The bar at the end of the line.

[Sangga]

Spoiler: For potential participants.

Any roguish, smugglery types. Anyone in the local area. This is rather off the beaten track

Outer Rim Territories
Watza Sector
Koda Space Station
Co-ordinates: I-18
Sturta's, a bar, a gambling establishment, and the only entertainment in this half of the quadrant.
​

"I'll stand." This hand would end the night on a high, and with his twenty with four cards in hand, Hart was set to clear up nicely. To give them there due, these backwater bumpkins barely had a league set up on the station. The Smugglers were to temporary to set up anything of note. From the faces of his compatriots, he was holding something akin to a plus four, or maybe a something equally useless for the Nerf-Herder who was sitting on a nineteen. The lenses of Captain Quint Hart's were checked by his opponent before the game, and shown to be nothing more than low-light enhancement spectacles. These round lenses were revealed once more from the brim of his hat. "Well, you gonna play, Bantha Bouncer?" Hart's face was an imoveable visage, all the more haunting now you couldn't see his eyes behind the pince nez. The farmer buckled and folded, the inevitable finally realised. "Thank boys, its been a pleasure." He really thickened the twangs in his Hapan accent, making him sound like he was an Out-of-system spacer. It had been all thise mystique, and his style of clothes and accoutrement that had caught these fellas attention. But they had credits, and Hart had wanted more credits, this job was an earner; espcially for the distance. But, he knew the rest of A.C.E would want something else. So this trip to Koda, would be the perfect oppurtunity to get back into the old gain, and to get close to the pulse of the hyperspace lanes.

He was about to get up, when someone placed a bottle, of a rather favoured liquor of Hart's, onto the table. He scooped up the credits into his dusters inside pocket, ensuring to show the Laroon wood grip of his Mercy pistol. Then he tipped his vision up and adjusted the sit of his spectacles.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith quietly walked into the bar, doing her best to keep a low profile though surely that was difficult. Not everyday was a free Zeltron seen wandering the Outer Rim, especially a place like this.

Despite that, the woman kept to herself and walked straight to the bar counter, ordering a Reactor Core and putting credits on the table with a smile. Her green eyes darted around the room, sizing up people eyeing her with suspicion or interest as either a job opportunity or a fighting opportunity.

The Zeltron eyed a card table and tilted her head as a man stood up. She wasn't much of a gambler nor a fan of simple games like that, so she shook her head and went back to her drink.

Soon enough, a man had approached and nonchalantly ordered a drink as well as leaning her direction. He spoke and Herrith focused on his breath as he waited for a reply. He'd clearly been drinking an ocean of alcohol.

"The stench of alcohol is strong with this one, Master Jedi."

After that she turned away and resumed her drinking. She hadn't time for drunkards. After all, she was just here to wait for her ship to be refuelled.

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

His hand let go of the bottle as it was placed on the playing table, his other hand pulling out a chair that had just been vacated.
"Looks like you've been busy, Hart" Taking a seat and smiling to his companion, Neroka knew there was no easier way to find the Hapan than coaxing people out of their money round a Paazak table "Fancy another round?"
He tipped his hat towards his new company, taking out a small stack of credits he'd reserved to lose at the tables, with a flask of bright green liquid soon following it.
"Deal me in"
One of the figures around the table grunted, looking worse for wear with his unusual number of eyes all focussed on his lost credits piled neatly beside Hart. Slowly, the figure started to set the table with some reluctance.
It felt just like the old times in so many ways, and while he was no better at playing cards he was more savvy than before when facing the Hapan. Years together had taught him especially to never put more credits in than you could afford to lose. It was a lesson that hadn't taken long to learn, but it amused him to think that so many people could lack that common sense that it was almost a stable income for any gambler worth their salt at the tables.
Taking the top from the flask and gulping at some of the rationed green contents, he tucked it away and let the burning liquid run down his throat.

 

[Minuteman75]

"To hell with you!"

Growled a six feet four inches tall baldish human in gray and dusty makeshift armor, standing up from a table behind Hart, Herrith, and Kaylon. The source of this human's ire was directed toward a slightly small figure in an crimson jacket and brown pants. The spacer in the flamboyant outfit, a young Mon Calamari by the name Rens Ahim looked up from his seat toward the man. With a nervous smile and raising both hands, Rens replied.

