If there was one thing Poet missed about field work, it was the rush brought about by hunting down the lawless and helping the innocent who were in need. Of course he would deny the latter as much as he would easily admit the former – he had a reputation of being the curmudgeonly rookie (not a rookie anymore, gods be damned) to uphold. Or so that was what his colleagues assumed about him.
The bustling metropolis that was Coronet City greeted him the moment The Dream Walker entered the city's range. The assignment he had been given was simple: go undercover as a dealer while on the hunt for a man called Ymir Gaskarth, a supplier fresh out of Kessel who made a small hideout in Corellia. The supplier's last known location was a hotel called The Pacific, some two-star establishment south of the city near the ports. Recent intel also supplied that Gaskarth was posing as a mechanic at a space port and would often frequent the bar called Snoozing Krayt. Poet was here to corroborate the intels sent on the HQ, and once the confirmation was made then he was to proceed with the undercover route and eventually the arse-kicking– the, ahem, arrrest, he meant.
"Get ready for landing, Skippy. Once we touch down you know what to do, alright? Stay on the kriffing ship, kark's sakes," the Ranger told his companion, scowling ever so slightly when the astromech beeped an affirmative rather cheerfully in response. Not long after his ship was docked in the space port where Gaskarth was said to be working at. It was easy to act so inconspicuous when Poet was already in his own disguise, his hair dyed in a mix of pastel blue and green. He was currently clad in a pastel pink, short-sleeved button up shirt, a pair of tight black pants, and brown suede ankle heeled boots. A full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm completed his incognito look, and while Poet didn't protest at the fake ink on his skin he had been very vocal about the outfit choices given to him by one of his superiors.
He specifically asked for something that wouldn't make him stand out and there she went, giving him a wardrobe full of pastel shite. Why couldn't she give him something that suited him more – and in dark colours? Poet would've dropped the case and let someone else handle it if he hadn't been too excited to finally go back to field duty. He also would've sucked it all up if it weren't for the fact that the mission would have to be a two-men job, and while it would be too damned easy to intimidate whoever the hells he was going to be paired up with, that notion immediately went moot when he was told of his partner-to-be's identity.
Poet easily towered the patrons of the Snoozing Krayt when he entered the bar, the boots giving him an additional two inches in the height department that he didn't really need. Karking hells, he knew he looked silly right now – he sure felt like it, and the amorous gazes he was receiving from both male and female patrons were a little disconcerting. Granted, the bar wasn't packed and the customers were still very few and far in between, but still...
Why in the ever loving kark are these pants fecking tight, for gods' sakes!
Strutting confidently towards the bar – conceal, don't feel, Maker – the Ranger shot the pretty Togrutan bartender a brooding look as he seated himself on one of the bar-stools.
"Iridonian whiskey, two glasses," he told her pale green (contact lenses) gaze briefly scanning the bar. No sight of Gaskarth. Yet. And no sight of his partner, still.
The Togrutan smiled, one brow raised as she poured him the drinks and slid the glasses towards him. "For you alone?"
Poet was quick to down one glass, then the other, before he gestured for the bartender to give him another round.
"The first two? Yeah. These next ones?" he told her, faking a tiny grin that almost came out as a grimace. "They're for my... date."
The Togrutan's sympathetic nod almost made the Ranger groan in defeat. If she was assuming that he was feeling jittery at the prospect of meeting his supposed date, then he was more than a hundred percent sure that Sakas was going to tease the kriff out of him – not just from his outfit but more so his cover-up for having her tag along for the duration of his undercover duties.
@Nefieslab