new rounds. This was the moment to swoop. He had a tight grip on his beskar. He walked forward to the group slowly, pushing people aside. He got closer and closer to the table.

The time to strike was now.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Sanguine]

Jev entered the all too familiar bar. He had never been to this bar in particular, but every outer rim underworld dive was the same. The places were a bit rough and tumble but the familiarity was good for business, which is good because Jev's once sizable stash of credits had been greatly depleted. Jev looked around for anyone who may be in need of his services. A pack of Mandalorians that sat off to the side. "That's a no go" Jev thought to himself. Vicious tough lot the Mandalorians are, and the Nautolan had never been much good in a fight.

To his disappointment, the rest of the patrons appeared to be broke and of no use. "I really need the work." Jev sighed trying to work up the courage to talk to the Mandalorians. Maybe these were the nice cuddly kind of galactic bounty hunters and killers. Just as he began walking over he saw a Chiss man at the bar stand up and declare free drinks for everyone. Jev quickly changed directions and made haste in a different direction. "Oh thank god." But rather than approaching the bar, he made his way to the Chiss man. "If he's got that kind of money, he's gotta have a ship, hopefully one in need of service.

As he walked towards the figure, Jev began to call out to him, waving his arms to try and get his attention. "Scuse me sir! A moment of your time? I have a proposition for you."

[member="Desmond C'artyom"]
[member="Arryn Vahn"]

 

[Chase & Nim Leliu]

In his stupor, no cantina, bar, nor saloon was hidden from his vision. Having already finished the meager job Nim had wrangled for him, Chase was fixing to celebrate. A whole three hundred credits, just for sitting on his ass all day, wearing a little corporate badge, and resting his hand on his gun. Sure was hell though, trying to sneak puffs of his deathstick whenever the bank stiffs weren't looking, but Chase could manage. Now he had a full pocket to go spend on whatever he liked, if Nim didn't get in the way.

Chase ambled in, slow from the spice high, but ever vigilant when he heard the words, "Next round's on me." Coming from across the way, prompting Chase to dart to the bar at his fastest speed, forcing Nim to walk slightly faster than normal, to keep up with him. Chase was on his third glass of force-knows-from-where spirits not two and a half minutes after sitting down, grinning from ear to ear.

Four damned hours and he couldn't go without stinking up the place with spice smoke. All he had to do was sit there, look tough, and allow the gentlemen to make their damned deal, but no, he had to doing something to ensure he wasn't sober. At least he had refrained from the flask, but still, she half-expected him to take out a spice repurposed stim pack and slap one on his thigh just so he could boost the damn high. Hope the Cambrilian Bluff had been worth it, because those trimmed assholes had cut sixty credits off of their payment over that little discretion. Still, it was enough to get a crappy ticket for both of them off this feth hole of a planet and go somewhere not as grimey, but still in need of old men who still kinda knew how to use a gun.

Of course she knew she still had to pay for Chase's daily alcohol binge, or at least figure out how to avoid the tab. Nim wasn't drinking tonight unless she wanted to go through the pain of organizing another job for old pisspot to kark up. Then the unfamiliar, "Next round's on me!" Rung out through the ratty place. "Aw hell." she muttered, her father already taking off towards the bar. Might as well finish the concoction started by the buzz she had from Chase's second hand spice smoke.

She ordered a glass of the highest alcohol percentage drink the place had, quality or not, and sat in a stool next to the mysteriously generous Chiss, and eavesdropped on the Nautolon's proposition.

[member="Jev’Ar Riish"]
[member="Arryn Vahn"]
[member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Lulu]

T H E C R E W

God, another night with that drunk; oddly placed flirtatious gestures and remarks, and having to inhale his deathstick residue?

How appealing. She pondered as she exited the bar a few minutes before Desmond made his charitable gesture, hearing the loud jeers of intoxicated patrons even a few meters away from the bar. Her life had really devolved into swaying the streets of scummy cities. Well, she was going to make the most of it at least. Despite the rather working class nature of the habitants; that being mostly men who wanted to drink the sorrows away of a dead bedroom, to the quiet but lonely girls offering their... 'services' to lonely customers wanting to reignite a flame.

