Public The Merc with the Quetarra

[Hans Vitel]

Jakku. What was there to say of this place? Just another quiet remote part of the galaxy where all types could be found. Located in no border and on it's own. It may consist of barren deserts and the scavenged husks of ships but for many it was home, or another rest stop. That's why outposts and small settlements could be found dotting the planet. There was almost a beauty to it, as humble and desolate life here was. When you looked around though you were reminded that all of this came about purely by the will of individuals, no forceful hand meddling with things. Just people that one day decided that they wanted to make the best out of the planet and their share of life. They do that day after day not having to be trifled by the influence of war, worrying about who's regime they must satisfiy as politicians and leaders look upon them not as people but things that can serve a selfish purpose. A perfect little spot for Hans to stop and maybe find some work.

The merc finding himself in one of the cantina's in Niima Outpost. It was starting to approach sunset, long rays of light being met with long rays of shadows. Bright light shining through the windows of the humble hut of the cantina, illuminating the specks of dust and fur that hang in the air. A small crowd of regulars and new faces finding themselves sitting around the bar and tables spread throughout the relatively cramped space. Small conversations dotting about from tales of exciting times to idle chat.

At one of the tables by a wall though sat one man. His head drooped down towards the instrument resting on his lap. His flight helmet taking up space on the table next to a glass of spiced Corellian whiskey that burned his mouth just the way he liked it. Though his full attention was set on the song Hans was having his quetarra sing. When playing he found that the world would briefly disappear from his perception. No worries of where he would get his next paycheck, no memories of the past to occupy him, it was just him, his instrument and the music. Few sat by actively listening to his playing and others merely used it as background noise but it didn't matter to him either way, just the act of playing was enough to satisfy him.

At the table he sat there was a modest collection of credits from some people that decided to tip the man. A nice little consolation for Hans, though he didn't actively beg, he held no sign nor even a can for people to tip into, he just figured that if people felt inclined to tip they would, if they didn't well that was their decision he had no right to impede on them. He continued to play, and when the song would eventually draw to it's conclusion he would either play another song or perhaps find something else calling to him.

ooc: Just a relaxed social to break in a new character and get used to writing with others on the site. Feel free to interact or create other stories in this thread

 

[Ben Craig]

Jakku, the place where the secret Directorate Headquarters was located. “Understood sir, I’m heading to him now.” The transmission ended. Ben walked out of the control room the Vernichten, his elite group of directorate troops similar to the fierce death troopers of the galactic empire. Ben walked to his personal shuttle and zoomed across the Jakku dessert. In a few minutes, he exited the shuttle and headed to the cantina. He took out a datapad and pulled up the image of the man pulled from security footage within the cantina.

The door hissed as it opened. Ben walked in, his Vern standing guard outside. A quick scan around the cantina and he spotted the man sitting alone at a table. Ben approaches him, “Hello sir, my name is Ben Craig a representative from an organization called the Directorate. I hear your a mercenary and looking for a job. If you’re willing to join us we can provide you with shelter, unlimited food and a steady payment of credits.

Hans Vaiden

 

[Salba Eldar]

This was a long way from home. Perhaps too far if she was being honest. Wrapped up in a suit of Beskar, she watched from her little corner of the cantina for something to cling to. The world before her was played out in several colors and shades, as the force painted the scene out before her. Things had always been this way for her, and they always would be, but one thing Salba had learned from her new eyesight, was that she could see the ripples of fate wrapped around a person, and the most rippled one here was the man sitting off by his lonesome. Curious.

She was about to make her move, perhaps try and gleam what made this one so special, when a fancy looking man entered and began to spiel about joining the military for a job. Rather dull move on his part, for there was potential for this one to be so much more. Perhaps intervention would be required. She got up, making her way towards the table, as the sight had to be slightly intimidating as she moved towards the pair; an armored Mandalorian was hardly a good sight to see bearing down upon you. "If your going to try and convince the man to side with your work, at least buy him a drink." She spoke, staring the officer down, before looking to the merc in question. Her sight wasn't wrong, there was something to this one, and the officer as well. "I'm Salba Eldar, hope you don't mind if I join you gentlemen?" She asked, before pulling up a seat and joining the pair. She flagged down the waitress, putting in for a order of Sptchka for the whole table. "I have a keen ear for business propositions, so I just couldn't help myself to sitting this out." It was a partial truth, in reality she was just grasping at anything that might hold some merit to it.

