Brentaal was a wonderful planet. No rival syndicate members chasing Pidge, no excessive amounts of city smog. It was rare for a core planet not to be entirely covered in a sprawling cityscape, and the Twi’lek found it refreshing. Sure, dark alleyways and crowded streets were exciting, but only if she knew her way around, had an advantage. The advantage she had on Brentaal, or at least at this cantina, was slightly different, more simple. Just a set of subtly weighted chance cubes, one that had an 60% chance of landing on numbers 1,2, or 3, and the second with the same chance for 4,5, and 6. The real skill was doing the math and strategizing to win, so she had more than just luck going for her. The finishing touch to the performance, because the woman was doing nothing if not putting on a show, was a smug smile and a confident air. Her chances of winning against others who didn’t have the same ‘advantages’ were roughly 70%, a number she would bet on, but that didn’t draw too much attention. To shake off suspicion even more, Pidge shared her dice. The real key was to know they were weighted and use the fact wisely.
The clatter of dice sounded for what must’ve been the hundredth time as the Twi’lek swept twelve dozen more credits into her bag from the last round. This time, however, a collective gasp issued from the other three players at the greasy table. Expecting to see a rare roll, she looked up. The sight was much worse. A crack ran through two faces of the vermillion die, revealing a small chromium bead. Kark. A teal hand deftly scooped up dice, but the damage was already. A wave of angry protest erupted from onlookers and gamblers alike. She was womp rat meat. Already ducking hurled drinks and a few punches, she attempted to evade hands grabbing at her lekku, clothes, bag, and arms.
“There must be some mistake. I’m so sorry! Let me go.” She really should’ve just danced, Pidge thought resignedly. That would’ve made more credits anyway.
“This hussy just cheated. Get her! Call the constabulary!”
“Filthy alien!”
“What a bitch. Somebody kriffing get the Twi’lek.”
“Nice playing with you, too!” The light voice was growing more desperate as crowds blocked the way to the door. A devaronian yanked the woman backwards, his rancid breath stinking up the air by her face.
“Wait a second. This scoundrel is Lorritt. She stole my speeder bike the other day and they say she kills people when she fancies.” Someone spat, but otherwise the crowd was once again dead silent.
“I- I’m not. I just got here. I don’t know who that person is.” The bloodthirsty cheers that resounded from patrons que any hope she had. They were going to eat her up whole.
@Tom