It was one of the nicer places on Corellia, Pidge thought. She, having been a dancer-by-night, knew a good establishment on sight. The table tops were devoid of grease and the floor boasted no spilled drinks or bodily fluid. Even the entertainment was what the haughty might call ‘refined’, though she knew even the rich paid to watch more... lewd things. Only a month ago, she almost ended up as a personal entertainer for a senator in order to glean syndicate information. Thankfully, it had not come to that as she had faked brainrot plague to escape the precarious situation, aided by her great medical droid companion. My... how her life had changed. The thrill of it all kept her going.
Now, however, after a long day of attempting to remotely slice a weapons permit database, every inch of her teal body was thoroughly exhausted. The street fight before lunch likely had done nothing to help either, and the Twi’lek nursed a bruised jaw. Gingerly sipping a fluorescent orange cocktail, she surveyed her surroundings, soaking in every detail of the place: the band, the lights, the drunk patrons, the busy bartenders. It felt pleasantly of home. That is, until someone rudely decided to try and nab her bag. The theif, likely expecting a few credits, would be over the moons to find several pieces of expensively modded, less than legal, tech.
“Hey!” The sharp voice cut easily through the general murmur of subdued joyousness. ”That is my bag, thank you! Kark it!” The duros opportunist had run off, straight into a crowd of people.
@Killa Ree