Trouble? No Trouble Here.

[Alistair Fenn]

Xyla Shadowport - Outer Rim
[member="Lyla Quinn"]

Alistair had never particularly liked Shadowports. Usually they were a mess of activity that he liked to avoid.

That wasn't because of any moral implication of course, he was perfectly fine with all sorts of crime. Thievery, larceny, hell even murder was alright in his book as long as it was for the right reason. He wanted to avoid Shadowports precisely because of that fact. These sorts of places were usually targeted by...well the exact kind of people that visited them. Pirates, Crime Lords, and anything else that could take advantage did take advantage.

It was a massive pain in the ass and generally one that Alistair never wanted to deal with.

Still, every now and again places like these were sort of necessary for people like him, especially when you were carrying something illegal.

The weapons that he'd been transporting as of late hadn't exactly been legal, and although he would have loved to stop somewhere like Alderaan, that hadn't really been a choice. So he'd come here to Xyla to unload his cargo. Thankfully he knew the dockmaster here and he'd been able to sell the weapons relatively quickly, a crew of workers unloading them as fast as actually possible.

Now he was just waiting for his ship to fuel up.

It was somewhat nerve wracking given that he was walking around with a pocket full of credits in a place known for pickpockets but...he trusted his blaster to keep him safe. Leaning back in the small booth that he had picked out for himself within The Painted Nexu, Alistair sipped on his drink and watched everyone and everything like a hawk.

Perhaps he was acting a bit paranoid, but no one could blame him for that.

Not here.

 

[Lyla Quinn]

Lyla Quinn hadn't even swallowed swig number two of her shallow glass of Quanya before the first contestant made his approach.

She mentally steeled herself.

The Twi'lek gave him a swift, practiced once-over out of the corner of her eye. Human. Medium build. Green hair. Smells like piss and chemicals. Blood Synthe tattoo on his neck. Clean leather coat (stolen), hung heavily on his frame. Twitching hands and eyes. Ten credits he was here to sell something.

"You look like the kind of woman who knows how the galaxy works."

Yep. Definitely selling.

He pressed between the bar stools and leaned into her personal space, one arm on the counter, one hand placed low on her back. The dealer flashed her a confident, cracked grin, his breath horrid enough to melt steel.

"You're right, I do know how it works." Quinn set her glass down and gave him a pretty, docile smile.

He looked excited. They always did. "I bet you could use som—"

"It's pretty simple, actually. There are consequences for our actions."

The dealer paused, faltering a little at the unexpected interruption. The hand on her lower back stiffened just a tad. "Uh..consequences?"

"Yeah." Quinn cocked her head a little, as if she didn't understand why he didn't seem to understand. "Y'know. Cause and effect. Choices have impacts we sometimes don't foresee. Consequences! …Y'know? That's how the galaxy works, we make choices and crap happens and we have to deal with the outcome, good or bad."

To his disgusting credit, he recovered quickly. "One of those thinky philosophical types, then, are ye?" He leered, digging in his pocket as he pressed his fingers into her spine, back on his verbal hamster wheel. "Got somethin' you're gonna love, honey. Opens those neural pathways extra wide, lets you see into those out-of-reach corners of the—"

A chill passed over her coy little smile. Quinn shifted in her chair. "Okay, look, I appreciate the offer? But I'm really just here for the drink and then it's back to work, so that's a no thank you and good luck with your next venture, buddy."

The dealer didn't miss a beat. He pulled his sweaty, twitching facial features into a knowing sneer. "Hey now, you pass up this opportunity to expand your mind, you'll regret it! Remember, your actions have consequences, doll."

With a twist of her arm, Quinn grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the bar counter. There was a wet crunch. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"So do yours."
She cleared her throat in the following few seconds of silence, returning the other patron's stares with sweet apologetic expressions. "Wouldn't take no for an answer," the smuggler explained. Some nodded in understanding. Some looked bored. A few loosened the clips on their weapons holsters but went back to their drinks. Quinn rearranged her lekku over her shoulders, wondering where her contact was and what was taking them so long. Lingering in shadowports like this was dangerous enough for the average spacer, but it was ten times worse for someone with an entire pirate empire out for your blood. Add the estranged royal family wanting you back and under their control so they could rule their planet through you and the situation only got worse.

One more drink and then she was gone.
…Okay, maybe three. And some snacks, too, she was starved.

Suddenly, her glass was full again. "On the house," the bartender said with a nod and a good natured wink.

She gave him an appreciative smile. "Anything you'd recommend off the menu?"

He shrugged. "Fries are good."

"Fries it is," Quinn confirmed, tossing him the credits.



