OOC Account
Nal Hutta | Industrial Town of Jiguuna | Poison Pit Cantina
@[member="Ignasius Van-Derveld"]
Nal Hutta was maybe second armpit of the Galaxy. Nar Shadaa definitely trumped first, but it was a close call. True, there were a lot of attractions that could be enough to keep distracted by, but non ever had her grounded long. Magena Dray, was a habitual woman, a roamer; only lingering long enough to get the jist, and moving on before someone could pin down the drifter. Today was just business as usual. That is, if she actually had a usual. Normally buisness meant whatever happened, happened. Life didn't always pan out the way things were, but she was most comfortable with her eye-brow raising choices, - and unlike most in the Galaxy - she didn’t need a hero-complex to get paid. Live to die another day, or some dramatic motto like that. To die for someone else's cause just seemed nonsensical. Dying cause she pissed off the wrong person? Well… what was life without a little bit of an adrenaline rush?
And what about the bar she was in? The poison pit? Not exactly the most put together place to stand the test of time. The building was dirty, eroding if her senses were right, and the air carried the stench of stale cigara smoke, mixed with liquor, and perfumed by man odor. Company around here sucked, and the 'most friendly' of folk, lingered around in totally non-inconspicuous group circles. She sighed in a huff of breath. As a single woman alone at the bar, she looked pretty out of place.
But like some other people here, she was looking for opportunity. Rivals had maybe gotten the first whiff, but Magena had the contacts and means. When the high tide rolled in, she’d be the first ready to ride the wave and claim her deserved prize. No one was going to get in her way.
It was just… waiting wasn't exactly her strong suit, never had been. In the least though, she could be grateful that the liquor was good.
Holding a cup in her hands, she chucked back the golden contents of ale like a refreshing glass of water, and delicately wiped away the spittle with the provided, and cheap, napkin. Empty cup, slow day. Tapping on the bar with long manicured nails, she indicated the need for a second round.