Bucketheads. A bit of a slur for Mandalorians as much as Stormtroopers and whoever else. Yet the Duros himself had a bit of a misshapen head according to other observers.
Racial and cultural slurs aside, however, this establishment had plenty of Mandalorians and some others tossed into the mix like said Duros. And that Zabrak woman beside him of course.
But Jon Dromon wasn’t interested. He didn’t care about the half-naked dancers. Women wasn’t his interest at the moment so much as getting what was his. And what was his was just one Mandalorian: the Badger. His employer. Wherever the kriff he is.
Or…was there another Mandalorian?
A different ‘package’ for Jon Dromon?
After all, he’s shady, and unscrupulous.
All about credits. And he had…business.
Only he wouldn’t confess this to his Mandalorian companion. They weren’t even companions to begin with. Just had mutual benefit as they searched for the same person.
Rum comes Dromon’s way. Water for Krodas. Jon sipped his and listened as Zaia asked the questions. She didn’t mince words. Just sounds a bit like an idiot. Badger-y this and buckethead that. Couldn’t she keep it basic?
Kind of reminded him of…that idiot Sector Ranger, to be honest. Guess that’s why they arrived hand in hand. For the bounty hunter’s part, he only worked with Wolf because that was the job.
“You bet your Mando butt I know about badgers!” Came that Zabrak’s answer. “Vicious beasts! Had one in my garden! Can’t even believe it! Attacked an opossum! Raccoon too! Honey badger don’t care yo! Here ya go! I’ll show ya a video!” She whipped out her smartphone and laughed at what was shown.
Jon just gave her a blank look like what the crap but whatever and turned to the bartender who spoke.
“Yeah I know the Badga. Well, I don’t know ‘im, capiche? I know of him, if you get my meanin’. He’s connected with this establishment. It ain’t his and more than one Mandalorian is an affiliate but Badga’s an infobroka of sorts.”
Bartender turned the cap off a bottle of Tommy Runner whiskey and knocked back the shot, breathing heavily. Maybe just breathing naturally, Jon thought.
It wasn’t surprising that the man and any other person knew of the Badger considering this establishment was where he conducted some of his business and was Jon’s employer. Guess I better ask the questions going forward. Thanks for nothin’, Mandalorian.
“Have you seen him?”
“Ah lessee heeyuh a minute—”
“That’s four bottles, plus four bottles, equals eight bottles.”
Another man spoke behind the bar, some kind of barback maybe, or whatever person helped coordinate shipments judging by the crate of eight bottles of whiskey before him. He spoke into a smartphone.
“So…eight bottles in total. That’s the price of four bottles plus four bottles more. Yes. Yes, thank you. Yes, it’s a good deal, paying the price of eight bottles for eight bottles.”
Barkeep, as if struggling to think, just looked at him as if he was an idiot.
“What the fuck did ya just say?”
Asked bartender, more fuming than breathing, while Jon Dromon just watched with his cigar smoke curling. He spied with his wide eyes an ice bucket on one side, a Little Lara Ladyfish singing fish toy on a board, and a comlink station.
“No. No I think this was a very fair deal.” Barback began pulling the bottles out of the crate until it was empty. “Yes. Yes I look forward, toward, forward to doing business with you in the future, sir.” -Click-
“Whaddya fuckin’ stupid?”
“Huh?” He looked up, gormless.
“You bought this shit at full price? Thought I told ya it’s sellin’ at half price. Half. Price. Eight bottles fowah the cost of fowah.”
“I’m sorry, Sope.”
“Whaddya just say?”
“I said I’m sorry, Sope. It is what it is. I just did what I did.”
“Oh you just did what ya did, is it? You gettin' smawt wit me?”
“Yes. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Yes, Sope. I dunno. I just did what I did. Just bought the crate.”
“Oh yeah? Well heeyuh’s ya fuckin’ crate in ya FUCKIN’ FACE”
Barkeep began smashing that empty crate into barback’s face.
Turning away from that rage, Jon turned toward Zaia Krodas.
