Session export: Tavern Tutorial: Mos Kenny

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A light brown colored Ewok holding a mostly empty bottle of gammorean ale, dressed in a miniature grand admiral’s uniform with a small white hat stumbled past in front of them. It was covered in sand, parts of it torn. One of his two black boots was missing as well.

He took a swig from the bottle, very nearly falling backwards before he leaned forward again taking five very quick steps. He muttered something about “that frakking Mandalorian” before faceplanting in the sand.

Lucky as he was, a speeder shot over him moments later and he rose back to his feet and progressed to the cantina entrance directly across from Druzk, Mex, and Zig.

And then he was gone from sight.

As they made their way to their unknown destination, Mex spent a lot of his time looking at all the neat gizmos on the dashboard of the speeder. He had a fascination with technology and just loved to get his appendages busy dissecting and figuring out tech. This however was not his vehicle, so he opted instead to play around with the radio almost the entire trip. Due to his antennae he could basically feel the change in the stations, a sensation that was definitely peculiar - he could almost tell the station by feel at this point. He wasn’t one that was very adept at conversation but he tried his best with Druzk. The furthest he got was “I’m Mex, this is a radio.” Needless to say it was a bit of an awkward ride.

As they came to a stop, Mex hopped on out of the speeder and caught up with Zig, his large Red eyes already scanning the dusty area for all sorts of scrap and baubles to collect and tinker with. “What are we doing here?” the Verpine asked Zig, as he marched along trying to keep pace.

On the duo’s adventure towards the Mos Kenny cantina, the Barabel was clearly unamused by the damn bug’s antics. Touching things that they were not supposed to touch. The nerve!

Druzk at least decided that the bug deserved some form of response. “Druzk. I know,” he replied flatly.

Off the speeder, he followed on after with the bug to answer Zig’s question. “Many bounties,” he muttered. “Good work here.”

“Of course, of course!” Mex confirmed, enthusiastically nodding his head to Zig’s mention of a scrap pile to raid. He always felt more comfortable at work with nick-knacks than people. But if they were following up on leads people were unfortunately the best place to start. He’d just have to bear with it until then. Eyes on the prize….

Druzk pulled at the canteen from his belt, draining its contents with one swift gulp. As he reattached the water container to his hip, he nodded to Zig.

“I was getting tired of my water.” The lizard’s orange eyes glanced sidelong to the bug next to him, unamused by how excitable they were.

Mex shot Druzk a sideways look. “I think you drank too much if it has made you tired.”

Druzk turned his head towards Mex as a low grumble escaped from him.

There was an audible thud as boots hit the dusty ground off of the Arconan issued Flare-S Swoop. They made their way toward the entrance, the sound of a shuffling of a utility belt and cargo pants to follow. There stood Kaliska and two others that were strangers.

Emere Galo peeled off the scarf that covered her nose and mouth to protect from the small projectiles that was Tatooine’s sand. She left the pair of glasses on, face seemingly stuck between unamused and angry. The Barabel was her official target as she sized up the creature.

“Kaliska,” she greeted flatly then turned to the Barabel, deliberately overlooking the Verpine bug. “Druzk Zornosz?”

Zig nodded to Galo. “Good to see you, Emere. Why don’t we all catch up inside the Cantina”.

“Captain Kaliska?” came a call from across the cantina. The dulcet, posh tones were smooth and accented, and curled with genuine joy. “It is good to see you!”

At a corner booth, with two dust-crusted cups of water, two men were rising from their seats, a Human woman with them, looking like she belonged in the desert itself. The Pantoran who had been speaking smiled in greeting, while the Mirialan’s demeanor was more somber, but he nonetheless tipped his head in something a little more formal than a two-fingered salute of a wave.

“More of your friends?” the Pantoran asked as they approached, his robes white and fine but hood lowered indoors to reveal his pastel pink hair and noble features. His partner wore his own black attire. “A pleasure to meet you both. I am Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir, and this is my husband, Ruka, and Lord Socorra.”

“Galo,” Ruka spoke up, ignoring the pleasantries in favor of looking to the other woman that had just arrived with something like a stricken expression before it hardened. “…you’re here working?”

The Barabel turned towards the sound of a swoop bike and watched as, what he assumed was a human, get off of it to approach.

As her face was unveiled, she was indeed a human.

“Yes,” he said in reply. “What do you want?”

Emere gave Ruka a grunt and a nod, words a last priority. Her eyes looked the thing up and down once more. She sighed impatiently yet answered honestly. “To go home.”

Tatooine was a brutal reminder of the slave trade her daughter was victim of. “You’ve been assigned to me for your affiliation with the Brotherhood. Think of me as… your mentor. Any questions?”

Druzk crossed his arms. “Yes, actually. Can I get someone else?”

As Mex awkwardly shuffled to the bar to sit with Zig, he scanned the environment around him. His attention was caught by some weird contraptions that looked like air purifiers or something to do with manipulating the air quality in some way. His eyes were practically glued in the direction of the filters until he almost tripped over the bar stool. Snapped back to the task on hand, the Verpine quickly stumbled into sitting on the stool with their knees, trying to play it cool.

“Hi I am Mex. Can I have a drink?” they asked, tipping their hand in a drinking motion to the bartender.

The woman snorted humorlessly. “I wish. Maybe someone I could actually stand to look at.”

Eilen wasn’t too far behind Zig’s little speeder party. She just had to, you know, adjust for all the freaking sand. Full body suit to keep her fur clean? Minimal clothing to stop from overheating again? GAH. Both had their faults, neither was perfect, and just screw this planet. She’d eventually decided that sponging the ever-loving kark out of her fur later would be better than suffering a genuine heat stroke. So, no flight suit today - just coverage for her face against the wind, her bags and belts of gear, and a nice and airy set of shorts with a tank top.

It seemed the rest of the group had already departed by the time she arrived. Eilen pulled up her goggles and lowered her scarf from her muzzle, taking in the familiar sight of this backwater town. She re-tightened her bandana and stepped toward the cantina to get out of the murderous son.

…Was that Emere? “Oh, uh… hi. Ma'am.” Out of a mix of uncertainty and just anxious habit, she saluted the woman in poor form, then hurried through the door. Oh, good. Zig wasn’t too far.

