Sal Katarn
(Because ferrets stink.)
At the moment, Talyr Ivaakren was doing her best NOT to fart.
Her tail twitching against the back of one thigh, the lithe, demure Selonian was squeezed uncomfortably beneath the underside of a shadow-laden bench, for the better part of three hours, when a potential target had settled down in this wretched cantina, appropriately named the
Star's End, a dirty and dank hellhole where one poor Wookiee had been forced out back and apparently flayed by a horde of Ganks, if the rambling Geonosian was indeed telling the truth... Personally, Talyr doubted it - the molting insect had shown some telltale signs of lying. However, it probably wouldn't hurt to venture into the back alleyways when it was safe in order to survey the scene for any valuables, if there was indeed any truth to the rumor... For now, though, the shy Selonian decided to keep all her concentration on two things: not passing the scent of that Dianoga Slice Wrap into the air, as well as the satchel that was dangling before her, still held in its owner's hand.
Above the raucous din, laughter and chatter of dozens of alien languages, as well as the occasional crash of cutlery, glass and, at one point, the distinct
THUD! of an unknown larger body (Talyr couldn't see very well from her current position to ascertain what had happened), the distinct voice of a slow-speaking, monotone Gran seated on "her" bench echoed above, occasionally interlaced with the shrill vocalizations of a service droid replying in his language... Patiently, the Selonian's clawed hands shifted just below the edge of the bench, in the shadows, her prize dangling before her... Left, right, left again...
After what seemed like an eternity, the worn, scarred leather travel tote settled onto the floor, the clasp falling between the wall and the Gran's fat-laced leg. After a moment or two, the whirring of the service droid' wheel faded into the cantina's loud, violent din, and the Talyr exhaled slowly, her tail shifting down to the grimy, dirty floor at her side, even as her hand extended from the shadows, tilting the tote to it's side from it's current uneven angle and casually slipping her dexterous fingers into the bag, slowly easing her hand into the partially open zipper, allowing her fingers to swiftly work over an assortment of items: a few stray sheets of flimsi, an ancient paperback book, several primitive writing utensils, until she felt the distinct square shape of a credit stick... Clasping her flesh hand over the metallic prize and slipping two fingers over the pamphlet, as information could always serve to be valuable, the Selonian's hand was deft, practiced and didn't touch the edges of the zipper she had worried open as her hand swiftly retracted. A deft slight of hand slipped the credit stick into her sleeve, and the book she kept clasped into her hands even as the glorified weasel began to slip out of the shadows behind the bench, the malfunctioning, legless "dying" power droid that had been behind the table weakly "gonked" as its photoreceptors were treated to the charming sight of a shifting, athletic, toned anthro-ferret butt that was in the process of shimmying its way from beneath the Gran's bench.
Wasting no time and not even casting a glance at the thuggish Gran in question (she could briefly see that he was a fat one, with rare purple skin), the Selonian slipped the small book into a coat pocket even as she walked past as casually and swiftly as she could, not even bothering to look at the title, as there would be time for reading the item and ascertaining the use of its information later. Grumbling peevishly as the single-wheeled service droid cussed at her in Huttese as she made her way past the Selonian, Talyr was forced to take a step back to avoid the droid, her bare foot making contact with the boot of some other species. Whoever they were (Talyr thought it was one of the Ganks), they violently shoved her away, sending the boyish Selonian stumbling forward, violently bumping forehead-to-forehead into a disheveled-looking human male.
With pain in her head, a twitching ear, disheveled brown hair, crooked glasses, irritable red eyes and one bleeding nostril now, the lithe tomboy rocked unsteadily on her bare feet, her rumpled, disheveled leather jacket and loose, ill-fitting camouflage pants rustling as she did her best to regain her balance, the thin Selonian spoke more harshly then she should have, the lisp in her voice evident as she snapped at the man, "Stupid droid!" She snapped, spraying saliva in the air before her, "Why didn't you do anything to stop it?!" She pointed accusingly at the disheveled human, her furred tail twitching in irritation...
