The Stranger

[Aran Finn]

Nal Hutta | The Jar'kaethien'ah Fine Liquor Saloon and Steakhouse​

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@[member="Ignasius Van-Derveld"]​

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The name of this particular cantina was misleading. There was nothing particularly "fine" about the Jar'Kaethien'ah, and the "Steakhouse" hadn't served actual steak since before interstellar flight. However, it was non-descript enough to suit the non-descript bearded man's purposes, and was a lovely bit of rough to boot. A night at the Jar'ka without at least one death was considered a dull affair, and fist fights were more par of the course than not. Just Aran Finn's cup of tea then. Scoundrels loved a good scrap, and Aran considered himself a member of that esteemed group. And then there was the other man, the man that allowed Aran to be, the Dark Jedi Knight with a past he'd rather forget but with too much unfinished business to ignore. He too was naturally driven to seek places like this out. There was a wild side to him that seemed out of his control, and his aggression was insatiable at times. He itched to be in the middle of every brawl, and could never understand why. However, he was here on business. It paid to keep a level head in times like these.

Aran had a contact; a possible ride off-planet with a crew that knew the meaning of discretion. Van-Derveld, or something ... a proper rough-looking bloke who seemed prepared to do a bit of mean. Finn had no means of discerning his intentions or character but at the end of the day, he was confident in his own ability to deal with trouble. Van-Derveld had a fast ship and way off-world, and the bearded man could feel that he had picked up a tail or two in the past couple of days. The Force still flowed through him as strongly as before the cataclysm that had changed his life, and he still trusted his intuition. He needed to leave Nal Hutta, and soon.

The bearded man shouldered his way through the throng of spacers and miners and arrived at the bar, leaning over and grabbing the bartender's shirt sleeve and tugging to get his attention.

"Gimme something lethal!" He roared over the noise of the crowd.

"Literally? I got some Huttese moonshine that'll actually melt a hole in ya!"

"What? No! ... Look, just get me a tall glass of bourbon. No ice." The barman didn't even flinch. He simply turned around, gathered a schooner glass and started pouring. That's why Aran liked places like this. Now to wait.

 

[Ignasius Van-Derveld]

@[member="Aran Finn"]​

Ugh. The Jar'ka? Really? It was rare for Iggy to shy away from a fight, but he rarely went looking for one, nor did he go to places where entrance gave you a higher percentage chance than normal of getting into a fight. He made more money when he was healthy, and he wasn't healthy after a fight...he was damned sore. So the Jar'ka was the last place on Nul Hutta that he wished to be right now. This made him a little more edgy and a tad more irritable, if that could be imagined.

The description of the man he was meeting was rather vague and fit at least half the scum in the room. The thing that helped a little was that he was supposed to be at the bar, that directly eliminated eighty percent of the clientele but still left a few too many people with whom to confuse things with.

"Lookin' for Aran Finn!" He called out, if the guy wanted to get off Nul Hutta he now had more reason to with most of the room knowing his name. Granted only a few of them cared, but it was the thought that made it likely annoying.

The barkeep looked at Ignasius as he lay a tall glass of bourban before an aged man. That was enough for Iggy. With a casual saunter, Ignasius made his way to the bar. "Probably not the smartest place to do business...especially now," he said to the haggard looking man.

 

[Aran Finn]

@[member="Ignasius Van-Derveld"]​

"Especially now? What's the occasion?" Aran raised an eyebrow at the rough spacer. The guy was clearly looking to put him on the defensive, which would in turn help him in increasing on the potential charge for his services. So the older man refused to take the bait. Instead, he tipped back his glass and gave Van-Derveld a wry smile. "Plenty of faces, plenty of noise. It'll do."

Besides, it wasn't like they were up to anything illegal. Not that it mattered on Nal Hutta. If anything, illegal ventures were encouraged here, which made it easier to lie low here. It was a lot more simple to blend in with people who were up to a whole lot of no good, especially if it was a lot worse than what you were up to. And better still if you had secrets ... people didn't do a whole lot of prying on Nal Hutta. There weren't many things to learn about anyone that would brightne your day.