Hans Vitel Ben Craig

 

[Hans Vitel]

His song had drawn to an end. As the last note rang through the building the merc saw a flash of light in his peripheral as the door hissed open and ushered the uniformed man in. A faint thing ticked in hans' mind as the officer's uniform was reminiscent of imperial uniforms even reminding him of his time in the Sith Empire.

As he walked towards Hans a silence began to fall over the Cantina, a few people even deciding that now was the right time to leave making their way to the door. When they tried to leave they would freeze upon seeing the guard and they would head back trying to find the most inconspicuous place to sit. Hans meanwhile had calmly put his instrumental down as it lay against the wall and reached for his drink observing the man with a skeptic's eye. Taking a long sip and putting it down again.

Upon hearing the man's offer, he mulled it over though things like Directorate, unlimited food, shelter stuck in his mind but not for the right reasons. It was the classic spiel of any tired old recruitment drive. Sure they were appealing but that when combined with the whole lack of info on the job and barely any knowledge of this 'directorate' well, it didn't sit well with him. The words that he wanted to say to the man was go to hell but being he knew he didn't have the luxury to just turn down every offer without at least entertaining it first.

"Is this really a job or a conscription?" He had to ask if he had a choice of backing out because to him this felt one ending was him walking out a blind fool and the other him being dragged kicking and screaming. Though before the officer had time to answer a Mandalorian decided to butt in. A small smile at her response and in response he downed the rest of his drink and deposited a empty glass on the table. His spirits being slightly raised now as well as a soft warm feeling in his gut.

He was glad she had taken intitative and took a seat. It strengthened his position now that she could also be another interested hire, meant more to bargain and more pressure he could put on good. Plus a not having to deal with a pissed off Mandalorian is always a good incentive to not use force on him.

"Always appreciate the company especially when it comes to these things." He said, his hand outstretched to the chair in a motion to sit down for the officer though whether or not he took it didn't matter to Hans. He would wait for whatever Craig had to say before interjecting.

"I need you to understand Craig: I don't do recruitments. I'm freelance and I work on a per-op basis. So if you think you can tie me down with anyone and pledge my allegiance you're solely mistaken. Now if you got a particular job or mission in mind maybe I'd be more receptive to what you have to say, but if this is just a recruiting scheme you best look elsewhere."

Harsh perhaps but he wasn't in the mood to freely give his soul to anyone who asked. He didn't mind a mission but he was his own man when he did it. That was something he didn't want to give up.

Ben Craig Salba Eldar

 

[Ben Craig]

Ben noticed the cantina became quiet, natural when an authority in power suddenly appeared. Before Ben could answer, someone decided to intrude on their private conversation. Ben looked momentarily at the new Comer and noticed it was a mandalorian. Ben smiled and replied, “It is really just a job. The task force is not like the regular army infantry. You can freely choose what missions you would like to partake in. It’s up to you if you would like a contract or sign up for full membership. We currently have three members with different sets of skills. You can leave anytime, no commitment. We provide any resources you need to fulfill the mission.”

Ben listened to Hans,”Like I said before, you don’t have to be tied down unless you want to. If you want we can create a system where you work for us when we need you. Most of our operations will enable you to work alone or in a small group. We’re not talking about full scale invasion, mostly behind the scenes stuff.” Ben looked back at the Mando, “same goes for you if you’re interested.”

Salba Eldar Hans Vitel

 

[Salba Eldar]

Well wasn't this nice. Ben was pressing his luck with his sales pitch, and the stranger she had thrown her lot in with was pushing on back. This could prove to be fun, though she felt that the man was lying; this was one of those 'too good to be true' deals. The drinks arrived not long after the order was put in, so Salba went to drinking; or rather, she used her helmet straw to drink. She'd much prefer to take the helmet off and drink, but she didn't trust these two well enough to do such a thing, so it was helmet straw for her. "I'm going to say this as nicely as possible Ben, but I feel like you're trying to pull one over on us. No one just gives away all these resources, tries to tie in a schedule for their workers, and offer them the option to walk away whenever they want. If they do, they are either incompetent and poorly managed which means they won't be around for long, or you're lying. And you might 'think' you are telling the truth, reading off the brochure they told you to memorize, so I won't hold that against you."