Mex blankly stared at the bartender after having to choose a drink. They always hated this part, so many drinks, so many colours. Better to just drink something and move on. They were absolutely still except for their antennae that flicked around as if buffering a response.

“Hyperdrive.” the verpine asked for on a whim, not wanting to sit there silently for longer than needed.

Emere’s comment actually managed to make him snerk. “Not all can appreciate my good looks.” The Barabel made his way into the cantina without saying another word and headed straight to the bar.

Emere was glad that the Barabel was off. She ventured into the cantina at a much slower rate eventually taking her stead at the bar. She propped herself onto a stool, nodding to the bartender. “Water.”

Having gone unnoticed so far, Eilen crept up behind Zig and reached a hand over to double-tap her left shoulder, while slinking off to the right, where she leaned onto the bar like nothing had happened.

Mex nearly turned their whole body over to look at Zig in surprise. “You made that!? Very interesting. Not at all like the filtration systems I’ve taken apart in the past. What additional parts did you end up using to modify the system?” Already distracted with the idea of the filtration systems before they even received an answer they turned back to the bartender to ask a question.

“If I clean tables can I take parts too?”

Wrapped nearly from head to toe in tribal desert black cloth, silks and veil, a single striking arctic blue eye peeking through, the darkly tanned Human woman stood a respectable distance from Ruka and Cora but was no doubt there mainly as their security. Socorra nodded to those she was introduced to but otherwise preoccupied herself with studying the cantina occupants and of course, the exits. One burn-scarred hand with the sigil of the Black Bha'lir criminal society tattoo held tightly onto a beskar spear.

The pair of Proconsuls watched the growing gathering a bit like chaperones observing a dance. Corazon smiled over at Socorra.

“I would ask you to relax, but I know that would be disrespectful, so…thank you for coming with us to check on things here. I know this is beginning to be more…populated than we expected.”

Mex stared in awe at Zig’s explanation. The Verpine’s mind attempted to build the described contraption in their mind. They nodded in affirmation in supposed understanding. “Oh I understand!”

“I am excited to meet Vic.”

Noticing Druzk moving to the bar as well, Mex gestured one arm appendage at him before gesturing to their own drink. “Hi Druzk. You can order drinks here. This is a Hyperdrive.” After bluntly describing his drink, he took a loud sip through the straw.

The Ewok suddenly jolted awake and glanced around before grumbling in frustration as he takes another drink.

As the bottle touched his lips, he found it was empty. He glanced at it and began to shake it, extending his tongue trying to get even a little drop that never came. Throwing the bottle aside, he started to stumble out of his booth towards the bar.

“Hey…barkie, bottle of gammorean ale if you have it.” The disheaveled Ewok stammered as he dropped about double the worth of a bottle in credits on the bar. “Whole bottle. Screw the glass.”

Eilen’s ears shot up, not expecting to nearly get tackled, and she nearly staggered. “Ack– hiii,” she said with a crooked grin. “I… couldn’t help but overhear– you guys are here collecting scraps, or…?”

“Hi I am Mex. This is a hyperdrive.” Mex said raising his glass in a sadly attempted introduction to Eilen.

Druzk glared over to Mex before eyeing the bug’s drink. It looked interesting enough. “What’s in it?” he muttered.

Eilen’s grin turned into a confused squint. Her ears flattened, then one lifted as she glanced toward the menu. “…Uh… Sssso it is, eheh…” She glanced back to Mex uncertainly, not sure what more to say. Might as well start with something simple, she figured. “Uh… Hi, I am Eilen.”

Mex stared blankly to Druzk for a moment before taking another loud sip, as if they were trying to deduce what was in the drink.

“… Hyperdrive.”

“Hi Eilen.” Mex responded, before silently staring at them.

Eilen just… continued staring back. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her ears flickered. Zig still had a hold on her neck. She didn’t have a sudden escape tactic. She didn’t even have a next thing to say. Maybe just a question about what he was up to? Could she talk now? No, wait, it had been too long. Oh no.

Druzk’s brow ridges lowered at Mex’s reply. “There is no…. hyperdrive in your drink.” Fortunately, for Mex’s sake, Zig specified some of the ingredients. But, one key ingredient was missing.

“And the alcohol?”

Zxyl Bes'uliik Taldrya landed in the scorching sand several meters from the entrance to the cantina, a small plume of the fine grain dirt being kicked into the air by the amethyst flame coming from the thruster on his Supercommando Jetpack as his boots connected with the ground. Cutting power to the jetpack immediately upon making “solid” contact with the sand, the gun-metal grey armored Mandalorian sank just slightly as his full weight rested on the surface of the planet.

The helmet-hidden Taldrya’s gaze descended to his right arm as he raised it slightly, a minute black boot - too small for any proper humanoid - held firmly in his hand. Looking towards the cantina, the Mandalorian - a follower of The Creed - let out a quiet chuckle and proceeded to enter through the front door of the small town establishment.

As usual, Bes'uliik never went anywhere unarmed. Attached to his left thigh plate by way of a magnetic holster was his Darksaber-inspired custom crossguard hilt, a primarily gold and red plated modified WESTAR-35 in the pistol holder on his right thigh, and a gun-metal grey spear with red and gold accents made of pure beskar alloy secured to his back between the back plate of his armor and jetpack. No matter where he went, his pure beskar alloy-forged vambraces were always present on his wrists.

He was exceptionally over-weaponized for a simple trip to a cantina, but he had come with a purpose - he was tracking a certain party. As the door slid open, his mark was - amusingly - at the bar. Nodding to whichever patrons he came across in his journey across the bar as he casually strolled through, it didn’t take long for Zxyl to reach the soiled-uniform mini-bear and took the time to hilariously tap him on the right shoulder - with his own boot.

Teebu turned, and looked up, his expression immediately changing and his demeanor as if he had never had a drink at all. He bowed his head forward, his right hand across his chest.

“Regent Zxyl, it is an honor. I did not expect you to join us for the Womp Rat hunt.” he said as solidly as he could muster, with precise professionalism and sobriety. Reaching up after he straightened up and taking his boot, he placed it back on his foot. “I appreciate you bringing this back to me. I had all but resigned it as lost.”

Realising that they made it awkward, Mex tried to problem solve out of this. Problem: You made it awkward again dingus. Solution: Conversation.