"Hey take it easy man. I'm just letting down the facts."

"Shut up, your price is noting more than robbery."

"No its more than reasonable Fric. I got the cargo, waiting back at the ship just like we agreed. I only raised the price because ya fail to mention that pirates were involved."

Rens said in a tone that made clear of his annoyance. The mercenary snarled back in respond. Who does this little fish think he is?

"How I was supposes to know that?"

Keeping his right hand up Rens went on to explained.

"First of all, Fric you were raised in that sector and operated there for years. Second those pirates are run by your kriffing EX. She gave me a call, demanding the loot with a generous offer. Lucky for you I turned her down, but my ship took a beating in the process. That schutta does not take rejection well."

"Who cares about your frakking ship?! It's a piece of shit anyway."

Fic roared for all nearby to hear then raised a pistol toward the Mon Calamari's face. Instead of fear young spacer narrowed his eyes at the insult toward his vessel. A moment later Rens looked behind Fic and with shock displayed with a gaping mouth.

"Greza is that you?"

Upon the mention of his ex-wife Fic frantically turned around to see if it was her. With the merc's back turned, Rens Ahim shot a stun bolt beneath the table at Fic in the butt area with a hidden blaster. With a loud moan the soldier of fortune collapsed sideways to the hard floor. Rens shook his head in disappointment and thought.

Stupid idiot.

 

[AutoFox]

Koda Station. It was, Triter remarked, the same durasteel kriff-hole he had left behind all those years ago. Even on approach, he could see the parts of its battered exterior that generations of maintenance techs had never bothered to repair, and even from the outside the young pirate could recognize some of the windows he had stared out of as a kit, looking to the distant stars and dreaming of a life beyond the little backwater space station.
He had, of course, gone to see those stars; he had seen wonders and terrors beyond the imagining of his younger self. First as a cabin boy aboard the pirate ship Ossein, protegee to the great Krayd Hasperre himself, who had taken him under his wing and given him an amazing new life, and then as a wandering snubfighter jockey, after that new life had crumbled away.
The Amaran banked his third-hand S-100 Stinger - a recent acquisition to replace his old vessel, which he had lost to bad fortune on a previous job - toward one of the station's cavernous docking bays, half ignoring the drone of the traffic control droid guiding him in over the comm.
After all these years, he was home, though he really couldn't say it was good to be there.

Triter Zonne strode through the familiar corridors, cloak drawn tight around him against the breeze from the climate control system, which was always set too cold and too strong in this part of the station. Discarded sheets of flimsi and other refuse swirled in the air currents; here and there, an overworked and under-serviced sanitation droid chased down bits of garbage. Lighting on the station was provided less by the flickering overhead fixtures, and more by the countless signs and holoposters plastered to every surface.
It was indeed just as he remembered it, Triter thought.
After the death of his parents and siblings, Triter had come to Koda Station in hopes of enlisting the sector authorities in bringing his family's killers to justice. The police, just as corrupt as the mobs they ostensibly fought, had refused, and Triter, with nothing to return home to and indeed no way to leave the station, had spent years as a corridor urchin aboard the station, before being taken in by Hasperre and his crew.
The Amaran had few happy memories of the place, but it was not strictly nostalgia which had brought him back.
It had been a long, long time since Triter Zonne had ever truly believed in anything. The only cause he had ever really felt a part of - Krayd Hasperre's quest to destroy the Wazta Sector's organized crime with acts of vigilante piracy - had gone down in flames. Triter had of course been involved in causes since then - he had signed on as a mercenary with more rebel armies than he could remember - but only a few had stuck with him. He had, of course, led part of the Great Raid on Ziost several years prior, and he supposed he had never been paid for that one, but the attack had not attained its goals, and the Galaxy-wide rebellion Triter had hoped the raid would spark had never flared up.
Until recently, perhaps.
Triter had been conflicted, of late. Only recently, a faction calling itself the Insurgency had managed to take over a HoloNet broadcast node, and had made a Galaxy-wide address calling for free beings to stand up and take the Galaxy back from the Sith. Triter had seen it, and something in his gut told him that this time, finally, the revolution he had dreamed of might actually be happening.
The question, really, was whether he dared hope it could happen. The Amaran had seen causes crash and burn, and he wasn't sure if the Insurgency would be just one more in a long series of lost causes he had thrown in with.
He needed perspective. And so, he had returned to the place where - for him - it had all begun.