“Ehh I think we’re gonna need to find someone else to ask.”
Racial and cultural slurs aside, however, this establishment had plenty of Mandalorians and some others tossed into the mix like said Duros. And that Zabrak woman beside him of course.
But Jon Dromon wasn’t interested. He didn’t care about the half-naked dancers. Women wasn’t his interest at the moment so much as getting what was his. And what was his was just one Mandalorian: the Badger. His employer. Wherever the kriff he is.
Or…was there another Mandalorian?
A different ‘package’ for Jon Dromon?
After all, he’s shady, and unscrupulous.
All about credits. And he had…business.
Only he wouldn’t confess this to his Mandalorian companion. They weren’t even companions to begin with. Just had mutual benefit as they searched for the same person.
Rum comes Dromon’s way. Water for Krodas. Jon sipped his and listened as Zaia asked the questions. She didn’t mince words. Just sounds a bit like an idiot. Badger-y this and buckethead that. Couldn’t she keep it basic?
Kind of reminded him of…that idiot Sector Ranger, to be honest. Guess that’s why they arrived hand in hand. For the bounty hunter’s part, he only worked with Wolf because that was the job.
“You bet your Mando butt I know about badgers!” Came that Zabrak’s answer. “Vicious beasts! Had one in my garden! Can’t even believe it! Attacked an opossum! Raccoon too! Honey badger don’t care yo! Here ya go! I’ll show ya a video!” She whipped out her smartphone and laughed at what was shown.
Jon just gave her a blank look like what the crap but whatever and turned to the bartender who spoke.
“Yeah I know the Badga. Well, I don’t know ‘im, capiche? I know of him, if you get my meanin’. He’s connected with this establishment. It ain’t his and more than one Mandalorian is an affiliate but Badga’s an infobroka of sorts.”
Bartender turned the cap off a bottle of Tommy Runner whiskey and knocked back the shot, breathing heavily. Maybe just breathing naturally, Jon thought.
It wasn’t surprising that the man and any other person knew of the Badger considering this establishment was where he conducted some of his business and was Jon’s employer. Guess I better ask the questions going forward. Thanks for nothin’, Mandalorian.
“Have you seen him?”
“Ah lessee heeyuh a minute—”
“That’s four bottles, plus four bottles, equals eight bottles.”
Another man spoke behind the bar, some kind of barback maybe, or whatever person helped coordinate shipments judging by the crate of eight bottles of whiskey before him. He spoke into a smartphone.
“So…eight bottles in total. That’s the price of four bottles plus four bottles more. Yes. Yes, thank you. Yes, it’s a good deal, paying the price of eight bottles for eight bottles.”
Barkeep, as if struggling to think, just looked at him as if he was an idiot.
“What the fuck did ya just say?”
Asked bartender, more fuming than breathing, while Jon Dromon just watched with his cigar smoke curling. He spied with his wide eyes an ice bucket on one side, a Little Lara Ladyfish singing fish toy on a board, and a comlink station.
“No. No I think this was a very fair deal.” Barback began pulling the bottles out of the crate until it was empty. “Yes. Yes I look forward, toward, forward to doing business with you in the future, sir.” -Click-
“Whaddya fuckin’ stupid?”
“Huh?” He looked up, gormless.
“You bought this shit at full price? Thought I told ya it’s sellin’ at half price. Half. Price. Eight bottles fowah the cost of fowah.”
“I’m sorry, Sope.”
“Whaddya just say?”
“I said I’m sorry, Sope. It is what it is. I just did what I did.”
“Oh you just did what ya did, is it? You gettin' smawt wit me?”
“Yes. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Yes, Sope. I dunno. I just did what I did. Just bought the crate.”
“Oh yeah? Well heeyuh’s ya fuckin’ crate in ya FUCKIN’ FACE”
Barkeep began smashing that empty crate into barback’s face.
Turning away from that rage, Jon turned toward Zaia Krodas.
“Ehh I think we’re gonna need to find someone else to ask.”