Her stomach rumbled; and rather than waste away her cut of the credits in a bar where the booze was almost certainly watered down to a ludicrous extent, she wanted something a bit more satiating. One of the few market stalls still open was hosted by a species she had never seen before. A strange conglomeration of tentacles and a few eyes; not that she was trying to catalogue it as a biologist. It spoke a broken, fragmented form of basic, and it took the better part of 5 minutes to order one of the delicacies that ended up costing her 10 credits. Foreboding in appearance, it seemed as though it was a plastic bowl of bread and some sort of broth, but the bread seemed to hydrate the longer it was in the liquid for.

Another lone wanderer came up behind her, prompting her to swiftly move on and take a bite of the bread. It was stale.

As the 'food' went down her throat, a screeching metallic noise played in her head, the bowl was dropped and the bread was sent rolling back to the stall. Her eyes glossed over as she clutched her head, some sort of precognition though all she could discern was 'danger' from a flash of visions that played in her head. This had happened before, so there was no spontaneity in relation to a vague force vision, but there was a rush of adrenaline as she gathered herself, ignoring the concerned looks from the customer at the stall and sprinted back to the trashy bar where Desmond was.

She wouldn't be there to be his hero this time. At least for now.

~ [member="Chase & Nim Leliu"] I [member="Jev’Ar Riish"] I [member="Arryn Vahn"] I [member="Desmond C'artyom"] ~

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond basked in the cheers of the other patrons. He watched as the thugs huddled around him for a moment as they approached the bar to acquire new drinks, patting him on the back as they passed. Desmond sensed trouble on the wind however. He watched as the Mandalorian did not cheer, but instead opted to prepare a pounce on the unsuspecting gangsters.

Desmond shifted awkwardly in his drunken stupor allowing for the Mandalorian to shove his way past the Chiss and strike his target. Desmond was a wanted man after all and wanted no attention from a bounty hunter, even if said hunter was about to blast his new friends...

He shifted slightly as another patron approached. A Nautolan. Desmond's eyebrow cocked curiously as he heard the aliens offer.

"Look pal, whatever your selling i'm not buying..." Desmond said before shrugging away the Nautolan.

His eyes scanned the surroundings as more people entered the bar just in time to catch the free round. Among them he spotted an elderly man who looked like he came from the farthest flung backwater planet you could think of, but with him, came a female. Desmond licked thumb and index finger then smoothed out his eyebrows. She looked just his type. Fast and easy with no where to go.

He walked towards the duo and boots squelched as he made his way across the floor, a slight bob in his step.

"S'cuse me miss..."

 

[Chase & Nim Leliu]

Nim Leliu was caught off guard by the Chiss' advances, not that she was foreign to men's advances, having grown up in the saloons and gutter inns of the outer worlds, she was very familiar with the tango. Especially with her role model father to learn from, she could handle herself, even with her limited vocabulary.

Of course, as Nim was approached, Chase made one of his buzzed comments, "Kark off, sodder. My daughter ain't territory for you red eyes. So why don't-" Nim elbowed him in the gut, making him spit up his drink a little.

Nim held out her hand and grinned, "Nim. You?" She didn't play around, she liked to get to business.

 

[Talon Aegis]

Talon would be there just having be having a drink at the bar. “Next round’s on me!” He would then he stand up and star walking around his hand under his coat, he would be killing tonight. Who he didn’t know. He watched Desmond wall towards the couple and he found his targets. He sat down at a table joining in the card game they were in, he would place a bag of coins down. His hand would remain under his coat. He was like a snake, ready to strike at any moment. He would keep little attention on the game, he won a hand. Even then he was still more invested in the couple with Desmond walking towards them. He heard them talking about a job, so he got up and removed his hand then sat at the bar in hearing distance of them.

 

[Talon Aegis]

OOC it copied it for some reason so my bad.

 

[Rundo]

OOC: Sorry guys. I am opting out.