Keepin Corellia Weird

Location: Mandalorian Space, near a refitting dock owned by Mandal Hypernautics
Julius was in trouble, that was to be sure and well beyond debate or argument. His beloved Turhaya was in a bad way. The rugged and faithful YT-2400 had run afoul a rather heavily armed and angry One Sith patrol in the Corellian space, smuggling arms to the resistance cells there. Nothing special, mind you. Old Czerka and Hekler Kok and Browncoat arms and Tenloss products. Whatever Julius could scrape up with the minimal credits and resources he had at his disposal, given smuggling was as boom-and-bust a business as always. There was no thought on his retreat, he had flipped the switch on the hyper-drive and just... Gone... Trusting his gut and his instinct he had made the first few jumps all on pure thought, cycling through space at utter random. He was running for his life, hoping they didn't find him, or track him down. The Turhaya didn't exactly have a bounty on her, nor did Julius... But he was known to be a Corellian, known to be a Jedi and a frequent ally to the Galactic Alliance. His official connection to them was just as a representative of the Green Jedi, but he had developed many friends in the Alliance, and so he was seen most often on their front lines. Just how the chits fell, really.
Finally, he had stopped with the random near blind jumps, and when he did a string of flurid curses and damn near hit the console with a closed fist. Until he realized what had happened the last time he did that. The docking and fitting hub above him was one he knew well, loosely a space owned by Mandal Hypernautics and the indomitable [member="Captain Larraq"] by extension. Who, if he remembered Julius, probably wouldn't care much at all to see him again, considering he had almost stole a shipment of beskar from his company once. To be fair, his associate Aran had told him it was stolen from another in the first place..
Regardless, Julius sent ahead a ping, and got authorization to dock, which he did with some difficulty. The ship was nearly unable to be flown with the fire and damage it had sustained. In fact, though he hadn't checked, he was pretty sure in at least one exhaust vent or two, it may actually be actively on fire.. Or at the least, had been when he began to flee. It steered like a drunken bantha like a bum leg, and the dockhand actually cursed him out so much when he docked, he apologized to the man, and paid him a handsome tip in both his scarce credits, and a good bottle of Corellian ale for him and every man of the emergency team.
That's it... I need to hire an on-board mechanic, and maybe a pilot, at the very least. This is getting disgraceful...
Plus, if he actually destroyed the ship, he was pretty sure [member="Coren Starchaser"] would kill him dead for it. Or at the very least glare at him in that way all Starchasers' had, that made him feel utterly insignificant and idiotic. Probably the only Corellian in the Galaxy who couldn't bloody fly a ship worth a shab. But he stopped a random passerby, and got directions for the stations cantina, where she said a couple of likely sorts were hanging out. Though, again, she gave him a look that said Why do you need one?
And scoffed, actually scoffed as he thanked her and sought out the cantina, entering it as casually as he could, his pistol proudly displayed just outside his long leather browncoat, but his lightsaber hidden within its folds. No need to go advertising that bit of himself really. Especially not with that particular piece, as most would likely identify it and know immediately what it was, and where it came from. Might give folks the wrong impression and idea of him if he strutted about in robes and a cloak, waving his hand at folks. So he stepped inside and smiled wide, asking for the one he was told to seek out, tucking his thumbs into his suspenders and tugging them, waiting to find them.
[member="Kayleigh Tyven"]