So, A Rabbit Walked Into A Bar.... [Latus; OPEN]

[Rabbit]

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It didn't take Rowin long to decide that the current situation he found himself in really was like the beginning of a very, very bad bar joke. In fact, he couldn't think of any situation he had ever found himself in before, that could possibly top the sheer irony of the moment.

He was, quite possibly, the most Mandalorian-loathing Lepi in the galaxy. He was in private cohorts with the Republic war-effort. And he had built a reputation that preceeded him by several hundred par secs -

The reputation of a Mando-hating, gun-slinging, justice-bringing space rabbit vigilante.

And he was stuck on Ordo. In the heart of Mandalorian space. In a Mandalorian bar. Surrounded by Mandalorians. On the edge of a rumored Mandalorian invasion.

One would be wise in asking why a Lepi with a reputation such as his was in such a precarious position. Answer: his ship had a busted hyperdrive.

And the bounty he'd hunted into Ordo's planetary space had disappeared. Poof! Like credits in a pazaak game.

There was only one obvious solution to his woes - a few drinks at the most reputable establishment he could find.

And a few judicious prayers to whatever the frak the Force was, that he kept his head down, his nose clean, and his hide intact.

Unfortunately, Rowin had been given a crap shoot at birth. He was a six-something-foot-tall, biped, pie-bald, lop-eared rabbit, with a fondness for a good bantha steak, a loathing for anything green and leafy, and an appreciation for well-brewed beer.

The Mandos made good beer. He had to give them that.

Unfortunately, hunkering belly-up to a Mandalorian bar in his "appropriated" gold-and-blue Mando armor didn't help him blend in. Beer in paw and head down, not withstanding.

He even tried mentally chanting: "I'm not here. I'm not here. I'm one with the bar." Unfortunately, the Force was not with him that day. It was apparently taking a vacation. On the other side of Republic space.

[Latus]

It didn't take Itani long to decide that the current situation he found himself in really was like the line-up for the best punch-line he'd ever made. In fact, he couldn't think of any situation he had ever found himself in before, that could possibly top the serendipity of the moment.

((His idea, not mine -_-)

The lanky Mandalorian was sky-high on life and he could think of very little in life that could bring him down now. Only a few ticks on Ordo and he had bagged a bounty; the mark had literally bumped into him outside some seedy hangout. The scar gave the target away as did the massive bounty that supported facial memory retention. The assassin, never willing to let such a diem go un-carpe'd, had bagged the target and collected the reward in a matter of hours.

First mark after "retiring"from the military had practically fallen into his lap; he'd not lost his touch after all. Bounty work felt strange but he'd had his fill of killing for a while.

Enough of this reflective stuff, I need a drink.

He was quite the sight on a Mandalorian controlled world. In fact, it was hard to even tell he was a Mando at all. Rather than the bulky armor he wore a skin-tight body-suit of fiber weave armor that was barely visible beneath the standard tunic, trouser combination. His helmet and gloves were stashed in various pockets and were unneeded for his work... but they did make him look intimidating when he needed it.

Right... blend. Don't draw attention to yourself. No need to get wor-

He stepped into the pub with all the flourish of a mandalorian, slammed door, broad stance and all. He imagined it looked unusual on someone with his build.

Smooth...

The gazes he drew were mostly ones of disdain, skepticism. "What is that doing in here" and so on. A gargantuan smile on his face Itani thanked his luck that he had just stepped into what seemed to be the largest mando-pub on the planet looking like a civilian, an aruetii. This didn't diminish his smile in the least. Within moments he had slid up to the bar between stools and some slouching character in blue and yellow armor. Motioning to the bartender Itani cocked his head when the man ignored him, going back to the other patrons.

Shrugging Itani slid onto the nearest stool, he didn't mind waiting. Glancing back to the man in the brightly colored armor he slowly noticed that there was something odd about the character.

Fur... ears... jumpin' Jedi, its a flippin' Lepi!

His eyes immediately shot forward, hand flying to his mouth to stop himself from laughing, stifling it to a snicker. The Lepi, a floppy eared creature covered in fine fur was nothing short of hysterical to Itani, more so than those togorians or a massive, pissed off Mando verd. Finally, and with many more calling motions to the bartender he finally got some service, the heavy-set human stepping over.

What do you want?