“… … … Hi Eilen.” Was all they could muster.

“It was a… Relaxing experience. And worth watching you trek across the desert without a boot from afar. I’m surprised you did as well as you did,” the Mandalorian joked, remaining standing.

Oh no. “Hhhhi… Mex…” Wait, words! Now was her chance. Eilen quickly straightened herself. “…So, what’s up?” Wait, frak– Too late. Terrible conversation starter.

“The roof. The sky. Space!” Mex’s antennae twitched around in thought. Maybe they could talk about their passion. “Zig and I are going to get scrap. Do you like scrap?”

Tracinya had been sat quietly in the corner of the bar watching some of the patrons talk to one another with a slight interest. The young black and gold-armoured Mandalorian held a cigarra in one hand, she puffed on it casually in-between sips taken from her glass of Corellian ale. Tatooine was not a planet the Sith was fond of travelling to very often, but a cantina was a cantina and it would do her some good to unwind for a bit.

Eilen’s ears flattened again, not sure if he was being witty or completely literal. Not enough context. Blast it. But that question! “Uh y-yeah! Scrap is… useful. I, uh, probably could stand to loot around for my droid. He’s having problems, again, so…”

“You are Zig’s friend? Maybe you come with us?” Mex mentioned back Eilen.

“A whiskey works. Surprise me with something else.”

“I’m sure your tiring water would be a surprise to many creatures.” Mex stated bluntly to Druzk.

While Emere waited for her water she assessed the room for potential dangers aside from the people. She kept a vigilant eye on the people in her immediate vicinity. Drukz was close enough for her to hear what he ordered. At least his tastes were redeemable.

She took a sip of the water after it was set down.

“Yeah! We’re friends. Friends? She’s– yeah.” Eilen’s fingers fidgeted together. “…I think I was planning to. Eheh…”

Druzk audibly sighed as he bowed his head and closed his eyes in response.

“Good, good, just gimmie whatever ale you’ve got kicking around” replied the armored man to the bartender as he dropped whatever credits would be required for his drink on the table. Bes'uliik took a quick gaze around the bar, noticing many faces he did not recognize. Then again, it was Tatooine of all places. After a bit of surveying, he noticed Tracinya off sitting in the corner and another woman, shrouded in dark cloths and holding a spear. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he looked at her, but made no moves in that direction. Instead, the Regent would make his way over to his fellow Mandalorian in the corner once he’d secured his beverage, taking a seat at the table.

“Su cuy'gar, Tracinya.”

“Being a former member of the Inquisitorius, of course I did well. Before my spinal injury, I was quite the covert little fiend.” Teebu chuckled as he slid the credits back across the bar. “Bottle, please?”

It was so strange. It was as if he literally never had a drink before this he was so solid minded.

“Of course,” she nodded. “And yes, Tatooine is not Socorro. You come with someone to watch back even in cantina.”

Cora gave a hum. “Oh, was Socorro very hospitable then?”

“No,” Ruka answered before he realized he was doing it. He stilled, looked to Socorra, felt the dissonance of memories that weren’t his, and rubbed at his head. “I mean– ay. I dunno. Sorry.”

She smiled with a look of knowing. “Socorro was criminal sanctuary, where bounty hunting was illegal. A place to rest and lay low. Unless venturing into the sands, where eaten alive. Bharhulai were savage far more than Tuskan Raiders.”

The Pantoran’s polite, bubbly expression flickered slightly. “Oh,” he replied. “Well…you seem proud of it, and I’m sure rightly so.”

“You will come with us.” Mex repeated in faux-conversation fashion.

“… That is nice.”

The Barabel provided the Togruta bartender a nod of thanks and knocked back the drink without a sweat. He slammed the glass down against the table. “Another one.”

Tracinya turned to face the Reaver, a smile spread spreading across her face as she recognised the grey-armoured warrior sitting across from her

“Su cuy'gar, Zyxl!” the young Sith replied, happy to see someone in the crowd she recognised, and another Mandalorian at that.

“What brings you to this dump, burc'ya?”

Eilen’s attempt at an awkward grin lost the smile, though her features remained stretched in an uncertain expression. “…Y-yeah. Uh…” She paused for a few more seconds, but then her ears flicked back up. A thought occurred to her, and she fished her datapad out of her backpack. She’d overheard Mex mentioning tech with Zig, in conjunction with the scrap hunt they were on. After a moment of tapping through its menus, she showed Mex a schematic of an R2-unit, albeit far altered from its factory form.

“Dooo you know much about droids?”

The water tasted fine.

Her arctic eye studied the bounty of Mandalorians that appeared in the cantina. One was the current Brotherhood Regent, recognized from official holos. The other, she admired her armor colors. But Socorra was not one to introduce herself.

Rhylance didn’t know why he was here. He had recieved a message to meet an informant, but seeing this establishment, he started to believe the request had been fake. Some form of trick to get him to this…bar.

Mind you, the Chiss was fully ok with the rare glass of wine or tumblur of whiskey, bourbon, or scotch. But these hole in the wall establishments of backwater refuge were beneath him.

Regardless the Chiss decided to enter. At least he.could make some interesting observations of the local wildlife as they indulged their watering hole.

“Bweoooop bweep bwoop” (Of course I do) Mex chattered in droidspeak to confirm Eilen’s question. “I have not had the privilege to investigate a physical specimen yet. I see some non-stock pieces, this is your work?”

The Barabel’s eyes trailed downwards towards the drink on the table, pausing midway for just a few seconds on something that really caught his attention. The bartender may have made him smile, only a little, as he slammed back the drink, just as quick as before.

Unfortunately, some of the beverage did not meet its proper target and dripped down his mouth and onto his top.

“Sithspit,” he grumbled, reaching for a cloth to wipe himself down.

“My childhood on Socorro is not remembered fondly but my time with the Black Bha'lir is. As opposed to Tatooine,” the Sith continued, “where I died in a fire while fighting Marick.” She turned to Ruka. “Hopefully that memory did not cross over.”

“Oh, you speak binary! That’s great, eheh. I… actually can’t vocalize appropriately for it, but I can…” Eilen wasn’t fully sure where that thought was going, apart from rambling. “Uh, anyway, yes! My droid, Toto– er, R2-T0, full designation - he’s… a fixer-upper, and I’ve been trying to keep him going for ages. There’s always something else breaking, you know? And I can’t just get a new factory part every time, so there’s a lot of… my best efforts, I guess, eheh.”