Sturta's was exactly where Triter remembered it, and he entered cautiously, knowing its reputation. As a young kit, the Amaran had taken jobs here from minor crime bosses and others to run messages and small packages too sensitive for droids or the comm net. It had been a dingy, dangerous pit back then, and from all appearances, it still was.
He walked past a table where a Mon Cal sat across from a slumped human male, the air bearing the ozone scent of a recent stun blast. Ignoring the two, he reached the bar, hopping up onto a stool at the end and ordering a drink from the bartender droid.
"Syrspirit, straight up." He ordered, glancing briefly around at the other patrons...

 

[TWD26]

Muse​

The low wailing sound of the lone Bith Sabriquet player battled against the murmurs and yelling of the patrons of Sturta's bar. With the flickering lights, the foul wampa like stench that clung to the air, and the average patron being no better than your average moisture farmer, Kal could hardly consider it a lavish bar, but instead more of a bantha's watering hole. He had heard of the infamous station before, once or twice from a small fox-like companion he hadn't seen nor remembered in years. But, that was beside the point--he and his Besalisk companion were here for one thing only, the opportunity for credits.

"Poor Sod can barely squeeze the notes out of that Sabriquet, his notes always crack halfway through," Rex bellowed towards Kal.

Kal kicked his feet up, sliding the holonet frames down to gain a closer look at the Bith who was struggling to manage any decent rhythm, "I thought you were a fan of Jatz, not the Tatooine Blues," Kal responded with a smirk as he looked towards his companion, his cigarra hanging loosely from his bottom lip.

"Don't fool yourself, I've been listening to the blues since the day I was born." Rex paused as he looked out into the crowd, his four arms gripping against the table. "Do you see him?"

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, Kal's head swiveled through the crowd, noticing a pair of players at a pazaak table, while another much larger mercenary struggled with a squeamish Mon Calamari. "Nothing, but the usual kriff, stilling about..." He paused as his eyes drifted upon a stout man, rummaging through the crowd, his gray hair was slicked back, his aged face weathered. His holonet frames blinked and flashed as he scanned his face.

Analyzing facial scans....
Krang Skriven...Match Confirmed.

"Bingo..." Kal grinned, as he slid the lens from his face, revealing his cybernetic left eye. His feet swiveled off the table and down onto the metal flooring. His hand reaching inside of his buttoned suit jacket. Rex pushed himself out of the seat and stood up, hulking over the table.

"I'll block the exit, you nab the stupid womp rat."

Kal simply nodded, tossing the bud of the cigarra to the floor before standing up. He stretched as he looked out towards the crowd, not noticing any familiar faces. His back slumped a bit forward, both hands in their respective pockets. He limped through the crowd, his left leg slowly trailing behind his much faster than his right.

As he moved, the crowd grew shocked as the larger mercenary fell to the ground, when being stunned. Kal took this time to get behind Krang. He slid out a small holocom, and clicked it on, revealing the bounty on the man. Using his right hand he tapped the shoulder of the much older fugitive, who swiveled around. "I think you dropped this," Kal responded with a smirk.

"What the..." Krang was taken by surprise at the projection of his own bounty, "Why you little..." he lunged forward with a punch towards Kal's gut.

As if he was a current of water, Kal slid back dodging the punch clearly. He threw the holocom into the air, and caught the Krang's trailing side jab. He exhaled with a slight chuckle as the com came crashing back down onto Krang's head, knocking him a bit forward and leaving him exposed. Kal kicked his right leg into the falling man's gut, causing him to gag loudly--blood trailing from his mouth.

Kal watched as Krang went crashing into the floor, completely knocked out. Kal removed a set of stun bracers from his jacket and quickly hooked them to Krang's hands, after having that settled, he used the power of his legs to raise the knocked out man to his feet to be dragged. He watched as a young blonde haired spacer backed up from him. Shooting her a smirk, he responded, "Boo..."