A double of Hedrett oil-rig whiskey for myself and give fluffy to my left a refill and his next on me for a wonderful laugh. He spoke loud enough for the lepi to hear. Something as cure and lovable looking as that being shouldn't seem so down.

He chuckled. The bartender shook his head.

[Rabbit]

Rowin was at least determined to stay aware enough of his surroundings to notice the dramatic entrance that turned far more heads than his. The figure was tall - Rowin assumed human - and rather arrogant, if the swagger was anything to go by. Though, from Rowin had observed, "arrogant", "cocky" and "ego" were words that all applied to any given Mandalorian male.

The newcomer wasn't dressed like a Mandalorian - at least, he wasn't parading around in armor. But, Rowin had learned long ago not to take appearances into account. The truth lay in the way a sentient moved. In the way they walked. In the myriad of minor details that existed beyond the realm of the obvious.

Rowin huffed silently to himself and turned away from the swaggering form that was making his way to the bar. At this particular point in time, Mandalorians weren't worth his notice. The less he noticed, the safer e was - or, so he told himself.

I am one with the bar.... he repeated to himself for the upteenth time, as he took a swig of what passed as the local ale.

It was a strange place for the Lepi bounty hunter to be - he couldn't remember a time when he didn't feel at home in a bar. Usually, he was most like the bar's newcomer - full of swagger, ego, and a general aura of bad-assery. But, here? On Ordo? In the heart of Mandalorian space?

Rowin was suddenly beginning to rue the bounty he had taken on behalf of the Republic. No amount of credits, personal honor, or galactic justice was worth this sort of personal agony.

It was hard to fight what he was, at the most basic, primal level. As he hunched over the bar and sipped his beer, Rowin could only think back on his lessons as a young Lepi kit - lessons about Lepi history and his race's humble beginnings as the galactic meal ticket. No one in their right mind (he hoped) would eat a sentient Lepi. But, once upon a time, they weren't so sentient. And they were a lot smaller. And meeker. And, apparently, plumper.

Which equaled "tasty". To Togorians. Humans. Hutts. Heck, even the primal Rodian ancestors had found a snack or two among the Lepi population, at one time or another.

Rowin eyed the Mandalorians around him suspiciously. He'd read up on his Mando history - after all, one could not be considered victorious, if he did not know his enemy. At a basic, primal level, he had to find the Mandalorian culture highly suspicious at best.

Even the Taung had a taste for Lepi. And they were the proginators of a whole culture that - as far as Rowin was concerned - was a sore in the galactic backside. Right behind the Hutts, of course.

For all he knew, Mandalorians still held rabbit roasts. And danced naked around the fires to obscene pagan rites to blood-thirsty war gods that could only be appeased by the flesh of his personal ancestors.

It was hard being a bunny.

Rowin stared thoughtfully into the remaining dredges of his beer and completely missed the sauntering male who had decided to make his perch on the stool next to him. He was so busy waging a personal internal war against his primal "prey animal" instinct, that he almost missed what was said.

Almost.

A double of Hedrett oil-rig whiskey for myself and give fluffy to my left a refill and his next on me for a wonderful laugh. Something as cute and lovable looking as that being shouldn't seem so down.

Rowin blinked. Once. Twice. Just long enough to process "fluffy". He even double-checked and glanced around him.

He was definitely the only patron with fur. And he was pretty sure that "fluffy", "cute" and "loveable" didn't apply to any of the burly, broad-shouldered, armor-clad Mandos around him.

And, just like that, Rowin's primal "prey instinct" was gone. And in it's place was an instinct of another sort all together - the instinct that demanded that he stand up for all Lepis everywhere. It was a matter of cultural honor.

"Fluffy" just didn't fly.

Rowin, however, was just enough in a "mood" to keep silent for once. Usually, he would have started a vehement shouting match, first. Just to warm himself up. This time, however, he decided to cut straight to the chase.

Without skipping a beat, he turned around and grabbed the bottle of the patron sitting next to him. And without a single thought to any sort of consequence, he swiveled back around on his stool....

And hit the offending male.

Square.

On.

The.

Head.

[Latus]

The bartender worked fast, Itani had to admit. In a moment he had the tall shot glass in his hand, the brown liquid resting contentedly nearly a centimeter below the lip. He hadn't thought much about his comment to the Lepi, impetuousness being the attitude of the year for him. Lia, Mal, Ba'buir, Daryn... each of them reacted differently, nothing he couldn't handle. Drink in hand he turned back toward the rabbit-humanoid, raising the shot to drink his health. Eyes met the form of the being, the gold and blue armor, the fur color; there was a smile on Itani's face...