As Zig leaned over with her datapad, Eilen tried to peer over to see it herself. “…What? What’s…?”

The Mirialan winced, scratching lightly at his palms where hers were burned.

“Just echoes,” he admitted. Cora looked between them both with evident concern.

“The Black Bha'lir?” he asked, hoping to salvage.

Druzk wasn’t going to allow himself to be embarrassed by a spilled drink. He poked at the bar top with a clawed finger. “Yes, another one.”

“Zig wrote down that you are cute!” Mex stated bluntly before moving on, oblivious. “Maybe I can help you find the part you need. Lots of people seem to leave scrap laying around. They probably just do not know what to do with it. Fixed up many droids that most deemed as junk to be able to buy my next meal.”

Eilen’s entire face went blank. Her ears flattened as a faint red tint slowly became apparent beneath her fur. It took a moment to register the rest of what Mex had said beyond the initial point.

“…Um–” She swiped her hair off her face, only for it to fall back down. “Yeah! That would be… that would be great, yeah. Uh, thanks, eheh, heh…”

Calm your tail, she’s just saying that– Eilen stopped mid-thought to read, ears rising as the datapad was offered. “…Oh… Uh, right. Eheh… S-same.”

“How does your drink taste? Better than the tired water?” Mex asked.

“The Bha'lir is smuggling society. While they are criminals, they are not Hutts. They have creed similar to Mandalorian, actually. Aside, when I was Quaestor, I used my contacts there to set up trading and smuggling routine for the Clan. I am currently reestablishing these as they refused to do business in my absence.”

“Do you have any parts you need right now? I’m always looking for new parts. If I see something I can let you know.” Mex offered to Eilen.

As before, Druzk slammed back the drink. The burn, this time, was a more pleasant one. The saurian seemed slightly off-balance in his seat. He was definitely starting to feel the drinks getting to him.

Unfortunately for Mex, the Barabel’s filter was failing. Enough with the damn tired water!

“If you don’t shut the frak up, I’m going to rip off your antennae and stuff them up your…. whatever it is you shit out of,” he hissed.

The verpine held onto their antennae for a moment in contemplation of the threat. “… Ok.” Mex said, defeated.

The sudden outburst threw Eilen’s mind in a completely different direction. Her ears flicked back as she turned around. “Hey, who–” She suddenly stopped as she turned to see the giant reptilian man before them. It wasn’t every day Eilen had to look up at someone. Her head instinctively recoiled back, but after a moment, she held up her composure and glared at him.

“…Come on, Mex. We don’t need to stick around these jerks.” She tried to usher Mex away from the bar.

Mex finished his drink and followed Eilen away from the bar. “Ok.” He muttered, getting off the stool he was still awkwardly crouched on.

Though they had just recently visited the desert planet, as soon as Luka had heard that a group of Arconans were travelling to their home planet they had to drop in. Mos Kenny wasn’t their typical haunt, but it would do.

The androgynous human walked in, dusting the sand out of their brown curls. They removed their goggles and looked around, curious to see who else was here. Bico, their nexu runt, was close to their heels. Luka made a straight line for the bar, though drifted around the conflict. Though of course they eavesdropped in just a bit.

Druzk stood up awkwardly from his seat to face Zygerrian. He looked down to her.

“He is stupid.”

Druzk’s brow ridges lowered at Zig’s poor excuse of an insult. A few moments later, the Barabal just bursts out laughing.

“Stupid face!” he repeated. “Is that it, kid?! Hahaha!”

“Kid?” Socorra’s dark eyebrow raised a hair at the Barabel getting up in the Captain’s grill. “Zig, you need someone’s shebs kicked?”

He was here to have a good time. Relax a bit. Zig was successful at placating him… for the time being.

“Another drink,” he agreed.

It didn’t take long for Xathia to find the bar, it was something of an inate sense by now. The room was steadily filling which was always normally a good sign for the quality of alcohol, as her nose led her straight to the bar.

“The top shelf and three bottles to your left from this position, and a double serving,” she reels off after taking a moment to scan the shelves behind the bartender. Before adding on, “Please.” She rests her head on her hand with her elbow resting against the bar, keeping an eye and ear out around the bar.

For a planet that’s supposed to be the exhaust end of space, I feel like I’m stuck coming here once a cycle, Teikhos mused as he sauntered down the egress ramp of the borrowed shuttle. “Hmm,” he grunted, looking over at the row of speeders and startships accumulating at the edge of town. “Busy day.”

“Tatooine, the womp rat race… This establishment? I tracked your furry little Consul here, and returned his boot to him” replied Bes'uliik, leaning his spear against the table at a high angle. Of the few fellow Mandalorians the Dathomirian had come across in his time in the Brotherhood, he enjoyed the company of Tracinya probably the most. Although she was a younger Mando'ade and ten years his junior, the Sith had a lust for full out combat he found some of their people he’d come across so far just… Seemed to lack. Like the Regent, she was bull-headed.

“And what of you? Tatooine is a little out of the way,” Zxyl asked in return.

She inclines her head as she lifts the glass to the bartender. She liked it when they didn’t argue with her, though it was fun to find out when some bottles were for display purposes only and they didn’t actually have her preference in. She sips the alcohol, savouring the taste and sensations as she spins around to rest her back against the bar, judging the room by her standards.

A soft thud sounded beside the Human as his friend and companion flopped into a stool beside him. Already the faux-Zelosian had shed the upper portion of her red and black flightsuit, the sleeves tied around her waist, revealing her white tank top beneath. Her usually loose and curly green locks was tied in a high bun, a silken wrap shielding the majority of her scalp from the sand outside. Golden fingers carded through the nexu’s brown fur gingerly, just briefly, before retreating back a comfortable distance. Not a fan of most animal companions, Bico was one exception Diyrian made out of familiarity.

“I had a thought…kark sand” Diy jabbed, dusting of a light cloud of it from her arms. She flashed a toothy grin towards Luka however, “Though I ain’t complainin’, gettin’ ta spend some time with ya. Needed to get off world anyways.”