"Tell me about the ship."

 

[Ignasius Van-Derveld]

@[member="Aran Finn"]​

"She's fast enough for you ole man...if that's what your askin'."

Iggy remained standing. He didn't intend to stay long. "Crew is first rate. Three other pasengers...pilot, mechanic...resident Zeltron and myself will make 8 bound for Fariae Junction. Plenty of room on the ole YT-2000...will even throw up an partition for you to have some privacy in your corner of the cargo hold."

Looking the man over, he was not to keen on him either way. Three passengers was enough to make the trip to Junction profitable in its own right, aside from that he had contacts there and a potential job lined up in the Unknowns. "Payment up front...no hagglin' on our aggreed amount."

 

[Aran Finn]

@[member="Ignasius Van-Derveld"]​

"Old man, eh? Heh." Aran smirked. He was thirty-five, though the toll his body had taken over the years of being a conduit for the Dark Side made him look a bit older, he supposed. Van-Derveld didn't exactly look like a spry chicken himself. Sure he was in good shape, but he wasn't exactly young either. The bearded man chuckled dryly at the mention of a "first rate crew". That's what they all said, and not all crews could be first rate. It didn't matter to the closet Dark Jedi, though. As long as they got him to Fariae Junction, he was happy. Van-Derveld seemed like a shifty piece of work but Aran knew he could handle him. He had more to him than the usual space trash that found themselves in this line of work, but he had killed better, stronger and smarter men. And Van-Derveld did not have the mark of the Force to serve him. Aran did, though the other man would not know it.

"Payment up front...no hagglin' on our agreed amount."

"Suits me." Aran drank again before shifting his weight off the bar to draw himself to his full, non-descript five feet and eleven inches. He held out his hand to shake, the usual way of sealing a deal such as this. "Though if you fall through on your end, we'll be having a problem of the 'you owe me' variety."

Aran had seemed to regain most of his youthful vigour almost instantly. He had learned that trick from a man called Talus over a decade ago, an ebony giant who had the ability to shrink about a foot in the mind's eye of others when it suited him. It was a minor little ploy, but it was something that Van-Derveld would notice and thus make him a mite more cautious around him. And less likely to try to stiff him or sell him out. Likely, Van-Derveld would not be too impressed outwardly, for what Aran had done was not something immediately impressive. But the thought would linger. Aran smiled now, though it didn't reach his eyes. It rarely did. For such a proficient liar, the older man found it difficult to smile under false pretenses. Such as the pretense of being happy. He had no more time for that illusion.

"Not saying I don't trust you ... I'm just saying."

 

[Ignasius Van-Derveld]

@[member="Aran Finn"]​

"Don't worry we'll get you where you need to go," said tersely in response.

This one seemed a little more potentially troublesome than the father and son, and woman that he had already booked on the flight to Junction. There was something that changed about him part way through the conversation, as if Finn took himself to a different level. He could change gears at a whim? This unpredictability was something not appreciated to much in the confines of a tin can in space.

"If we trusted people, we would already be dead."

Ignasius flicked a datachit across the meter or so distance between the two. "We leave in an hour. Make sure you have your things stowed before then."

 

[Aran Finn]

@[member="Ignasius Van-Derveld"]​

"See you aboard, then." The older man smiled, caught the data-chit and then flicked a cred-stick across in return. The action didn't go unnoticed. It caught the eye of a few of the hard done-by patrons of the Jar'ka, to whom credits gleamed like arraki crystals. Potentially, things could get real sticky for Van-Derveld if he stuck around, but Aran had faith in his ability to look after himself. So he turned back to the bar and looked to enjoy his drink in peace. He might have a few more drinks before he left ... he'd always had trouble sleeping in hyperspace, it might help to be drunk.