You really need to work on that brain to mouth thing.

His body reacted to the hostile movement before his mind did. It arced out from the Lepi in a broad swing, leaving Itani a mere instant to react. He did, and in the only way he knew how. His eyes widened in surprise.

Oh? You think?

I do.

The strike connected with a crack, the lank human spinning with the strike as his form practically rocketted from the higher chair to sprawl onto the floor, hand over the area where the bottle had connected. The sound of the strike left the bar silent, the bartender suddenly diverting all of his attention and leaning over the bar to look at the motionless form of Itani sprawled on the floor, a pool of darkness spreading from his head. A few of the other patrons stood up and looked at the motionless form, one of the bouncers picking his way through the sudden crowd that had appeared from the action.

"Frak... what did he say?" The bartender asked, turning to the Lepi patron. "Sheesh... ah suppose thats what he gets from insultin' folk. Oh well, no big loss; it'll learn someone like him tha' he's not really meant for a rough establishment."

Someone like what?

"Ah-..." The bartender looked over and practically jumped as Itani slid himself back onto the stool, dark liquid covering the right side of his face. For several tense and awkward hreatbeats the bartender was frozen solid, speechless as he looked over the partially damp man who was laying on the floor a moment ago.

Another double, my friend. He said, placing the neatly shattered shot glass back onto the counter. Make sure you top it off this time.

The tender nodded and rushed off to the other end of the bar to fill the order. Reaching up gingerly Itani ran a finger through the dark liquid on his face, a small stain spreading slowly through the tunic on his chest. Scoffing he brought his fingers to his mouth and quickly sucked the pungent liquor off his fingers. Licking and smacking his lips obscenely and running his tongue over the surfaces it could reach he smiled again. The bartender returned a moment ago with the new shot, filled to the brim this time.

Good stuff.

Repeating the same motion as he had attempted before he turned to the Lepi seated beside him and raised the shot.

Koyahchi!

He said, the call of cheers horribly butchered. Tilting the glass back he drained it and gently sat it down upturned on the bar. For a moment Itani simply looked and appraised the rabbit. It was strange to look at someone who had just tried to bash your head in through a lens that wasn't clouded by hate... but he still could only smirk and chuckle, which he did.

Helluva swing. Next time try it when your target doesn't have something in his hands. He laughed, motioning at the neatly broken remains of the shot glass. Bringing a hand up to his face he ringed the circular bruise that was slowly forming on the side of his head.

Ooh... plenty of power behind it, though. Nice to meet you, too.

He smiled, nodding as the bartender returned with a new glass of beer for the lepi. Despite his relaxed demeanor, Itani was on edge. He would be ready for another swing.

((This is how I interpreted "Square on the head" so feel free to correct if I got it wrong.))

[Apillis]

A war was brewing these days, and so often does that mean business is booming for smuggling. The garden variety militias, vigilantes, posses, bounty hunters, etc all had some thing to make or gain from smuggled 'goods'. While Averia loathed both the Republic and the Mandalorians equally, there are always those who oppose both sides of the conflict -- even on Ordo, and it is those people that Averia supplies -- free of charge even. After all, Averia will aid anyone who is willing to undermine the tyranny of the Sith, Republic, and Mandalorians -- not just pirates, and in her mind the difference between a pirate and Mandalorian is one is simply trained better than the other. Outside of that one is as despicable as the other, she sees no value in splitting hairs over which despot is better than the next. The lesser of two evils is still evil, after all.

At the far edge of the establishment's bar is where Averia stood, primarily to be out of the way and keep a low profile. She had already met her contact earlier and the deal had already been done, and the smuggled goods delivered into their hands. At this point it was merely downtime until she chose to head back out into the void.

But it was only a moment later when a giant space bunny-man came walking into the establishment. A Lepi. Averia had traveled from one end to the galaxy to the next numerous times throughout her life, and explored and seen things out in the void that most never even dreamed of, more so during her time as a Republic Navy exploration pilot for charting new Hyperspace routes. She had seen Lepi on a few occasions during all of those travels, and each time she had seen one -- a thought had always crossed her mind... Do they truly taste as good open-flame cooked as the rumors say? The Warden never actually had Lepi before, nor any sentient creature truthfully, but... still... one wonders sometimes...

