Unnamed cantina
Mos Eisley, Tatooine
The general musk of the canteen eventually gave way to the gaze of the casual observer to reveal the flotsam and jetsam of the galaxy, washed up on the shore of the bar and looking for something or someone to take them back out on the next tide. Various knots of people moved about, sat, whispered, belched, smoked, played flutes of various and exotic origin and argued with one another. As one got closer to the bar, which seemed to throb and heave with the music and smoke, one could make out three figures at a table, and who seemed to be in heated debate. One, seated, was on closer inspection, a Bothan, wearing a worried look and a thick neckdress that looked like it could be pulled up over it's owner's facial features with ease if needs be. The figure standing up was a young human, wearing a short padded (OOC:leather? alternative?) jacket and in possession of wild looking hair, gesturing expansively with one arm whilst pointing at the Bothan, table, and everything in general with the other. The third was sat next to the excited human, a small outline swathed in robes, and seemed to be contributing absolutely nothing to the admittedly apparantly one-sided conversation going on right in front of him.
"Look, I'm just saying, that you can't say that Admiral Thrawn was lazy! He got stuff done, didn't he? He was an incredibly impressive figure, I'm not justifying his actions or anything he has done, but he was a fantastic strategist-he could nigh-well predict everything the Rebellion would do next! I would have thought he was a jedi, if it wasn't for those ysalimoya...what are they called..."
The Bothan looked relieved as his companion, losing his thread, seemed to quiten down.
"Ysalimiri! That's it!"
The Bothan shrank back into his neckscarf.
"If it wasn't for them, well, Jedi, Sith, any old thing he could've been. Incredible guy. Love to have a drink with him. Damn sight more interesting than any of those overblown lawyers, the Coporate Sector Accountants, or whatever it is these days..."
The human ceased gesticulating long enough to locate the container with the remnants of his drink on the table, lift it to his lips, squint sadly down at the pitiful last drops, and drain them. The Bothan seized the chance.
"Look, Mr, ah..."
"Dialo." The human prompted.
"Dialo, yes, shall we, ah, move onto, ah buisiness? I trust you are still wanting that which I have-"
"Of course." The human's entire demeanour seemed to have changed somewhat.
"Then, ah, shall we...?" The Bothan attempted, a little nervously.
"Here? Or outside?"
"Ah...." The Bothan looked once more around the canteen's interior, although he didn't need to see the various eyes all boring into his head, he could feel them. Thanks to his client's brash monologue, which cannot have failed to have stood on the toes of various inhabitants in this incredibly multirational, multifactional drinking establishment, he felt the need to discreetly leave at any given chance.
"Outside, I think that would be, ah, better suited for our purposes." The Bothan began to stand up. To the casual observer, one might have noticed a flicker passing the human's features, though of what emotion that little tic entails, it would have been hard to say.
"Excellent." He nudged the bundle of robes next to him, which reluctantly began to stir."C'mon, Puck, we're leaving." Then, to the Bothan; "I know just the place. Say, whats that, ah, little stutter of yours, got a cough? That what all the neck-stuff's about? I tell you, some of the witches of my folk's old clan back on Dathomir used to have some exactly like that, not that I really payed many of them that much attention...probably all careening round the galaxy in bits now anyway..."
The two walked towards the doors, the humans' arm draped casually around his flinching companion's neck. The small bundle of robes followed at a discreet distance.