The woman’s grin waned just slightly as her mind started wandering to horrible creatures of the night. The urge to order a drink and drown the cries out was high. Ya supposed to be soberin’, ‘member? Diy thought to herself, her aqua gaze shifting towards the entrance expecting her sponsor to walk in any moment. Her fingertips brushed the golden Kiffar tattoo that crossed her cheeks, her eyes spanning the room and catching a few familiar faces mingling. Her usual laid-back, charismatic tone snapped back as she returned her attention to Luka and the bar. “Looks like the others are already gettin’ into some fun, ye?”

“Well kark me sideways,” the Erinos smirked at all of the familiar newcomers. “Hold my spear, I’ll be around. Warn me before you get into trouble, sah?” Socorra handed the tall weapon to Ruka, as if he’d know what to do with it, and sashayed over to the bar counter.

“Kark sand?” She came up to the rear-side of Diy’s seat, her own darkly skinned face close to that of the Kiffar. “You wound me so.”

Heat. When the shuttle doors opened, a wall of dry, scorched air slammed into the Shistavanen’s armor. It took mere moments for his suit to turn into an oven packed with dense fur. On instinct, his long wide tongue rolled out of his mouth, dangling past sharp fangs. It took him a few moments to pull the tongue in, not wanting to look ridiculous as he stepped off of the shuttle ramp into the sand.

A glance was cast over his left shoulder, the golden iris regarding his flight companion for a moment. His mouth opens to speak, then he pauses and shuts it again. Avery’s a big enough man to handle himself. And if he isn’t, he’ll learn. Doon rolls his shoulders, pauldrons suddenly aren’t the most comfortable thing under a relentless sun. Out of habit, he gave himself a quick pat down, checking that his equipment and gear was there and secured properly. He only wore his armor and a few pieces of light gear, but you never be too sure when visiting a planet that you left bodies on the last time you visited.

The front of the cantina was packed with personal vehicles. Speeders mostly. With the time it took Doon to weave between them and reach the cantina doors, he could already feel the heat getting to him. He didn’t hesitate to throw the doors open and duck into the interior shade, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the frame.

His position offered him a good view of who was already here, and where he might end up going. Once more he glanced back at Avery. If he’s anything like what he was at the ‘ice cream’ party, he’ll follow. Doon decided, then starting stepping through the cantina, carving a path towards Diy and Socorra for the smaller man behind him.

Finally, he reached the table with the trio already chatting. He didn’t speak much to indicate his presence, merely moving through the room probably was enough to draw a glance at his armored shape and spark recognition. He offers a simple nod to the table, his eye pausing on Luka for a moment, unfamiliar with him personally, but able to recall what he could of his scent from somewhere…

He shakes his head a sits, looking towards the bar for a moment, wondering if he’d have to go there personally to order. Either way, his first objective was to cool off. So he shifted in his armor, tugging it away from his fur for a few moments in a vain effort to reduce the built up heat faster. A low growl slips from his snarling lips, a standard Shistavanen swear. Cursing his thick fur.

“Throw cuffs on ‘n’ punish me fer my crimes of offendin’ ya,” Diyrian purred, recognizing the voice, and twisted to meet the very close newcomer. Surprise and joy lingered in her eyes as her gaze met the shifting veil inches from her face, her grin teasing. “Might hate the sand less if you ‘n’ Luks dressed me. How ya doin’?”

She glanced passed the woman briefly, catching Doon’s towering form, “And ya too, Wolfie?”

“In reference to someone else dressing me for this place? Maybe.” He rumbles out grumpily, eye bouncing between the two for a moment before he leans back and tries relaxing once more. His head tilts slightly as he looks at Luka, curious, but not lastingly so.

Avery seeing the Shistavanen in his armor made him feel underdressed for the occasion. His black button up and white tie would hardly be enough protection against any projectiles coming his way. He had memories as a young boy going to Tatooine, but there was nothing distinct other than the sand and scorching heat. The climate was the total opposite of somewhere like Zainab.

With his mostly non-lethal get-up, he trailed behind Doon into the cantina. Hands tucked into his black slacks as the large wolf-man stopped at the table of a recognizable trio. His eyes panned around the room, taking in the faces. Some he knew, others he didn’t.

Stepping over to where Diy stood, he gave her a friendly tap on the shoulder and his usual charming smile. He said nothing to respect the ongoing conversation.

Zuza usually adored the desert. The harsh pounding sun felt warm and comforting on her skin, sand a gorgeous rich sunset, and it meant that she was at least close to her father usually. Which was usually a good thing. Comfort, an honest hand, and a step away from the responsibilities she kept placing upon herself.

Her last trip on Tatooine changed that.

The Human’s expression was uncharacteristically serious as she crossed the sands on her personal Flare-S Swoop. Zig kept teasing her for having yet to name it but it was difficult to pick one so so far the name was simply ‘Zoom’. The speeder nearly being destroyed in its last mission had prompted her to actually settle on something. Her ribs ached in memory of a long healed break, screams, the gasping-

Jet’s poor mother. At least the boy was talking now. Not to her, but her father had managed to ease his grief enough to communicate with him.

That would be enough.

Blinking, Zuza realised she was arriving in town. Mos Kenny wasn’t usually where she’d stop in, but it was the place Cora and Ruka knew to her awareness and she knew the pair had headed out this way this morning. As Zu pulled up beside the Cantina, she noted the presence of many vehicles with curiosity and a ping of relief.

Kaylee was her. Zig was here.

A smile tentatively began to form as her boots hit the sand, heading into the busy bar.

The Barabel returned to his seat clumsily. “Sit down,” he said to Zig. May have even been a demand. “Bartender!” he barked out.

The tavern doors burst open as some poor, unfortunate soul was flung inside like they were weightless. The being in question, a middle-aged Human with a distinct scar over his right eye, crashed into the bar, much to the chargrin of some of the local patrons.

Appius entered after the man, who was slumped against the bar seething in his direction.

“So, to answer your question, no. I don’t care about the personal well-being of little slime balls like you. Now, you can either come with me quietly, or I can rough you up a bit more. Trust me, that last option provides shocking results. Your choice, schutta.”

It was then that the Taldryan Consul realised he wasn’t alone. The tavern was packed with Brotherhood members, some familiar, some not so. Among them were so very unimpressed, angry bouncers.