Behind a placid gaze her eyes washed over the patrons of the bar as she leaned her back against it, and one of its Mandalorian patrons proved to be yet another disrespectful loudmouth as so many prove to be -- in this regard to the Lepi. While outwardly Averia showed no reaction to the Lepi's reaction to the insult, truly she was immensely amused by the Lepi cracking the Mandalorian over the skull. Naturally, Averia so no reason to interrupt this discourse as she sipped at her glass of ice water as she kept to herself.

Albeit, seeing the Mandalorian rise back up to his feet again, Averia did feel a touch disappointed by that. Then again, in her experience Mandalorians seldom ever know when it is best to just stay down and stay out of another's way. All she could do is hope that the Lepi gave him another crack, and hope no other Mandalorian patrons choose to intercede.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Okay, so I wasn’t going to enter this and let Lat/Rabbit have their fun, but someone else has jumped in now, so I don’t feel obliged to keep Lia out of the fun (as perhaps I should)…especially not after the escapades with the three in IM earlier >_> …*grin* Also, it’ll save Lat the pressure I’d feel the need to put on him to join the Rabble Rouser thread, and get me into a thread with Rowin (which I’ve been itching to do). Three birds, one stone, no?

Side note: for easy reference, Lia will be behind(ish) Itani the whole time (except for maybe when she first enters depending where the door is) so as not to interrupt the play. She's looking to see what goes on, not butt in...yet.

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It had to have been, what? Her third day on Ordo? Fourth? Either way it hadn’t been long, and she hadn’t gotten far. At least she’d met her contact…not that she’d know to expect him. Frelling Bane, leaving out important details like that. She never thought he would, but sure enough. Must have been a lot on his mind, though, with the reclamation efforts moving along at ‘top speeds’. Ah well, at least she’d garnered some help from a few people in the last few days and had picked out some potential starting points. This wasn’t easy, and she felt alone…even with the assistance she’d gotten from others.

I need a drink.

Turning away from her view over the city on the roof of one of the buildings, her thinking spot as of late, the auburn flickered down the way she’d come. Perhaps she’d visit her new haunt and see who was about tonight. With the way she moved, it didn’t take long for the woman to ghost her way down the fire escape, ceramic and metal beads clicking softly together as she moved like a shadow through the night. She may as well have been one, anyway. Mind buzzing annoyingly as she beat the pavement, Italia wished Daryn hadn’t stubbornly decided to take whatever job it was he was doing. Blasted flyboy. Now more than ever she could have used him to bounce ideas off of. He’s supposed ta be the genius, no’ me. He knew I’d need help here, but noooo. Huffing a sigh, she worked her way through the thinning night time crowds of people on their way home from running after-work errands, or actually just leaving work.

Turning down another street, she wondered how her buir was doing…or ba’buir for that fact. The last time she’d spoken to him he’d not only been angry with her for leaving but…She sighed at the rest of her thought, not daring to finish it completely. He IS 400 years old…he’s not immortal an’ the mind has ta go sometime. Hells, that’s all he’s got left of himself an’…ugh! Okay, thinking like that really wasn’t gonna help. Still, she wished he was here…and Itani? Where was he? Again he’d vanished off the radar, dini’la vod’ika of hers. Not like she knew where her other brothers were either, but she’d always been closest to her ‘Butterbrain’ vod’ika. Shaking her head, she focused on where she was walking instead of just letting her feet guide her.

She paused.

Wait…I’m here already?

Shrugging, she didn’t bother to ponder it, glaring at the roughs…the real aruetii…she shifted the leather serape that draped over her form…and giving them a clear view of that blaster pistol on her hip. As if the old Czerka slug rifle slung across her back didn’t give them enough of a hint. They seemed to be learning that she wasn’t someone they wanted to mess with after the last time one of them nearly got shot point blank with it. The ones who had started to come her direction stopped and, without another look to them, she slipped inside…no flourish, no gusto, no slinking, no attempting to hide…she just, entered.