The waitress wiped her hands on her grey apron, setting her tray on the counter and wishing for the umpteenth time today that she was somewhere else. But the comely gal plastered on her cheerful smile and hit the floors again, making the rounds. There were a few tips waiting for her, not enough to get out of this pit but it would buy her a decent meal tonight. Making it to the booth section, she beamed. "Anything else I can get for you, sir?" she chirped, wiping at his ([member="Alistair Fenn"]) table with her rag. Her eyes lingered on his features, the curve of his lips, the sharp intelligence of his gaze. Idly, she wondered how many hearts he'd broken just today. " 'nother drink? Maybe a meal? The fries are great here…"

 

[Alistair Fenn]

[member="Lyla Quinn"]

The loud slam of someone's head hitting the top of a wooden bar was enough to grab Alistair's attention even from across the room.

Noise like that wasn't exactly uncommon in a place like this, people got into brawls all the time, but he was somewhat surprised when he actually saw the source of the commotion. An eyebrow perked as he spotted the lithe Twi'lek, his lips twitching into a slight smile as she saw the man that she had just assaulted. He assumed that he had done something that offended her, mostly because no one else around either of them had even really raised their head.

Plus she wasn't in the process of getting thrown out of the cantina.

Alistair was not unused to strong women. Tatooine was a place where everyone had to be strong otherwise they ended up dead. Men, women, even children spent most of their day just trying to survive. The desert world was a harsh one, and the people who lived there often did their best to exploit one another. That wasn't to say that some didn't show kindness, but such notions were few and far in between the cruelty of most. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

For a moment the smuggler lingered, then his head snapped up as the Waitress spoke to him.

He listened for a few moments, then pursed his lips. "A drink."

Alistair told her with a smile, though food would be good, he still had to be rather careful with how he spent his money. The debt he currently carried over his head was more than a little threatening, and he'd rather have fuel in his ship than in his belly. The waitress nodded, scirbbling something down on her notepad and turning to go. Before she managed a few steps he gently touched her arm. His fingers barely grazed her skin, Alistair not wanting to offend her.

"That woman." He pointed to the Twi'lek. "Regular?"

Some people visited shadowports more than others.

 

[Lyla Quinn]

Something in her face lit up. Maybe it was the momentary attention, maybe it was the chance at a small tip for some information, or the opportunity to interact with someone who still had all his teeth and didn't smell like gutter. Maybe Mimi just liked to gossip. Joints like this ran on casual information trade and grapevine methods. Whatever the reason, the waitress welcomed the break from the 'Hi, Can I Take Your Order' humdrum.
She turned a little, briefly eying the Twi'lek in question. "Mm, only seen her in here once before. Came in by herself, said she was meeting someone? Had a drink or two, stayed for almost an hour, spent a lot of time looking over her shoulder, but she left alone. No one ever showed," Mimi dished quietly. "She bought a round for the whole house, though, before she left. Nice of her."

His glass was nearly empty. Mimi smiled. "I'll get you that refill." The waitress hustled away, checking quickly on other tables as she fetched him another. "Y'know, there was someone in here earlier asking for a Twi'lek with her coloring," she added, placing a full glass in front of him and plucking the empty from the table. "Wouldn’t say what for, but he looked nervous. Left without even ordering. But that's all I've got, sadly. Don't know her name or nothin'."
There was a sharp ding from the tiny, greasy kitchen in the back. With an apologetic frown, Mimi shrugged. "That's my cue! Back to work. You holler if you need anything, honey." And she hurried back behind the bar.




The scent rising from the stack of freshly fried potato curls in front of her was, without a doubt, the best smelling thing in The Painted Nexu. Coarse salt glistened like gems sprinkled atop the hot, golden layers, the bright orange cheese melting under the drizzling of the sweetpepper Midorian hotsauce. They'd even thrown a few pickled melons on the side. With a cold mug of ale…it was perfection.

Too bad she couldn't eat it.
No sooner had Mimi set the plate down, something flashed across Quinn's datapad she absolutely couldn't ignore. Her silent warning system had been tripped. She guessed she had about three minutes to make her escape before the friends of whoever had broken into The Areta arrived.

Trying not to look like she was in a hurry, the Twi'lek sent the fries a mournful look before tossing money on the counter for the last two drinks and heading for the front door with purpose.
It opened before she'd made in two steps from the counter. Two men and one woman strode inside, wicked expressions, all wearing similar red armbands, all sporting the same tattoo design on their necks.

"Welcome! Grab a seat, I'll be with you in a minute!" Mimi twittered at them from behind the bar.

So much for her three minutes.