She straightened her posture, looking to the stranger for his thoughts on the matter, before going back at it. "You see, I've already bought into this sort of thing several times when I was younger, so forgive me if I sound rather harsh, but I'd rather be spaced in my birthday suit than sign on with the group you are describing to me here. Now this gentleman here, I don't know what he's into, but I can tell you it's a solid 'no' from me partner." Behind the scenes stuff typically meant suicidal low chance of survival type stuff, and as fun a that sounded, Salba knew better than to agree; the Mandalorians hadn't worked out for her after all, chances were this wouldn't either.

Hans Vitel Ben Craig

 

[Hans Vitel]

Well wasn't he being offered something so heartwarmingly vague. He didn't like it, especially just the way Ben tried to sell it to him. Because that's what it felt like, he was being panhandled by a salesman. He would take a sip of the spotchka and listen in to Ben's little spiel and the Mandalorian's commentary. Well it seemed like she was taking the words right out of his mouth too as he found himself in agreement with her sentiment. Hell he still didn't even know what the feth this directorate even did, though the fact he never heard of it combined with the statement "Behind the scenes" suggested sketchy. This wasn't the type of sketchy he could work with. Seeing the Mando look towards him he realized it was his cue to speak.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. I don't like the sound of this. Especially when you're light on details."

He let the Mando speak again and during so he thought about something that stuck out to him the fact this guy walked in and just sought him out immediately which actually was really off putting to him. It started to roll around his mind as he listened to Salba mention that she too had bought into crap like this before which peaked his interest. Sounded like there was a story or two attached to that statement.

"Look, if you practically tracked me down and asked for me specifically then you ought to know I turned in my wings with the Sith Empire for a reason. I don't want to go back or involve myself with anything resembling that and right now it's looking like that. Especially when I have never heard of your organization, and don't know why you don't have an incentive to sell me out when it's most convenient, especially if one of these "behind the scenes" ops goes badly. Now I'm going to second this lady's no and I'd suggest you respect our decisions and try not to force our hands.

A part of him hated admitting that he was a flyboy for the Empire, but he felt like he needed a point. Especially when talking to someone who had both the look and talk similar to that. Hopefully the Mando won't take this opportunity to try and exact revenge or anything, especially when she had a pretty voice.

Ben Craig Salba Eldar

 

[Tyria Koth]

Everything in the cantina began to rattle, followed the light inside the already dimly lit space growing dark as a starship passed low overhead, before returning to normal. Outside, the sound of engines spinning down could be heard, as a cloud of dust settled around the Atrax, its yellow and black paint job glimmering in the afternoon sun. Out of the underside of the starship, a ramp descended with a faint whine as plumes of steam and decontamination vapor filled the space underneath the vessel with white clouds.

Out of the steadily disappating fog stepped the white and black, armour glad form of Tyria Koth who stopped at the base of the ramp and silently regarded the cantina, with its collection of hovels, buildings and people clustered around it. After a moment she stepped onto the dusty surface of Jakku and proceeded into the bar. She had made it all of three steps before the bartender grunted at her, "remove your helmet."

"I...don't think so," she said, waving her hand subtly at the large individual. He shook his head as if suddenly dazed but blinked away the confusion after a couple of seconds. "Mind tricks or not lady, you're not gonna have much luck having a drink with that helmet on." She smiled, not that he could see it, he had made a good point and she nodded to herself for a moment. The HUD inside the helmet helpfully informed her that aside from the soldier standing awkwardly outside the entrance, no one else inside was...currently...a threat.

With a tense of a specific muscle group, the helmet automatically retracted around her head and slotted into the rest of her armour. Tyria's short, blonde hair fell about her face. Pushing it behind her ear she approached the bar and ordered a Carbon Freeze with a shot of Naboo Gin in it, before placing a credit on the bar, walking over to an empty booth and sitting down.

 

[B1-176]

B1 was happy with his new gig. He had free shelter (An old supply closet), cheap charging, and some income. Bee was very fortunate, and the fact that he was forced to work 14 hours a day, usually without a break didn't bother him, it kept him busy and out of the sand. He really couldn't remember how he'd gotten to Jakku and if his memory served him right, it had something to do with the strange backpack that he was trying to fix up. But, the sizable dent to his facial plating had wiped just about everything before that from his memory banks.

Bee sat in the back, wiping clean the dirtied glasses of the bar patrons, and stacking them to dry on a shelf. His job was simple, the waitresses brought him dirty dishes, he made them clean. Do that and he'd get a few credits and hour. His only chance at a break was if he finished all the dishes, and by the looks of it, he just might get one today.