 

[Frannykins87]

Alisha completed her usual check ups on their ships with Pippa, not noting anything out of the ordinary, so she decided to look for the men, as aways. She was so getting used to their company that she preferred it to being on her own. The young woman made her way to the only bar the place had, letting her wavy hair lose and fall to her back. She was always nervous waking into a cantina she didn't know, if you could call this that. As a result, she was pretty much ready to bolt in case of danger. On the other hand, her training with Kyllan did make her a fair bit more confident with her weapon, that hung at her side. As she walks in silently, she scans the room, evidently looking for someone. She spots Kaylon and Hart at a table, and she smirks. They were gambling, shocker really. She notices a few interesting characters in the cantina, and she notices someone laying on the ground. She blinks twice, taking in the scene. Her first insticts were to check if that person was ok, but thought better of it. None of her business...

Despite her attempt at going in completely unnoticed, her long hair and pretty face does draw a few stares. Grumbling to herself, and ignoring those stairs, she reaches the men's table.

"Didn't think you'd be here, men." She says, a smirk on her face and her tone sarcastic. Without waiting for a reply, she takes a chair from a nearby empty table and places it next to her two friends, and looks in on the table.

"How much are you losing this time.." She says to Hart, repressing a soft giggle. She knew Hart doesn't lose, but it was still funny to see his reaction.

 

[Herrith]

The Zeltron kept to herself as small fights and altercations broke out. Common for places like this. Nothing terribly over the top.

She continued to quietly drink and casually scanned the room, tagging newcomers as potential troublemakers and therefore making a note to avoid them.

Herrith ordered yet another drink and then continued minding her own business, for better or worse...

 

[Sangga]

"Hotshot... impeccable observation of the situation as always." There wasn't an ounce of humour in the Captain's face. All the more, his spectacles gave his visage a surreal appearance. He twisted off the cap as the first cards were placed in front of their owners. Hart took a belt of Rotgut, cheap and stinging; excellent to be back on it. He drew a hand of cards from his deck. The plan was already forming, and he set out a modern bet on his two. More cards ran out, and he received a four on his five, then he got a ten. A modest number compared to the three card nineteen stand of the farmsteader, now all in. At this point, Alisha arrived.

"Didn't think you'd be here, men. How much are you losing this time?" Hart placed his hand face down and rummaged in his coat to pull out the cigarra case, and lighter.

"That entirely depends on these blokes." A smoke now in the corner of his mouth, he lit up and resumed the game by picking up his hand and placing a '3&6'. In what felt like a previous life, he'd almost killed a man in a fist fight over winning this card as part of a side bet. That put the farmsteader on a ten with minus three, and six. So his nineteen stand was now a one. Hart received another four and he played a plus/minus three and stood on twenty.

The framsteader, and their partner's stood up. Hart drew deeply from the smoke, and blew out a plume as he began to rake in his winnings. Placing the smoke in the corner of his mouth he peered over the pince-nez spectacles. "Now look mates, if you didn't want to loose, you shouldn't of played." One of the farmsteaders, an early loser of a few rounds, took a pace forward. Hart rose up, trying to bring every ounce of his well-bred bulk to bear, letting his hand drift into his duster's pocket. "So if you are out of funds to carry on playing, then you don't need to stay he. Gak me, we don't want you here if you can't play." One of them went to lunge at him, the stone faced man took a half a step left and clocked him on the temple with his right hook. "Anymore, for anymore?"

 

[Herrith]

Herrith watched as a man standing by a table punched another across the temple. Ouch. She took a step forward, towards the table, and spoke.

"Hey, some of us would like to drink in peace. You have any problems, I'd recommend taking it outside. No offense."

She rose an eyebrow and took another sip from her drink, not expecting much of a nice answer considering the situation.

 

[Frannykins87]

Alisha giggled at Harts words, but the smile faded instantly seeing the two men in front of Hart get up. She raised an eyebrow, and instead of sitting down, moved aside. She predicted that Hart, as used to as he was being in this kind of situation, would easily win over. And she saw that many times already, in any case, and this was no different. She smirked as he straight up punched the guy lunging at him in the temple. She sighed. Idiots. She then heard a voice.

"Hey, some of us would like to drink in peace. You have any problems, I'd recommend taking it outside. No offense."

Alisha turned around to see a Zeltron woman scolding them. Alisha gave her an honestly friendly smile, despite the fact that there was a chance she could not have taken it as such.

"Sorry Ma'm. My friend here was simply defending himself. All he was doing was playing cards.."