There wasn’t much about Lia that screamed Mandalorian; no armor to speak of (save her blue gauntlets trimmed with black and a pair of shin guards of the same) and a light-armor vest, which was covered easily by her dark brown leather serape...in fact, she looked like pretty much any bounty hunter or mercenary one might find at any given time, on any given day, lurking around any given planet. There wasn’t a lick of ‘military’ around her (she didn’t grow up that way and she sure as hell hadn’t joined that way), there wasn’t even a really a strong “Yes, I am mando, thank you very much” look about her. Certainly she had the fire of mandokar burning behind her emerald eyes, and flickering in the shaggy layers of her lengthening auburn hair (which she had firmly decided she should have kept pixy-cut length), and there were the gauntlets and shin guards to give a potential hint, of course, but even they looked so odd compared to modern mando armor that it couldn’t easily be defined as such.

Anyway…

That agile and petite form slipped through the after-work crowd toward the bar, her eyes sweeping the area. The atmosphere felt awful agitated in there, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it at the moment. At least there weren’t weapons drawn or an all out brawl going…Itani?! Oh she knew that lanky, frustrating, sarcastic, impetuous, lazy, prank-pulling, assassinating, slippery, insane, skinny, huggable, loveable, crazy…

”…Butterbrain…”

Pausing in her walk toward him from behind, she muttered the last word to herself from a safe enough distance as she folded her arms below that travel worn serape and narrowed her eyes at him before they flickered past her vod’ika to the scene around him. The broken shot glass and the fresh one, the damp floor, the stain spreading across his tunic as…something…dripped along part of his head, the rather grumpy looking armored…

Is…is that a…a Lepi? In armor? What the frell?

Only a moment the more feminine part of her subconscious squeed something akin to “Ohmahgawd it’s so CUTE”….but she stubbornly ignored that idiocy as she tried to figure just what sort of trouble her vod’ika had gotten himself into this time. With a sigh, she pulled her rifle off (careful to keep the long leather tassels threaded with thick beads, claws, teeth, shells and other souvenirs from her exploits from making too much noise and giving her away), grabbed a chair from the nearest empty table and plopped down onto it.

“Helluva swing. Next time try it when your target doesn’t have something in his hands. Ooh…plenty of power behind it, though. Nice to meet you, too.”

Inwardly she groaned, yet was unable to keep herself from smirking just barely. Okay, so for now she’d just sit back and watch and see where this went and just what Butterbrain was up to. If nothing happened she’d go say hello…if he got into trouble…she’d ‘go say hello’. Of course, she had all faith that Itani could handle himself, but she was his oldest sibling, so naturally she had to provide backup for him if he needed it. Or even if he didn’t think he needed but she thought he needed it. As the barkeep noticed her she kept one hand firmly planted on the barrel of her rifle (the butt of it resting on the ground) gave a short, two fingered, salute in return to his nod and a server droid was sent trundling over to take her drink order.

[Rabbit]

[I just want everyone to know, that apparently Rowin's muse doesn't want to work, unless it is well....er..."quenched". Consider that your warning. LOL]

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The Mando - or, whatever he was - went down in a rather beautiful heap. Rowin was actually quite pleased. Nary a peep or response of indignation.

However, Rowin knew enough about Mandalorians by this point, to know that they never did what any rational sentient wanted them to. They didn't live like the rest of the galaxy. They didn't wage war like the rest of the galaxy. They didn't play fair. And they didn't die when it was convenient, either.

Not that Rowin was expecting that to be a killing blow or even close to it. But, he had been half-hoping for a few minutes of peace, while his dubious companion lay comatose on the floor.

No such luck.

Go figure, the Lepi thought sourly as he nursed his beer and watched with whiskery disapproval as the Mando hauled himself back to his feet.

And back onto the very barstool he'd been on before. Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Rowin.

If Rowin had been anything else - a Shistavanen, a Togorian, heck, even a Togruta - he'd have snarled. But, since Lepi weren't exactly known for growling, he settled for a dissatisfied grunt and a flattening of his whiskers up against his cheeks.

Rowin watched the man carefully out of the corner of his eye. Not only had the Mando clambered back to his feet - drenched in alcohol but otherwise fine - but the man hadn't tried to reciprocate the favor.

Instead, he ordered another shot and raised it toward the currently-undercover vigilante with dubious enthusiasm.

Koyahchi!

Rowin winced. He had studied his enemy closely in the many years he'd spent waging a personal vendetta against the Mandalorian who killed his uncle. He knew Mando'a - though that wasn't a fact he broadcasted about.