“Erm… hi?” Appius greeted before pointing at his intended target. “He started it.”

“Doing well now that you’re here.” She turned to Doon, then Avery and have them both a slow, exaggerated one-eyed wink. “Seems that I need to educate all of you on proper hot weather attire.”

She peered further past them into the cantina, keeping her eye and senses on the exit. Which apparently was warranted when the doors burst open. She watched that new scene with interest.

“Oh hi Appius.” Zuza peered in the door, having watched the man slam the door open with another man. It was definitely an impressive way to make an entrance.

She slipped into the unpleasantly much cooler room, although she flashed an amused grin at the taller Human, “Its kinda busy today, might wanna take that outside huh?”

Oh, hey! Haven’t seen you since Dandoran! How’ve you been, Zuza? Sage keeping out of trouble?“ Appius responded cheerfully whilst out of the corner of his eye, his target tried to slink away quietly.

Appius stretched out his hand, and the man froze in place.

"Yeah, maybe you are right…” the Mandalorian conceded to Zuza as he launched the man back towards the tavern entrance like a yo-yo.

“You’ve seen most of the attire I have.” He responds in a light manner moments before his head jerks to the side, eye narrowed at the commotion by the door. A soft snap followed by a crackle of energy sparked between his claws as his shock glove activated out of habit. His other claw slipped under the table and gently rested on the hilt of a Saber. His growl rumbled through the room, muscles tensed as he resists standing and shouting, for the moment.

“I’ve been well, got a promotion even. I’m taking care of Arcona’s new recruits now. Sage… Well he and his brother disappeared a few weeks ago. Aru was in a lot of debt so… y'know.” Zuza rolled her eyes, “Sage couldn’t leave him to run from that solo.”

She tilted her head slightly at the yo-yo'ed man, “How about you? And this guy, what’d he do?”

“We had a prison break in the Caelus System recently. This is one of the scumbags that got away. I tracked him here and caught him red-handed trying to take someone’s speeder outside.”

Appius then took note of the influx of the number of droids. His fingertips grazed the hilt of his Darksaber inspired lightsaber. Perhaps he had overstayed his welcome…

“Ah. Yeah that’s fair.”

She glanced down to his hand reaching for his saber, noting the tension and took a few steps closer to him, nudging his arm with her elbow. Albeit a little awkwardly thanks to the height difference. “They’re just bar bots.”

Avery’s head snapped to the commotion at the entrance witnessing the guy getting tossed. He unfolded his arms immediately on edge.

It made him regret not wearing his armor. Armor he didn’t feel comfortable in yet for a multitude of reasons but one being he didn’t deserve it. Seeing as there was no immediate threat he looked back to the group, noticing the long wink.

“Socorra?” He asked, surprised he didn’t recognize her based on the curves alone.

“I was fine, until you opened your mouth. Your breath stinks,” Appius retorted. “What’s with the droids? Don’t have any friends so you had to make some yourself?”

Zuza ran her hand down her face in mild exasperation.

“BAR BOTS!”

Doon slowly stands from his seat at the table, snout curled back in a snarl, showing off each sharp tooth. At his sides hang his claws, arched into open weapons with energy occasionally crackling between the metal engraved tips. His knees bend slightly, growl intensifying as he watches the stand off from where he was. A few slow steps positions himself between the trouble maker and the table of companions.

Druzk pulled back from the Zygerrian with a snort. “Hey, watch it! At least buy me dinner first.”

“Doon, we gotta see this. Let the ‘keep have his moment.”

“Took you long enough.” She smirked and pulled down her scarves.

“Doon, your testosterone levels are way too high my friend.” Avery said, attempting to step in front of the shistavanen.

Teikhos strolled into the cantina and almost did a double take when he saw the crowd. He recognized what seemed like half of Arcona, several extremely kitted out Mandalorians. the Regent, and a kriffing Ewok in the galaxy’s tiniest uniform. “Clearly I missed a memo somewhere,” he muttered, returning a friendly nod from Cora. “Two steps into the cantina and I already need a drink.”

With his ever intense growl, his words were hard to interpret, but without breaking his glare at the troublemaker in the doorway, he snarls at Avery “Don’t bark at me because you have none of your own, Pup.” Avery stepping infront of Doon did quite literally nothing. His vision was unchanged, and if need be, Doon wasn’t concerned about forcing past him.

The Zeltron sauntered over to the bar. “I’d have a puppers, if you don’t mind.” He leaned over the bar and dramatically flicked his cape to one side to reveal the lightsaber hanging from his belt. “But what I’m really thirsty for is justice.”

“You know, being a Jedi used to get a guy some respect.” Teikhos made a show of sighing. “I don’t supposed you’re an animal lover?”

“Well, my order steps in when the local authorities can’t or won’t deal with problems. And no offense to your fair town but I don’t think you even have local authorities. Anyway, we have it on good authority that there’s a man in Mos Kenny who… ok, it sounds weird when I say it out loud. But he, ah, is taking certain liberties with an eopie.”

Appius watched his targets from the corner of his eye. They were roughly in close proximity to one another.

Perfect.

With one swift motion, Appius raised a hand. The dark side of the Force swirled through his body as it jettisoned lightning from his fingertips. It crashed into the first droid, making it convulse before the stream jumped to the next. Then the next after that, and so on until all the droids fell to a clump on the ground, broken and battered.

“You were saying?” Appius said confidently.

“I heard about the race too, so I thought I’d check it out since I wasn’t doing anything else, and I do love a nice cantina in the shade..” Tracinya nodded eagerly, taking a swig of her drink. A grin flashed across her face and she leaned forward on the table, stubbing her cigarra end against the stained silver surface.

The Aedile took a swift glance around at the other bar patrons before speaking again, this time in a lower voice.

“I was also hoping to watch a good drunken brawl kick off, but sadly that hasnt happened just yet.”

No sooner had the Mandalorian got the words out of her mouth then her attention was drawn to the Taldryan Consul in the midst of a stand off of sorts.

“Ah krif.” Tracinya put palm over her face to hide her dissapointment. “Looks like Appius beat me to it again.”

Anger coursed through his veins, the dark side began to fluctuate as his hand reached for his lightsaber, ready to try and impale the Zygerrian through her skull.

