My chit. I’m calling it in. Sorry. Have a safe trip.
— Morgan
— Morgan
Callahan made his way down the boarding ramp of The Fortunate Son. As he hit the bottom a servent droid waddled out and intercepted him. An impatient sigh escaped his lips as he came to a stop allowing the droid to follow it's primary programming.
"Welcome to Nar Shaddaa, My name is LEP-27c8 I'm a representative of Deucalon spaceport, how long do you plan on docking here?"
Callahan considered the droid's question and said, "For a while."
"Excellent, in that case, I'll just need a form of payment to take care of—"
"I'm gonna need to see proof you are who you say you are," interrupted Cal.
LEP's head cocked to the side as it processed this request. "Sir, I can assure you," it began in that perfect customer service tone of placation, but Cal rolled his eyes and said, "No proof, no payment."
The two stood face to photoreceptor for an uncomfortable moment. Cal suddenly became very aware of the heavy blaster on his hip. He could feel the adrenalin enter his system, he focused on his breathing and kept cool. The droid wavered.
"Jerk," muttered the droid as it whirled and scuttled away. The Corellian made his way to the receptionist and got everything squared away with his stay on Nar Shaddaa. On his way out he stopped by the gift store and bought a pack of cigarettes. He wasn't much of a smoker, but his nerves were shot from the past few days. He pulled the plastic off the blue package of Corellian Spirits tossed it in a nearby trashcan and slipped the cigarettes into his duster.
Callahan McKoy exited the spaceport and searched for somewhere to gain his bearings. He spotted a handrail out of the way and made his way over. He leaned on the rail, which had a striking view of the sprawling Ecumenopolis, and tried to take it all in. His hometown Coronet City was the largest city on Corellia, but it's immensity didn't hold a candle to the concrete jungle that was splayed out before him. Larger than life holoprojected advertisements ranging from wholesome to lascivious played on repeat in a chaotic ebb and flow that waltzed across the skyline like some perverse welcome sign. Streams of speeders crisscrossed the neon lights resembling the static in a transmission with a bad connection. He took out a cigarette and lit up. He blew out a plume of smoke that blended in well with the general miasmic atmosphere. Cal pushed away from the rail and pulled out his personav.
The Corellian punched in the coordinates from Morgan's message and was surprised to see the location wasn't far. He took another drag on his Corellian Spirit before stamping it out under his heel. It wouldn't be long before things got crazy, and the closer he got to the chaos... the more excited he got.
@Pontus