She then turns around to the other men at Harts table "Seriously though, no need for violence, alright? It's just a game" To this, another man stood up and looked up and down at her. Alisha grimaced, she knew what that meant. When he spoke next, his tone was derogatory, as he stood up himself.

"Why don't you run along, little girl, and leave this matter to proper men?"

Alisha could not help but laugh, then shook her head. She wasn't going to take the bait. She looked to Hart with an quizzical expression, while keeping the man on her side vision, to be safe.

"You have such talent for finding gentlement, Hart..." She giggles, not one bit bothered by the men. Her training was enough that she was confident she'd handle it, if the threatening man. She wasn't keen on causing trouble either, nor disturb the Zeltron woman further, so she secretly hoped the man would just leave..

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

"Hey, some of us would like to drink in peace. You have any problems, I'd recommend taking it outside. No offense." A voice called out from the bar, though Neroka didn't look up from his cards. He knew he'd lose to Hart all the sooner if he didn't pay attention to what was on the table and how best to play his hand.

"Don't start trouble, Hart. If they want to throw a tantrum then its their loss. We don't have to play for money if that'd make things easier for them" Truth be told, it'd save his pocket getting any lighter, though apparently he wasn't heard as the other man stood both stunned at the fall of the first man, and enraged that his friend was out for the count.
With a sigh, he sat up, holding his cards in one hand as his other hand moved to his side. Returning with an old pistol and resting it on his edge of the table, aiming at no one in particular and with his trigger finger resting easy away from the trigger. It was clear to see, and that was the point.

"Sorry Ma'm. My friend here was simply defending himself. All he was doing was playing cards.."

"Yes, exactly" Neroka watched the other man carefully, letting the guy know that if he tried anything there was going to be trouble, either by Hart's fist or Neroka's gun.

"Seriously though, no need for violence, alright? It's just a game" Alisha spoke out and Neroka grunted in agreement. Hearing as the screech of a moving chair suggested another person looking for a fight.

"Why don't you run along, little girl, and leave this matter to proper men?"

At this remark, Neroka put his card hand down and drew to his feet. Listening to Alisha laugh in response and keeping his back to her. He was confident she could cover his blind spots. His pistol in hand at his side and looking across at the new guy. He was a big figure, a slab built by years of drinking and brawling.

"If that's the case then you should leave. Now. Before someone else gets hurt." There was a coldness in Neroka's voice, a warning he hoped the man would heed. Nevertheless, his finger clicked the safety off of his firearm, punctuating his words as quiet settled over the growing tension.

"You have such talent for finding gentlemen, Hart"

"Too true" Neroka grumbled.

 

[Herrith]

"Why don't you run along, little girl, and leave this matter to proper men?"

Well, that was just rude. Herrith scoffed, uttering a curse in her native language before returning to her drink. She delivered a confused look to the girl, as if to say 'Where did you get these guys?' and then continued drinking.

 

[Sangga]

Some voice in the crowd rang out, as the sting from his fist's impact bleed out throughout his body, until nothing remained. "Hey, some of us would like to drink in peace. You have any problems, I'd recommend taking it outside. No offense." He relished in the moment as the bar's eyes darted over. Then the Alisha piped up.

"Sorry Ma'm. My friend here was simply defending himself. All he was doing was playing cards.." Wars, planets, and deeds to space stations had been fought over a rough deal at the table. It wasn't much of a defense, but it was one.

"Don't start trouble, Hart. If they want to throw a tantrum then its their loss. We don't have to play for money if that'd make things easier for them." Firstly, the wors and tone of his friend seemed obvious enough. But, 'don't have to play for money'? What the gak was the point in playing by Senate rules. Where would the thrill come from? He would contain himself, his facial paralysis a blessing at concealing this. His fists tightened with this annoyance but now wasn't-

"Seriously though, no need for violence, alright? It's just a game" Just... a... game? It wasn't just a game! He had increased his profits tenfold with Pazaak, the skills of bluffing, intuition, and the courage he had built up in Dens across this universe. The Kid should know to not say such... blasphemous... yeah that's what some might call it, gakking blasphemous words! He literally owed his life to Pazaak in more than one way.

"Why don't you run along, little girl, and leave this matter to proper men?" he rolled his shoulder and was about to turn to the idiot that made his final mistake for the evening. Neroka beat him to it.

