"G0-T0 was more of a hero than Luke Skywalker ever was."
The challenge was met by a chorus of guffaws and derisive snorts. The small crowd of various sentients rounded on the human for his brash statement. The conversation in the cantina turned to more of a criss-cross of shouts, and somehow the human with the dark eyes and ruffled hair managed to keep the attention of the group for another hour or so whilst he fought his case. Something about the realism of using below-board methods to keep an above-board organisation running and able to help people, in comparison to a whiny teenager whom only defeated two of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy with his ability to plead.
Still, as time passed in the cantina, glasses were emptied and shady characters came and went, and slowly one by one, the human's attentive crowd sidled out onto the streets of Mos Eisley.
As the twin suns began to sink down beneath the sandy horizon of Tatooine, garish neon lighting flickered to life at the bar and Beske found himself alone.
"Again." Thought the human to himself. Despite all his best efforts to get off this rock, Beske yet again found himself back in the cantina, staring down the remaining dregs of his Lomin ale. Sighing out loud, he reached for his ornate tin box, and popping it gently open, began to roll himself another cigarro from his blend of havao tabac. Dotted in amongst the dark crumbly leaves were tiny yellowish particles, a pinch of the carsunum Beske had...attained.
Lighting the cigarro, Beske leaned back, stretching his aching arms and shoulders, and blew smoke rings at the ceiling.
The challenge was met by a chorus of guffaws and derisive snorts. The small crowd of various sentients rounded on the human for his brash statement. The conversation in the cantina turned to more of a criss-cross of shouts, and somehow the human with the dark eyes and ruffled hair managed to keep the attention of the group for another hour or so whilst he fought his case. Something about the realism of using below-board methods to keep an above-board organisation running and able to help people, in comparison to a whiny teenager whom only defeated two of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy with his ability to plead.
Still, as time passed in the cantina, glasses were emptied and shady characters came and went, and slowly one by one, the human's attentive crowd sidled out onto the streets of Mos Eisley.
As the twin suns began to sink down beneath the sandy horizon of Tatooine, garish neon lighting flickered to life at the bar and Beske found himself alone.
"Again." Thought the human to himself. Despite all his best efforts to get off this rock, Beske yet again found himself back in the cantina, staring down the remaining dregs of his Lomin ale. Sighing out loud, he reached for his ornate tin box, and popping it gently open, began to roll himself another cigarro from his blend of havao tabac. Dotted in amongst the dark crumbly leaves were tiny yellowish particles, a pinch of the carsunum Beske had...attained.
Lighting the cigarro, Beske leaned back, stretching his aching arms and shoulders, and blew smoke rings at the ceiling.