"I think you mean 'K'oyacyi!'" Rowin muttered around the rim of his glass; he paused for a moment and then added with an appropriate sense of sarcasm - "Vod."

He immediately had the overwhelming desire to wash his mouth out with soap. But since he seriously doubted that Mandalorians even knew what the stuff was, Rowin satisfied himself with a healthy swig of his ale. It at least helped in masking the nasty taste he'd suddenly developed in the back of his tongue.

If the Corellians really do have nine hells, I think I found one, he couldn't help but think, as he watched the Mando eying him thoughtfully.

Helluva swing. Next time try it when your target doesn't have something in his hands. Ooh... plenty of power behind it, though. Nice to meet you, too.

Rowin just grunted. He did not want to engage this man in conversation. Nor, anyone else on this thrice-damned planet. All he wanted was a moment of peace, something cool to drink, and a mechanic who didn't ask too many questions.

Thinking of a mechanic.... Rowin eyed the man a little more closely. He didn't want to start a conversation, but now that he'd broken a bottle of the Mando's head - and the Mando hadn't swung back - maybe it was safe to ask about the local market.

"Don't get too cozy," Rowin's voice was a low, warning growl and he tightened his grip on his drink; he tapped his claws gently on the glass. "But, try to be useful for a minute. Know of any decent mechanics around here?"

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[Hey ladies! Not trying to ignore you or anything. But, both of your characters are kinda' hiding in the background for the moment, so I didn't know if Rowin should acknowledge them or not? I figured that he'd probably be too focused on Itani to notice anything else at the moment...]

[Latus]

Itani was torn about what to think when the second strike didn't appear. Rather than send another punch, he thought, the rabbit-man had only looked hurt and turned back to his drink. There was a distinct glare on the rabbit's face as Itani retook his seat but nothing followed. The tone of his next comment was also a mix of surprising and unsurprising.

"I think you mean 'K'oyacyi!' Vod."

Was that sarcasm?

No thanks, I don't touch the stuff. Heard it gave you an undeserved sense of self-importance.

The deception was intentional and calculated. Itani had initially been to blend with the comings and goings of the laymen outside, to get closer to his target without raising suspicion but in here it was just for fun, to have a laugh. Yes Itani was a Mandalorian but, in his own words, I am probably the least mando mando you'll ever meet. This one... something wasn't koshur, he didn't react as he should have. The crack upside the skull was expected but from there he didn't know for sure. The rabbit had managed to pique his curiosity and in a way that was more dangerous than running afoul of one of his pranks.

More investigation is called for.

His head cocked over to say something to the Lepi where he sat but Itani paused, returned his attention back to the bar, suddenly tempted to get hold of that damned tender again.

Where to start with this one? Hmm...

You could start by not insulting him, butterbrain.

Ah, but where's the fun in that... and only my sister calls me that, knock it off.

Glancing back to the rabbit Itani found his own sharp eyes connecting with the others. His reaction maybe should have been to look back toward the bar but for a moment he found himself matching the gaze of the rabbit, this curiosity still brimming with a desire, a longing to know what it was that made this rabbit tick.

I could find out the easy way...

Nah, far too messy.

Too true, too true.

"Don't get too cozy," The man's voice was low... almost too low for Itani to hear without leaning closer. The assassin's eyes narrowed and he turned his "good" ear for better volume. The sound of fingernails on glass also met them "But, try to be useful for a minute. Know of any decent mechanics around here?"

Itani blinked twice as gears clicked together in his mind. Quiet, nervously tapping his glass, not willing to go overly far with a disturbance, looking for a mechanic, and a little too obvious in his sarcasm. The feeling of a disturbance welled up once more. Nodding at the rabbit he glanced back over to the bar and into the darker corners where anyone unsavory might be sitting. Clearing his throat he leaned subtly onto the counter, getting a tiny amount closer to this man and lowering his voice so that only his new friend could hear.

You have the right armor, you are no slouch in the physique department, yet you hesitate to throw a second punch. You are far too nervous to be a local and your accent is a little muddled, my friend. Is that the ale talking or are you as far out of your element as you seem?

Itani paused as the bartender walked by, picking up the empty shot glass and motioning an offer of a new one. The assassin nodded and turned back to the lepi as the tender hustled away down the bar.

