L O S T

"It's ooonlyyy foreeever.... noooot looong at aaaaalll...."
The cantina band were playing an old Starman's classics off to the right of the bar; sadly, they were murdering each song they played. A pair of besalisk tended to the patrons, whipping together drinks like nobody's business, while people from all across the Galaxy pottered about. Nar Shaddaa saw beings common and rare pass through its spaceports, few remained longer than a day or so before moving on to greater places. While the Romping Rugger was not commonly known by the more affluent individuals, it was definitely a favourite amongst lesser beings; the rough-houses, the smugglers and spice-addicts.
So it was no coincidence that Adiara was sat within the dimly lit establishment. In one corner a red light blinkered over a door, from which muffled noises could be heard if you were unfortunate enough to have a seat nearby. Everywhere else ultra-violet dimmers had been set into the ceiling casting an ethereal glow around the room. The wide eyes of so many of the patrons suggested that glitterstim was already being passed around.
"Disgusting habit" Adiara muttered, as he inhaled gabaki from a cigarette and sipped on stim-caff from a smouldering styrofoam cup. Rising from his seat in the far corner, the Smuggler stepped over to one of the jukebox and ramped up the music to drown out the live-band. He didn't care if they found it offensive, because they were offending his and everyone else's earbuds by murdering ole Ziggy's tunes.
Then the plainly dressed man - who bore a loose fitting white shirt and grey trousers - sauntered back over to his seat and shooed the woman he had been talking to away. "Enough questions, Sweetheart, go find someone else to talk to, eh? Nobody likes a leach." He even lazily lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Leaning back, he took another puff and closed his eyes. Much better. Distractions could be so tiresome...