- Joined
- Dec 6, 2005
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Long nights, short glasses. (Ask)
There were few things that could make Lucien Balto melancholy. Losing a card game, finding that a friend has died, and a job going bad. Now however it was the fact that he was running out of credits fast. He had to make good on a lot of debts, pay a Hutt that was blaming him for botching a job, and needing to keep himself alive to pay them. Despite all these things he still saw it as appropriate to drown away his problems in the small glass that sat on the coaster at this bar counter. The small little Cantina called Reginald's Gambit may strike people as a place where only the dregs of society would commune, it was actually just a hang out for university students and the working class after a long day. No place to find clients.
Still, opportunity tended to present itself in the strangest of places, whether it be a chatty urinal patron or a sultry female minx looking for a big strong man to help her through the night. Only to later find out that mistress is a mister and no amount of salt baths may cleanse you of the filth...
Okay, it was probably getting to be too much booze and it was getting late. Doing a quick scan of The Gambit showed that the only people still in attendance were the barkeep, himself, and a group of giddy young students who couldn't believe they weren't ID'd when they asked for drinks. Setting an unshaven and disheveled head down on the counter, the smuggler closed his eyes momentarily.
There were few things that could make Lucien Balto melancholy. Losing a card game, finding that a friend has died, and a job going bad. Now however it was the fact that he was running out of credits fast. He had to make good on a lot of debts, pay a Hutt that was blaming him for botching a job, and needing to keep himself alive to pay them. Despite all these things he still saw it as appropriate to drown away his problems in the small glass that sat on the coaster at this bar counter. The small little Cantina called Reginald's Gambit may strike people as a place where only the dregs of society would commune, it was actually just a hang out for university students and the working class after a long day. No place to find clients.
Still, opportunity tended to present itself in the strangest of places, whether it be a chatty urinal patron or a sultry female minx looking for a big strong man to help her through the night. Only to later find out that mistress is a mister and no amount of salt baths may cleanse you of the filth...
Okay, it was probably getting to be too much booze and it was getting late. Doing a quick scan of The Gambit showed that the only people still in attendance were the barkeep, himself, and a group of giddy young students who couldn't believe they weren't ID'd when they asked for drinks. Setting an unshaven and disheveled head down on the counter, the smuggler closed his eyes momentarily.
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