A filthy alien came in and tossed down a handful of glasses before mumbling something in a foreign language and storming out. Bee shook his head, "Damned organics." He just picked up the dishes and wiped them off, and before long he was finished. As he finished up, he approached the swinging door that lead from the kitchen to the bar itself and casually pushed through. He made a sharp turn and walked behind the bar, calling out to the bartender with his high mechanical voice, "I'm done with the work sir, do you mind if you go on break?"

The bartender looked at him and hesitantly shrugged. Bee took that as his out and walked out from the bar and began his way towards the door when all-of-a-sudden the glimpse of a man in a bright uniform caught his eye. This man looked different then the others in the bar with their dark and earthy tones, and that made him intrigued, he was possibly an off-worlder. Having basically no social cues, B1 simply approached that man and interrupted the conversation.

"Hello there sir, I am B1-176. The bright white of your uniform stands out among the hideous colors and dull backdrops of this bar and it's inhabitants. Are you from off world?" Bee turned his faceplate towards the man, glaring at him as though he had done nothing wrong, and to the innocently stupid droid, he didn't think he had.

Tyria Koth Hans Vitel Salba Eldar Ben Craig

 

[Sam Sheridan]

It was safe to say that Sam had no karking clue what she was doing on Jakku. The last she remembered she was on Nal Hutta getting drunk as a skunk from her new paycheque, then the next thing she knew she was waking up with a hell of a hangover missing what little clothing she had...and her droid was powered down next to her.

After quite a fiery argument and almost blowing its dome off, Beebee assured her that she was actually a responsible adult for once in her life and took a cold shower to soothe her poisoned body.

So with nothing better to do, she decided on exploring the little town her ship stood in. She freshened up, got dressed, holstered her pistols, then walked down the ramp after ordering Beebee to stay put and lock the ship. The first place she headed towards was the nearby cantina in search of some edible food. When she entered she gave the place a quick look before wandering over to the bar. As she walked she passed a guy who was wearing a uniform that was just asking to get dirty. She slowed down a little to listen in on the conversation. What she heard made her grin rather widely. "Hey, buddy! Don't you know you're not supposed to wear white after labour day?!" she taunted him with an obnoxious laugh. One look at his blaster gave her more ideas. "And get a blaster that fits you. That thing is making you look even smaller." she quipped before reaching the bar.

She ordered a shot of whiskey and turned to face the dude in the uniform. Usually suits like that made for great target practice. But she refrained from that. Even on backwaters like this, just shooting for no reason didn't always work out well. She downed the shot and ordered another as she watched the crowd with a smirk.

A droid emerged and approached the suit, asking him about his silly uniform. A chuckle escaped her as she popped a cigarette into her mouth. She sat down on a stool and ordered a meal from the bartender, then turned around to keep an eye on the crowd.

Tyria Koth Hans Vitel Salba Eldar Ben Craig B1-176

 

[Salba Eldar]

This bar was getting crowded, maybe a little too crowded, and she didn't see a job in it at this moment. Seeing that the white suit man was being dressed down by the droid, she thought it only proper that she work out a deal with the flying man and cut the rest of the rabble out of it. The poor guy looking to hire them was catching flak, all from a woman who had the flow of a killer. Yea, this place was getting crowded, which meant something was about to go horribly wrong. Blocking the white suit out, Salba looked to Hans, and though he couldn't tell, she wore a small smile behind that helmet. "You still use those wings big man? Wondering if you can fly me outta of this sandpit, I got the credits if you got the ship." She didn't really have a destination, or a place in mind, but she hated staying in one place for too long.

"We can run circles around the outer rim, see what the galaxy throws at us." It was probably a terrible plan, mostly because it was less of a plan and more of an idea; a terrible one at that. Looking around the bar once again, it probably wouldn't hurt to meet and great with some other people, but she felt rather good about the man she was talking with now.

Hans Vitel Sam Sheridan

 

[Hans Vitel]

It seemed that whatever happened the Man in white grew quiet now, and in doing so a small little upbringing of events began to broke out, as other happenings started to form and liven up the mood in the bar. While others may have flinched at the starship's entrance for Hans feeling the vibrations and rumble followed by the sounds of a starship's engines rumbling down for a landing was a sound that brought the closest thing he could have for a home. And soon walked in another mysterious figure in white though this was less salesman and more 'feth with me and I'll paint my armor in your blood'. Something he could work with much more then this officer.

