Hiatus

[Stephen]

Janus sat quietly at the edge of the bar, thumbing the cred stick in his pants pocket. The room teamed with varied life, talking in crowds, or sitting and eating at tables. The pretty faces and tidy aesthetic made him feel shabby. He eyed the ragged hem of his tan trousers a moment before sitting up straight and smoothing his brown vest to his white shirt. He glanced at his data pad next to him at the bar. No messages. Somewhere in his dock, freight was already being loaded on to his ship. BlasTech sometimes employed Janus to move smaller orders to smaller markets. It was a good run to pay some bills. It was great run to look more legitimate. He his hands quickly flattened his hair and he ordered another drink.



Janus thumbed through the manfest slowly, reading to pass time. Various makes of blaster scrolled past his vision their quanties updating live as he read. The bulk of the order, small as it was for BlasTech, would all but fill his bay to capacity. He swapped over to a fuel spreadsheet and marked projections to be updated. His drink was sweet and smooth. Something native to naboo according to the label. It disappeared in short sips before resting empty on the bar, the only drink not on a coaster



Janus worked quietly for half an hour before his left arm became stiff. He grabbed it, rubbing his forarm with his thumb. Barely two weeks ago a hole was burned clear through his arm. Now all that remained was a pale white scar, like a barely visible eye staring at him. His read rolled lazily on his shoulders as he pushed his arms upward in a V for a moment, enjoying the tense pain of streching. He ordered another drink and enjoyed the contemplative quiet for as long as it would last.

[sparrow]

"Janus Yarloc, I presume?" came a voice from behind.

The voice originated from a young woman. She was tall, as tall as most men, and wore a dark blue dress that reached down to her ankles, with bits of silver embroidery forming a floral pattern around the high collar. A large duffel bag hung from her right shoulder, which she held steady with a glove-covered hand. On her head was a wide-brimmed hat, with a hanging veil that obscured her face from view.

"I'm looking for quick passage to the Inner Rim, and I've been informed of your efficiency and discretion when it comes to these matters. I can pay well."

[Mara]

[...from Why Is the Rum Gone?]

What he had decided to refer to himself in private as 'the incident' had been weeks ago now. The night everything had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and his whole life had been turned on end. So bad, he had just wanted to die to put the misery at bay. But luckily due to the circumstances of 'the incident,' he remembered little of it in detail. And what he did recall was fragmented, more so by the steady flow of alcohol he had ingested in the time since. It had taken a while to recover from it, but he was finally feeling like himself, back to normal. Back to how everything was before... 'the incident.'

He was sitting in a cantina on Druckenwell, having taken a couple of shady businessmen down to the planet earlier that day. And it had felt good to fly again. Not merely for the credits--which were entirely  necessary for his drinking habit--but because there was nothing in the galaxy quite like it. The euphoria of breakneck speeds, the quiet beauty of lightspeed out his viewscreen, the feel of the yoke between his fingers. Pak Har'endanno was a pilot-for-hire, willing and able to shuttle anyone anywhere, for a reasonable price.

The Balosar was nursing a Corellian ale; he had only just arrived, and it was too early yet for him to get into the hard stuff. Though that was as surely in his future as much as a wampa in an ice cave. As well, he was seated at the bar. Pak liked the illusion of just stopping for a few quick drinks even though he planned on staying well into the night, only leaving when the place shut down and forced him out. He had a lot of catching up to do from the 'incident.' And he would do everything in his power for that to never ever ever happen to him again.  His precious alcohol would never leave his sight again.

As he drank, he found himself partaking in the time-honored tradition of being-watching, aided by his antennapalps. He glanced over to his side, saw a human sitting a couple seats down from him looking at a datapad. To his other side were a couple of Muun were whispering quietly together. Pak finished off the ale and while waiting for the bartender to fill him back up, he ran his light blue eyes over the rest of the room. Already the place was bustling with a variety of beings and the hum of many overlapping conversations. Such a pleasant sound to his ears and no negative emotions influencing his 'palps. Home sweet home.

His new drink was laid on the counter behind him with a small thud, and Pak spun his stool around. He pulled out a few credit chits and plunked them down with a quick "Thanks" for the Cathar bartender. The large feline-like humanoid nodded at the Balosar before moving down to attend to his other customers. Pak grabbed the glass and sucked down half of the amber liquid before sighing in delight and setting the vessel back on the bar. Pak had a feeling this might be a very enjoyable evening, indeed... and he deserved it, after all.

A voice made him turn his head to his right again, where the man with the datapad was sitting. But it has been a feminine tone that had made him look, not something more masculine that would have originated from the patron himself. Though there was quite a lot of beings within the cantina, it was not at full capacity yet, and Pak could pick up the tidbits of her conversation. If he had been interested in that kind of thing, he would have found the tall woman enchantingly beautiful. As it was, he just felt an idle curiosity for this mysterious female.

Pak especially perked up when he noticed she was looking for passage, a ship to hire. Normally he wouldn't encroach on another man's potential job, but he was just in too good a mood not to joke around a bit. "If this guy won't, I'll available, ma'am," he called out, winking over at the two of them, lifting up his glass of ale. His antennapalps didn't discern anything that would bring up any warning klaxons in his head, so he felt comfortable enough believing for the moment that neither of them would cause him harm for interrupting. "My ship is fast, and I'm very discreet." He grinned widely. Nothing like a little friendly competition to spice up his night. And if he got some more credits to put towards his booze, the better for it.