"If that's the case then you should leave. Now. Before someone else gets hurt." He nodded to himself, the marksman had style, almost effortless in his threats.

"You have such talent for finding gentlemen, Hart."

"Too true" Neroka grumbled.

He would've smiled, if he could. But, before hand he watched the fools dragging away their unconscious colleague. Only the gakker threatening Alisha remained, he began to size uo the lump of flesh, yet with allies moving off, he moved on imself with a muttered curse. Hart returned to the sparsely populated table. "Certainly do Kid... but, I found you and Hotshot, not to mention the others... so I'd say I'm breaking even..."

Not a trace of amusement formed on his face, even when gathering the winnings and his cards. Then his spectacled covered eyes noticed something. The farmers had left their decks, so Hart gathered them up gently, so gently it seemed he couldn't have been the same man who had just decked a virile farmhand in one punch, and he rose with trepidation and moved to the bar. Handing them over to the barkeep, who looked a ltitle wary, not hard for a Gotal. The wooly horned empath brayed a little at first then saw the seriousness in Hart's eyes, and must've sensed the sincerity in him. These were important items to people. Hart could've taken the plus and minus five from one of the decks that had one the farmer a hand, But you just didn't do that..

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

"Certainly do Kid... but, I found you and Hotshot, not to mention the others... so I'd say I'm breaking even..."

"I shot at you when we met" He pointed out offhandedly and holstered his pistol, sitting. Neroka hadn't been hard to find. On Taanab, he'd come to them after their loud and extreme atmospheric entrance; gun in hand and taking some warning shots at Hart's feet, they'd intruded on the place he'd made his refuge away from society all those years ago. It seemed the Hapan would never lose his talent for making encounters confrontational. But that never meant they always ended badly.
Sitting back into his chair and nodding to the others around the table for staying their hand in the tense situation. Without a word he withdrew the flask of green liquid and took another long gulp of its contents. Burning like fire down his gullet, it set his throat alight and filled him with a heat that he'd come to enjoy. It seemed the light-hearted entertainment of the game had evaporated with the punches that had interrupted it. Not that it felt any more welcome to begin with when Neroka had arrived, but now it seemed as though no one was in any mood to put any further cash on the table while he and his friends were sat at it.
With Hart gathering the decks of the players who'd left, there was a respectful care about his actions that Neroka couldn't quite understand though he was sure Hart had tried to explain. Pazaak was his game, and Neroka was more than happy to defer any unspoken agreements that came with it. He usually focussed on trying to lose as little money as possible, that was as much the summation of the game for him as any aim to win was.
As his friend headed for the bar, eyes and not just Neroka's own were following him in the wake of what'd happened, and likely wouldn't stray too far from him until they'd leave.
Looking over his shoulder to Alisha, Neroka let his elbow hang over the back of the chair. His eyes drifting around the rest of the audience to gauge their mood. After a while, his eyes returned to her.
"How's the ship?" He muttered in a low tone.

 

[StarWriter]

Space station cantinas. Travelling across the breadth of the galaxy in his years smuggling, Kyllan had seen the inside and been tossed out of more than his share of establishments. From the fairly luxurious to the down right wretched, seedy dives he'd seen just about all of them. But it was something about station bars that had an atmosphere all of their own. It had something to do with the high traffic a station frequently received, on par with most ports, but the fact that they were all jammed into a small space. On a metal husk floating in orbit of some backwater. Keep enough people in close proximity, in an enclosed container with nothing but the void of space all around them and you had a truly unique environment.

As he made his way to this particular bar, having wrapped up a few errands elsewhere on the station he decided to go to the one place he fully expected to find the rest of his friends. This was the first time in a long while, that he'd been anywhere without his ship. Actually, this was the first time period. It was...strange. The Double Entendre was as much a part of him, of his life as the armor he wore and the weapons he carried constantly. So to be without her was and odd feeling, especially since it also meant he was without his droids as well. Despite the somewhat uncomfortable nature of that aspect of his situation he was content. After all he was here with a majority of his disfunctional extended family. However, the rest of the members of A.C.E. had need of the Entendre to pursue their own matters. Striding through the doors, he had to step aside briefly as a few individuals, looking the worse for wear, dragged an unconscious member of their group out of the cantina. Some things are ever present no matter where you are.