Then there was a karking battledroid trying to have a talk about the finer details of off world fashion and now another hooligan was throwing the poor guy shade. Hans just had a stupid grin, now these were some of the wacky scoundrels he was used to working with. A part of him could appreciate the bit of chaos that a bunch of radically different people all stuck in one confined space could create, even if admittedly it often ended in a shoot out.

Then the purple Mandalorian started to proposition him for work. He quickly did a side glance both ways as he quickly took a snapshot of the rest of the bar. Normally he would have said yes on the spot though there was a problem with that. He flew fighters and most fighters including his current one were single seat. though it give him an idea perhaps the stars could align for him and maybe some other enterprising individuals.

Hans would take his helmet and cradle it under his shoulder. He took a sip of spotchka and looked at Salba, leaning a little bit closer mainly to get some extra privacy. "They still strong if that's what you mean. I could never leave the sky for too long. Though sadly I can't quite take you up right now. My current ride's a single seater. While we can try to cram the both of us in I don't recommend it. Trust me you want to be strapped with the kinda's g she could pull." All of those was true Toscan probably only thought of military contracts when they made the 8-R. Though there was always another option.

"Though with that said my craft is getting up there in years and I could use a replacement. I did get a tip that there was a pretty sweet looking Hurricane around here. If I could get my hands on one, I'd have a space for you and even a plus one if you wanted. I'm a little light in the pocket so if I could get one at a discount well I'd probably wave them credits you trying to deprive yourself of."

He was pretty sure this Mandalorian could pick up what he was throwing down even what he meant by discount. Truth be told while he did know how to shoot straight he wasn't much of a blaster catcher, and well leaving Jakku with a nice mostly intact piece of fine fighter technology could entail some exciting and stupidly risky fun.

Salba Eldar Sam Sheridan Tyria Koth B1-176

 

[Tyria Koth]

Tyria was seated in a booth by herself, listening to the several conversations taking place around her...especially the one involving several interesting looking folk discussing how to get a ship for a series of potential missions, when an uninvited guest slid into the seat next to her. The smell of alcohol and sweat followed moments later.

She couldn't immediately identify his species, but the lack of neck, squat form and three fingers per hand were enough to tell her he wasn't human...and the force moved about him in a way that suggested malicious intent. She glared at him for a moment before picking up her drink and taking a sip. "Can I help you?"

The individual laughed, a sound that was somewhere between a blaster cooling off and a Jawa being strangled. "What depends lady, whats someone like you doing in a place like this? Could be dangerous on your own." He leaned further over and picked up the cup Tyria had placed on the table, emptying its contents into his mouth in one motion, before slamming it down on the table.

"That depends," She said cooly, looking into the oaf's watery eyes. "What makes you think I'm alone?" She said, suddenly grabbing the beings oversized hand and squeezing it around the glass, which shattered into his enclosed hand, he let out a yelp of pain which silenced the music and conversations around the cantina. "Or in any danger?"

With a roar he whipped back his hand, attempting to pin Tyria between his sizable forearm and the seat. Tyria, anticipating this, spun out of the way, sliding under the table and using one of its metal legs welded to the floor to pivot around and bring the heel of her boot across his chin. The sound of her heel impacting the mans face causing several nearby onlookers to wince.

Before he could react further, she had her blaster aimed directly at his temple. "Now be a good boy, and buy this lady another drink." The alien man climbed to his feed unsteadily and rushed past the bar, dropping several credits on it before running out the door. She flipped the bartender an extra credit for the mess, before sitting back down. Moments later, the music resumed along with various conversations.

Pulling out a small terminal from a compartment on her armour, she activated it and connected to the cantina's holo-displays. They charged a relatively small fee for advertising...whether it was bounties, work contracts, personal services, they didn't discriminate...so long as you had the credits. She paid the fee and moments later the half a dozen holo displays across the cantina displayed an advertisement for her ship, the Atrax. Stating its crew capacity (up to six individuals), its armaments and some of its (less sensitive) features...and that it was available for hire along with her services as a pilot.

Maybe there was some money to be made here after all.

 

[Ben Craig]

Ben sighed. He looked up as more people and a droid entered the cantina. These people were straight up fools for not seeing the golden opportunity he had presented to them. "You're quite mistaken. You may think i'm some low level pen pusher trying to work my way up the political hierarchy, but i'm already there. I'm not reading off some brochure...i'm the one that created it. This task force i'm mentioned was founded by me. And obviously you're not the type for my group. If i were you i'd say when do i start." Ben paused to look at the man, "If you want details...i've got em'. If you're still not willing to take the leap of faith, that's not on me. So nice knowing both of you, and good luck on your future endeavors.