[Danee]

Druckenwell, a Jedi was supposed to be hiding here, either in Exile or just Desertion, she hadn't been fully briefed about the Jedi other than that he spent a lot of time in a bar. Litin had been spending most of the day preparing for the encounter with the Jedi. Wearing her regular pitch black robe she made her way towards the bar where the Jedi was rumored to be located, walking through the streets not many payed much attention to her, some turned to look at her but most just ignored her. She knew this was a dangerous planet for her, Republic controlled planets always involved a greater risk than normal and if she didn't make it to the Jedi before a force sensitive felt her presence, things could go bad quickly.

As she got close enough to see the bar she could make out the faint presence of a Force Sensitive followed by another one straight afterwards, there wasn't supposed to be another Jedi, had the contractor lied to her? Nevertheless she moved closer, no other sensitives in the area at least. Walking into the bar she looked around and tried to see if she could see the Jedi she was hired to get rid off.

She could do it the easy way and start killing people one by one, but that'd probably get her killed before she could kill the Jedi. The Assassin kept to herself for now, waiting, maybe the Jedi and his friend would do something before her.

[Stephen]

Janus grabbed his datapad off the counter and spun on his bar stool toward the woman in the veil behind him. He thumbed through tabs, quickly finding the program he needed. The datapad hummed a moment in his hands. “Actually, my name is Ethan Atmos.” Janus lied blandly, “I'm afraid you've got the wrong person.” He smiled a fake cheery smile. “But if someone comes by looking for you, I'll be sure to let them know.”

Janus pressed his datapad into his shirt as it spit a plastic card into his chest from a slot on the back. He slipped it under his vest and let it drop to the ground. Janus picked it up quickly, glancing at it to make sure it printed correctly. An antiseptic plastic smell clung to the still warm id card. “I believe you dropped this Ma'am.” Janus said, placing the card on the bar. A locker key, labeled dock 834 locker 6, slid from his sleeve and landed silently on the table next to it.

Janus stood up, rubbing his neck with his right hand. He blinked an overlong second and said “Actually, I think I'm going to go. I've got a flight in 3 hours to catch.” He motioned to the barkeep, then left his fee on the table next to his half finished drink. His head cocked a moment to the side as he listened to the other captains pitch. He smiled, his eyes closed a moment, “Seems like he's got you covered then ma'am.” Janus reached back into his pocket and placed another mark on the bar, “Another drink to our young entrepreneur here.” He smiled again toward the Balosar before turning back toward the woman in the veil and staring intently at where he guessed her eyes to be, “As I said, 3 hours.”

Janus gathered his things quickly, downed his drink and made for the door.

[sparrow]

"My mistake, Mr. Atmos," the woman said, as she nodded politely towards the man. "I thought you looked familiar."

"Wait, I di- Oh, thank you." She picked up the card and key from the table, examining them briefly before slipping them into a small pouch that hung from her belt. "I appreciate your time. I wouldn't want to keep you from your flight."

As the man who called himself Ethan Atmos stood up to leave, her eyes scanned the room, her gaze seeming to pause momentarily on a dark-robed figure near the edge of the bar before continuing onwards. The faint outline of a frown appeared on her face, disappearing quickly again as if nothing had happened.

She made her way down the counter to the Balosar. "I just remembered I have an errand to run before I can make my departure," she said in an apologetic tone. "If you give me your card, I will call you should I still require your services at that time." Pressing a coin onto the counter in front of him with a gloved hand, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder as she turned towards the door. "I really must be going now."

[Mara]

A reformed pickpocket, it had been easy for Pak's sharp eyes to catch the sleight of hand the man had attempted with the veiled woman as he idly listened in on their conversation, waiting to jump in with his half-serious offer. Pretending she had dropped something, alerting her to it. Her being confused before retrieving the card and thanking him. The Balosar wanted to shake his head in disbelief; he had seen a lot in his years, but this had to be one of the worst transactions. So transparent. Amateur, he thought.

But that was none of his concern. He was just here to drink, not critique the methods of criminals. Pak watched as the man abruptly took his leave of the woman; transfer finished, he apparently was in a hurry to get out of the cantina. But not before he did the greatest thing ever: buying the Balosar another drink. "Thanks, friend." Grinning, he lifted his glass of ale in a salute. Too bad the guy was on his way out. Perhaps he could have gotten a few more liquid gifts out of him. Oh well. One was good enough. Not to mention the possibility of the woman as a new hire.

In fact, she was coming towards him now. Pak put on his most friendly smile. Which wilted a bit once she explained her situation, unsure whether she would need his ship and services, after all. But then he shrugged it off; at least it wouldn't cut into his drinking time.  "Not a problem, ma'am. I ain't got a card... but you can find me here all night. Not going anywhere." He winked, his gaze following her as she headed towards the exit, almost right behind the man she had 'accidentally' met with. Once again, he shook his head. Could they have been any more obvious about it?

He put it all out of his mind, figuring he'd never see them again. Just like ships passing in the night. It was time to get back to his own business. Pak lifted the glass to his mouth and finished it down; it had to be empty if he was going to get the drink paid for by the strange but accommodating gentleman. The Cathar bartender, however, had been way ahead of him. By the time Pak had turned his attention back to the bar and his drinking, another glass of ale was waiting there for him.  Appreciating a good barkeep, the Balosar pulled out a few more credits and slide them across, with a nod of his compliments. Reaching for the free ale, he smiled to himself. This was the life...