Taking a few steps into the bar nearly every eye present fell on him. But then, Mandolorians did tend to stand out in their signature t-shaped visors and in his case his Mk II armor. The markings along the pauldrons and on the kama hanging from his waist all bore the insignia of Clan Jendri. The pair of Sunspears on his thighs and Heavily modified Anti-personnel rifle attached to his back plate tended to draw their own glances as he strode through the room and came to stop at the table where Neroka was still seated. He glanced at Alisha and smiled, though his helmet covered the expression she always brought a smile to his face and she knew that. "Figured I'd find you all in here. Glad to see we have nearly identical tendencies."

His head turned towards the bar where he watched Hart handing over what looked like several decks to the bartender. "He clean out another table full of locals in over their heads?" He asked the two of them while looking to his peer. He and Hart were the Captains of their only two ships thus far. Their run in so long ago was the beginning of what had become a conglomeration of a few insane and skilled, brilliant people he'd come to spend the last few years of his life. Before this, he would have never been pried away from his own ship but he trusted each and every member of A.C.E. with his life. And he knew that T3 and R1 would look after Tycho, Pippa and Kat. Still he shifted uncomfortably and strode up to the bar, coming to stop beside the Hapan. "Those nerf herders stumbling out of her when I came in your doing?" He asked with a sideways glance, his voice modulated slightly by the speaker on his helmet.

"Bottle of Corellian wine." A few credits would be placed on the bar in recompense and Kyllan would serve himself, for which the Gotal seemed more than satisfied letting him do.

 

[Sangga]

He looked tired, fatigued, as if the lightyears had caught up with him. As the confidently cocky Mandolorian arrived he let out a long, drawn out sigh. The Goatal turned sharply, and its hand began to drift under the bar. Then as Hart began to speak, he moved his hand out, holding a glass that he began to polish. "The people here aren't well-travelled... and have no respect for the game..." He wasn't looking at Kyllan until the wine was poured. Then his head turned slightly, if he could cock an eyebrow, he would've. "You gonna take the bucket off? I know how attached you are to it. But you'll find it easier to enjoy your beverage." Slowly he padded back to the table, his honour satisfied, and then settled down with the crew.

He pulled his winnings over, and took his deck and began to drop them into his pockets. "So, I guess those of us not caught in the wake of the laser sword wielder are here now."

 

[Frannykins87]

"Certainly do Kid... but, I found you and Hotshot, not to mention the others... so I'd say I'm breaking even..."

"I shot at you when we met"

Alisha could not help but laugh a good while at that exchange, and the sound of her girly laughter filled the cantina for a brief moment, turning a few heads. Some looks lingered too, as they generally did but Alisha payed no attention to those. Given the spectacle they just witness, it was clear no one really wanted to brave coming near again.

But Kaylon's words were true. Despite the tension of the moment they met Kaylon, looking back at it now it just seemed very funny to her. Very much like these two men to threaten to shoot each other then become buddies.

"I will never find that not funny now..." She smirked at the men, then answered Kaylon's question. "Ship's in good condition, which is really half a miracle considering how Kyllan drives her. Lucky he's got such amazing mechanics" She giggled. She was never one to boast in the past, but she knew when she did good work. She might have exaggerated Kyllan's skills, as he always was an excellent captain, but he DID tend to be a tad reckless.

Alisha then looked around the cantina, just in time too, as she saw the familiar Mandalorian walking towards them. She waved him over and gave him her best, brightest smile. She would have kissed him too, if it wasn't for that helmet of his. Sometimes she'd think he loved his armour more than her...which was ridiculous, but still..

"Those nerf herders stumbling out of her when I came in your doing?"

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't really mind too much that farmers were called that most of the time, and those seemed like morons anyway, but given her background and her circle of acquantainces of Tatooine, most of which were in fact, farmers, it sometimes bothered her how they were seen.

"Just to clarify, nerf herders are not always idiots..but anyway...yes..we MIGHT have encouraged them leaving"

She smirked, without adding much else. She glanced at Hart and Kaylon, hoping they wouldn't mention how one of the farmers had insulted her. Kyllan was not generous if that happened, and although Alisha found that cute most of the time, sometimes he could be a tad overprotective.

"But anyway..." She quickly tried to change the topic "How are things under that helmet of yours?" She grins again a little.