Ben was going to get up to leave when the droid approached them. "How amusing." Ben looked closely at the droid, it was an old B-1 Battle droid from the CIS. As to how it was still operating was a mystery to Ben. He nodded, "I am not from here, but i do frequent Jakku, and thank you. I do like the color white...it seems to denote a symbol of prestige and wealth.

Ben knew there were many who disliked those in an authoritative position. Then there were more who hated authority in general. The woman that clumsily barged in and verbally harassed Ben gave off the bad vibes. Ben merely looked up to the woman, barely acknowledging her. He opened his mouth to leave a nasty remark...probably her mother and a hurt, but he caught himself. Better to ignore these third class citizens then get himself potentially killed. The two at his current booth began to converse. It was time to go. He made one last ditch attempt to recruit someone, “Hey say droid, would you mind joining a fighting mercenary group I’m putting together? I could really use a droid like you.” Ben whispered.

Hans Vitel
@salbas
Tyria Koth
S Sam sheiridan
@b1

 

[Sam Sheridan]

A scuffle from a booth caught Sam's attention. Still waiting for her meal, she sat back with a smirk as she smoked her cigarette. She watched the woman in white...and cussed her to hell and back for the armour. She was dying to know why everyone was wearing white all of a sudden. At least the Mando and the pilot seemed to have the right mindset.

The woman in white then accessed the screens and broadcasted a job opportunity. Sam read over the details and contemplated the options. She made up her mind just as her meal arrived. She took the plate, her drink, and walked towards the woman's booth. "Leave him be, droid, you can do a lot better than him." she spoke as she walked past the suit and the battle droid towards the woman.

By her table, Sam placed her stuff down across from her and slid into the booth. She killed her cigarette in the ashtray and took a few bites first before speaking up. "Alright blondie, you tickled my pickle. What's the job? Just looking for a crew or somethin' bigger?" she asked flatly then continued with her meal. She brushed some of the cracked glass off the table and brushed off her hand. "By the way, not a bad move. You could have just shot him, though. Doubt anyone would miss him." she commented, looking her over.

Tyria Koth Ben Craig Hans Vitel Salba Eldar B1-176

 

[Tyria Koth]

Tyria watched the man in white out of the corner of her eye as he abandoned his attempts to recruit some individuals for a job and left their table. She smirked to herself before realising that she'd just spent several credits on advertising her ship for potential work...She frowned to herself realising the wasted money and took a long sip of her drink.

As she placed her drink back down on the table, another individual slid into her booth. Instinctively she tensed a small muscle group in her thigh and the compartment containing her blaster automatically retracted revealing the weapon. It was however, safely concealed under the surface of the table.

"Alright blondie, you tickled my pickle. What's the job? Just looking for a crew or somethin' bigger? By the way, not a bad move. You could have just shot him, though. Doubt anyone would miss him."

Tyria cocked an eyebrow at the individual infront of her. While not outright threatening, she did sense that this person could cause enough trouble for her if she didn't manage how the conversation progressed. Before she started the conversation however she plucked a cigarette off the serving plate of a passing service droid and lit it with the tip of her finger, the suit of armour providing a miniscule jet of fire. She exhaled the smoke and looked through the cloud at the person, sizing them up. "You may have misunderstood my intent, mercenary. I offer my services as a pilot, and the capabilities of my ship for those who are willing to pay for the privilege."

She took another drag of the cigarette before placing it, still lit, in the ash tray...perfectly balanced on the rim so it would not fall into the pile of snuffed out butts, or onto the table. She exhaled through her nostrils, and leaned in. "And I prefer to not attract too much attention indiscriminantly blasting the locals of any backwater shit-hole I happen to fly into on a given day."

She took another ship of her drink. "But now that you're here, there is something I could potentially use some assistance with. I originally came here for a job, but abandoned it when I realised my mark was far more heavily guarded than I originally realised, hence" she spread her arms and gestured at the cantina, "why I'm here. Drinking." She picked up her cigarette and had another drag. "The pay is decent...not worth the risk for one person...but two...might be able to pull it off. Infiltrate their base, take out the guards, kill the mark." She breathed out another cloud of grey-blue smoke. "You in?"

Sam Sheridan