No, this was not smart. Appius could be brash, impulsive, reckless, downright foolish, but even he knew that trying it out in a bar full of Brotherhood members was a bad idea.

Using the Force, he recalled his helmet to his hands, Zig tensing as he did so. He placed it back on his head.

‘What the hell am I doing?’

The last time he was this reckless was when he turned to the dark side. Maybe his control over it wasn’t as finite as he thought…

“Fine,” Appius said bluntly as he went to retrieve the bounty he came here for in the first place. “I didn’t mean any harm. I apologise for the…”

Appius glanced at the wrecked droids.

“Damage…”

He retrieved a small satchel of credits and threw it at Wa'yne.

“That should be enough to cover it.”

With that, he took the wanted man and left the bar.

Zuza sighed in relief, looking sadly toward the droids. “Well.. thank you cap'n.” She did a joking head bob to Zig, starting to take a step away. A bubble of anger at the ridiculousness of the situation had been brewing, but a moments thought correct the temptation to slap Appius. It’d probably make things worse. Talking to him wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Before she went though…. She returned to Zig, kissing the other woman on the cheek, “I’ll be back in. Gonna try and talk to him.”

With that, she turned and jogged went to follow the Consul.

“Doon, take my seat. I have cigarra with your name on it.” Socorra stood up and pointed to show she meant it. Sit your shebs down, now.

“That happen often ‘round here?” Teikhos asked Ka'tey, his eyes following Appius out the door

With the proveribal storm passing, the verpine’s interest suddenly seemed very focused on the ruined droids. “You uh… You still need those droids?” Mex asked.

Eilen peered around his shoulder, ears up, just as curious.

Avery did his best to ignore the comment that Doon made, but it was a testament to his failures and weaknesses. Still, he managed to keep from saying something that would worsen the situation. His eyes watched as Zig diffused the situation that started, surprisingly, with a satisfied punch.

Appius was well on his way out and Doon presumably was no longer looking for a fight.

He looked at the Verpine who piped up about the droids. “I think there’s still a chance they may be repairable… I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Major Avery Watson.”

“Hi Avery, I am Mex. Those are broken droids.” The verpine twitched their antennae to the prospect of the little project. That beats a bar brawl any day.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mex. Those broken droids may be salvageable yet.” He looked to Zig sadly. “You want any help getting these guys back to life?”

The tap on her shoulder hadn’t gone missed and Avery’s arrival noted. Diy had returned his smile with one of her own, leaning back into conversation between her comrades.

That was until the bar erupted with a more colorful scene. As expected, Doon and Socks we’re prepared to respawn, and Ave had to step in with his bit. A-plus de-escalation, Chief. Diy in the meanwhile leaned back against the bar beside Luka to watch. Unfortunately, a good bar brawl did not come to being. She fidgeted with a charm around her neck, the honest stones filling the naked feeling her destroyed choker necklace had left. She was getting anxious, and needed to do something, talk with someone. Perhaps meet some new folks.

“Hey, Babes, you want anythin’,” she asked Luka, jutting a thumb towards the barkeep, her other hand massaging the counter with her thumb.

“That was stupid, Appius. Stupid stupid STUPUD! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU DI'KUT!”

Appius took off his helmet and angrily tossed it into the sand. His pupils were dilated, and his face red with anger, not as Zig, surprisingly, but himself. He thought he was better than this, he’ll, he needed to be better than this. He was a frakking Consul for crying out loud! What sort of example did he just set for Taldryan?

A bad one, that’s what.

No doubt Zxyl would be disappointed in him too, not to mention how Ankira was going to react when she found out what happened…

Tbe Taldryan ship loomed a short distance away. It was a Kom'rk fighter Appius had taken a particular liking too. With a deep sigh, and a heart filled with regret, he retrieved his helmet, and made his way to the ship located just on the outskirts of the little town, ensuring his prisoner wasn’t leaving his grasp anytime soon.

Before he could pick up his helmet however, Zuza had already scooped it from the sands, brushing it off. As Appius turned to retrieve it she held it out to him. Her face was calm, a small sympathetic smile on her lips.

“Well you already covered any rant I could have had at you. Not any questions, but those probably won’t be helpful huh?”

Her brown eyes, like dark honey under the harsh twin suns, moved to the ship and then back to Appius.

“I think a round would do us all some good,” Luka said, gaze drifting from the Shistavanen. So fiesty. “I think the heat has gone to some heads. Though I love a bit of the dramatics, I need a drink or two in me first.” They leaned against the bar, head proppedon one arm, comfortable now that the flair had subsided.

They caught that anxious fiddling of Diy’s, though said nothing of it in present company. Perhaps it was better now to distract. Have some fun times. Mingle.

“Myself, I could do with something hard with an interesting name. Let'shave some fun.”

Ah, bolts. Avery, of course. Eilen gulped down her personal thoughts on him and tried to grin. “Heyyy, Avery… Y-yeah, we can… we should have tools for that. Uh– Wait, shouldn’t we ask them?” She pointed to the Togrutas running the place.

Doon had already Unclipped the saber from his belt, and crouched lower, reading to spring himself at the sith in a whirl of claw and blade. He took one step. Then a second. But Zig had beaten him there. Doon watched the helmet fly off and snarled at the perfect opportunity that Zig presented to him. His claw found the ignition for his Saber, but Zig found her way infront of him.

It took a few heartbeats for Doon’s good ear to stop ringing and properly take in the captains words. It didn’t stop him from watching the sith, planning strikes and counters. But…

He walked away. Kriffing sith. Doon’s position didn’t change, his face twisted in pure rage as he watched the sith stroll out the door like nothing happened. He watched, the only thing he was aware of was the swinging of the door, and his own growl.

A few more moments passed and engine noise that was originating from his chest began to die down. Slowly, his shoulders lowered and his eye began focusing on other things like the door swinging open as Zuza runs out after the man. At the same time, he faintly hears his name being called, almost demanding him sit down. How can I, after that? he thinks to himself. His ear flicks at the mention of the Cigarra, but doesn’t unclench is fist. “Keep it lit for me.” He rumbles out as he makes his way to the cantina doors, clipping the saber back to its slot on his hip.

He steps out into the heat of the sun, and casts his gaze around the sands to spot Zuza trailing after the sith. He lets a soft curse slip in Shistavanen as he stands a ways from the entrance and glares death at the Man.