Quinn swiveled back around, grabbing her plate of food and heading towards the tables like it was situation normal. Except it wasn't. Her early alarm system had failed, her contact never showed, the Lylek Rim Rippers were here and it was only a matter of time before they figured her out. Other than a yellow-hued male Twi'lek in the back corner, hers was the only lekku in here. The only weapons she had against them now was the glitchy DoublVI in her pocket, the blaster pistol on her hip and her wit.

All the tables and booths were either too full or absolutely empty. She needed something in-between. Swallowing the panic stirring in her throat, Quinn made for the only booth with one other person in it ([member="Alistair Fenn"]).

Sliding in beside the man, the smuggler gave him a comfortable smile like they were old friends and set the fries down between them, grabbing a few and stuffing them in her mouth as she slumped back unconcerned against the creased leathery booth. "Be my friend for ten minutes?" she muttered at him around her food, eyes pleading behind her mask of nonchalance. "I'll even let you have some of my fries."

 

[Alistair Fenn]

[member="Lyla Quinn"]

Alistair barely saw the woman coming.

She wasn't particularly quick with how she moved, but he had been somewhat lost in his own little world of thought. The day was starting to grow long, and he really didn't want to be on the shadowport any more than he had to be. This place was dangerous, for more reason than one.

When Lyla sat herself down in his booth an eyebrow immediately perked.

He glanced down at her plate of fries, lips thinning as he quietly inspected the plate of sliced potatoes. His stomach growled quietly, almost as if on cue, at the idea of food coming to it. Alistair still had a few ration packs back on The Mara, but they were hardly the type of thing that could really satisfy someone. He knew that, and as soon as he was offered the food he almost entirely forgot about the stranger who was suddenly acting like they were best friends.

"Uhh." Alistair said quietly, looking up at the Twi'lek with a frown.

He could swear there was something...off about her.

There was a look in her eyes that didn't quite stick with him, her gaze shifting as if she were looking for something...or someone. His lips thinned, and a small trail of goosebumps ran up his neck. His gut told him that this woman would likely get him killed, but his stomach told him there was free food to be had.

"Sure." He said as he reached down and grabbed a fry. "Though in my part of the Galaxy friends buy you drinks too."

Might as well take advantage.

 

[Lyla Quinn]

“DO they, now?” Hey, anything to get this guy to stick around for another few. Quinn nodded at Mimi who'd been staring at their table from behind the bar since the moment she'd parked her rear in the booth. The waitress hurried over. "You must have some generous friends. Mine don't by me shiet. But I'm swimming in credits right now, so…" she said, digging out a credit chip or two and tossing them to Mimi. "Another few rounds, if you don't mind?" The girl looked ready to say something, flashing Alistair a curious look, but she swept up the credits and headed back to the bar, skirting the unsavory-looking newcomers nervously.
Quinn kept track of the pirates from the corner of her vision. They were making the rounds on the opposite end of the room, table by table. The Twi'lek had maybe seven minutes until Game Over. It occurred to her as she slyly loosened her blaster in its holster that suddenly finding yourself a table companion to an uninvited alien and her fries was probably kind of weird. "Look, I'm really not in the habit of sliding into strange men's booths, but I—"

"Here you go!" Mimi bent, placing the glasses on the table in front of them. Working tables for so long means you learn to pick up on things. The addition of the Twi'lek the man had asked about was odd enough, but there was a nervous shine to her eyes Mimi knew well. Must have something to do with the three that had just come in, based on her quick turnaround… But it wasn't her business. Not yet, anyway. There was a ding! in the back. Her next order was up. She tucked her rag into her pocket and took off once more.

Quinn plucked her drink from the table and raised her glass at the man next to her, smiling like an old friend. "Cheers." And I really hope I didn't just sign your death warrant, she thought uneasily, knocking back a decent swig.

| [member="Alistair Fenn"] |​

 

[Alistair Fenn]

[member="Lyla Quinn"]

"Prost." Alistair said as he knocked back the drink.

In truth he had absolutely no idea what the Twi'lek wanted or what she was after, but that hardly mattered at the moment. He had been hungry, she brought food, he'd been thirsty, she'd bought a drink. Who could argue with that logic.

Of course normally he would have thought she was an escort of some sort, perhaps someone trying to scam him, but...well what kind of scammer bought their mark anything at all? Usually it was the other way around, and if she was an escort then she was doing a poor job of selling herself. He frowned for a brief moment, glancing at Lyla before his eyes slowly wandered around the room. Perhaps she was hiding from something? That seemed likely but why do it here?

"Right." The Smuggler said with a smirk. "And I don't usually let random women buy me drinks."

He told her. "But I'm in a very generous mood."