Useful is certainly a matter of perspective, fuzzball, and I may just be your lucky rab... uh, charm. However, a quick question of my own, repayment for the bruise; why do you need a mechanic and why ask me instead of one of these other fine chaps?

When the bartender returned with the shot Itani straightened back in his seat, quickly sucking down the unneeded alcohol. If his hunch was right this man was more than just out of his element. He spun in his stool, stopping until he faced the man straight on. Whatever had this man so riled was dangerous, so Itani figured he may as well set up a smokescreen; he extended his hand.

Chukke Findley, its nice to meet you, Mr...

((Appendix:
Italics: Brain 1
Bold: Brain 2))

[Apillis]

((Sorry for taking forever to post, work and DA2 addiction sucked up a lot of my time. >.> And no worries, Rabbit, Averia was chillin' the background, didn't expect her to be noticed or acknowledged. XD))

To say the least, Averia was a might disappointed that the giant rabbit did not take another crack at the Mandalorian. Their loud bravado had always been something that had gotten under her skin, and to see a Mandalorian get knocked on their backside is always a pleasure, especially if done repeatedly. But alas, like all things it was not last as the rabbit-man chose not to crack another bottle over the Mandalorian's head. The results of the rabbit-man not following up with yet another smack were what Averia expected, more bluster from the Mandalorian.

With the situation seeming to defuse there was not really anything else to pay much attention or heed to, so she turned back to nursing her simple glass of ice water. Deserts suck. Though, when the rabbit-man inquired about requiring a mechanic, that perked her ears a bit. While she may have just finished one job, she was always open to doing another as if perpetually seeking something else to do. Besides, working on ships and other varying machines was always a sort of form of meditation for her, devoting herself to focus on the intricacies of the project before her and let go of all other outside distractions.

So the Warden turned to the rabbit-man, unapologetic for eavesdropping on the conversation between he and the Mandalorian, after all, they were not exactly being quiet; she uttered in her usual placid though serious tone of voice with a gaze in her blue eyes that matched, "I'm a mechanic. What sort of work do you need done?"

With her casually worn sleeveless Republic Navy flight coat as well as a couple other details to her apparel she blatantly looked ex-Republic military. With another quick sip of her glass of ice water, finishing it off -- after setting the glass back on the bar counter, she approached the big rabbit awaiting an answer while paying no mind to what she viewed as an attention seeking Mandalorian. The loud and boisterous sort, as mentioned earlier, always got under the Warden's skin. The moment she stood before the big, tall rabbit, she merely stood there with her natural hard gaze looking him straight in the eye waiting to see if he would accept her help, or turn her down.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Sorry, this has been half done for a while now, but work and life have been boxing me around for a bit now. Anyway here it is...nothing special.

---

Well hot-damn…the two were actually starting to have a conversation that didn’t consist of the need for physicality. Might not be needed after all. Well, what did I expect, huh? Itani to go startin’ a fight? ”…Bah.” That boy never started a fight unless there was a serious problem (or money) involved. Okay, well…not never. He’d started some scraps when they were younger, but those had typically been because of something he’d said or a prank he’d pulled that someone didn’t like.

Still, I wonder what they’re talkin’ about. As her drink came, the auburn took the time to look around the cantina again. Not really much to see…mandos (both in, and out, of armor), a group of boisterous mercenaries near one of the corners, a shady fellow or two lurking the darker areas of the room…as her eyes came around to the bar again, she caught something, someone, she hadn’t before. This one looked ex-military. Ex-Republic military. Well ain’t that just wonderful. Ah well, she was bound to run across someone like that eventually, she’d just have to be extra cautious with what she said. Not that she didn’t have to be already, but…

“Chukke Findley, it’s nice to meet you, Mr…”

Lia couldn’t help but smirk into her drink at that. Chukke Findley? Really Itani? That was the best you could come up with after all of that?

”I’m a mechanic. What sort of work do you need done?”

Well…she was smirking until that next voice piped up. Green eyes slid over toward the bar again for the briefest of moments. Of course…that woman…well, she’d wait a little bit longer before inserting herself. With a possible Republic…or even ex-Republic…military woman in the immediate area, she needed to be more careful. Still…her glass was starting to get empty…maybe she’d go sooner than later. So, as the three figured out what, exactly, was going on between them, she stood, slung her slug rifle over one shoulder, grabbed her glass, and sauntered up to the bar on the other side of her brother…

…without a word.

I wonder if he’ll notice…