“I have a few tools on me, Eilen. And that’s a good idea,” he agreed, offering the Selenian a good-natured smile . He approached the barkeepers, gently resting his hands on the bar. “Would you mind if me and my friend Eilen here attempt to revive your droids? No guarantee as it looks like some short-circuiting occured.”

He actually turned down a cigarra. Socorra sighed inwardly. If she hadn’t been there for the Pee-cons she might have gone after Doon. Instead she slightly nudged Diy and quietly slid into a seat next to Xathia and “accidentally” bumped into the woman.

She was fully prepared to give the person who bumped into her a mouthful and press them to buy her a refill, when she blinked and realised that it was a familiar face. A changed one, but then again she had picked up more than a few scars and plenty of greys in her absence as well. “Well well, the bantha dragged in something of interest finally, it’s been a while Socorra.”

“Comin’ right up, Desert King,” Diyrian winked at the drifter. She pushed off the counter and started moving towards the Togruta woman when Socorra nudged her. She’d interacted with the lady a couple times to know that was a beckoning. Her grin twitched and she held up a reassuring, just one moment finger to Luka as she pivoted and followed the other Human.

Passing by a Barabel hunched over their drink, the faux-Zelosian idly reached out and brushed well practiced fingers against their clothes. The touch lasted just long enough for a deep inhale, tinges of traveling over windy sands and faint whisps of threatening someone lingering at her finger tips. She continued on, hands making busy with tightening her flightsuit’s sleeves around her waist. Halting beside Socorra’s shoulder, she once again leaned her back against the counter, blue-green gaze taking in the other woman beside her.

“I should probably go,” Appius said, taking the helmet from her. “I think we…” the Taldryan Consul gazed at the bounty and sighed heavily. “I’ve caused enough trouble.”

“Probably.” Zuza hummed, looking down at the prisoner as well before back up at Appius. She contemplated for a moment, not knowing him well enough to be able to discern what was going on but instead offering query.

“Do you want to go?”

Doon’s golden eye squints at the two distant figures, watching them silently. His arms crossed over his chest as he bears the heat to watch over the encounter.

“I will help with the droid revival process, if we are allowed that is.” Mex chimed in.

“Indeed it has, and dragged in, likely accurate,” the desert woman lit up at Xathia’s memory. Her exotic Socorran accent was thicker than ever, the R’s rolled precisely and every syllable over-enunciated. She gave her a single critical eye before nodding to the Kiffar making her way over. “You look good. This Diy by the way, she loads of fun. And this is Xathia, also loads of fun. Karkin’ fun fight too.”

Mex awkwardly sprung up to help Zig with one of the droids, clumsily grabbing one and dragging it over to the table, bumping into the chair on arrival. They then hefted the droid with their weak arms up and onto the table, before turning their big compound eyes to Avery.

“Hi Avery, scrap droids are here.” he gestured for him to come over as it seemed he was interested in helping.

Her laughter is a short bark, as she winks at the aforementioned ‘Diy’ over her shoulder. “I spend more time with computers and droids than in a fight these days. Easier to send a droid in to get hurt than myself, but I’m normally an excellent puppeteer,” she smirks, putting her empty glass down on the bar. “I’m also a lot softer than I used to be, but thank you. You look good as well. Tis strange to see such a mix of Brotherhood members, then again much changed in my absence. I’m glad to see there’s still some of the good ones that didn’t get caught up in their pasts. What’s your poison?”

“No poison today, if I can keep away from the raava. On the clock for Blue and Green Pee-cons over in the corner.” She slightly gestured to Cora and Ruka. “I’ve done.. a lot since last saw you. But not much lately, was in coma for some four years. Til I train back up I having fun puppeteering as well. Almost needed to a min ago. But Zig, she’s beast.”

“She truly is, and ya sure keep it spicy too” Diyrian grinned, crossing her legs where she sat on the bartop. The green-haired Kiffar flashed a smile towards the Ka'tey and gestured for her attention before extending her hand out to Socorra’s friend. “Nice meetin’ ya, Xathia. A bud of Socks is a bud of mine.”

“I kinda have too. I came searching for this scumbag…” Appius gave the prisoner a stiff kick for good measure. “So I gotta take him back to the nearest prison. Preferably something on an asteroid. I hear those have lovely views.”

She takes the offered hand firmly and shakes it brusquely. “As long as you don’t stop me drinking and enjoying the free shows them everyone can stay in my graces,” she grins, placing the empty glass down on the bar to wait for her refill. “You remind me of my daughter, she likes to sit on bars and dance on them, and anything that isn’t civil,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “But I’m glad you’re keeping well.”

“Could always nip back. That or stick him in whatever hold you have and delay the delivery. Doubt you’ve got a time limit on him.” Zuza suggested, “Mm. Up to you, but…”

She dug through her pockets, eventually pulling out a piece of paper and holding it out, “We never exchanged comm codes. So if you do head out now, and later decide you do want to hang out with a friend, offer stands.”

Druzk visibly tensed from the touch of a passerby. It wasn’t accidental. The Barabel’s head immediately snapped toward the source, walking away from him.

The saurian pushed himself from the counter to join her and the rest of her group. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Noting that Diy had found a group to mingle with, Luka considered Diy’s mission to procure them a drink a bust. No harm though. They waved down the barkeep themselves and ordered two tall glasses filled with an amber cocktail.

They directed Bico to find someplace where they wouldn’t be underfoot, and the nexu found a quiet corner where she could observe. With both drinks in hand, Luka turned to follow where Doon had left. Not hard to find.

Luka held out the drink for him. “They call it a Rancor’s Toothpick. Helps calm the nerves.”

“As well as can be I guess. Erinos boys are all gone, the whole fam. Ironic, now that Mandos litter the Brotherhood.” She didn’t need to point around the cantina to prove her point. “I’m the last, go figure. What about yours? What, where are you?”

Socks eyed him curiously. The new blood that was messing with Zig. “Sure. I’ll take black sunrise, thanks.”

Although it wasn’t particularly ‘her scene’, Živa found herself pressed to enter Mos Kenny’s… charming public house for the purposes of replenishing her water, which was starting to run dangerously low. A benefit—if it could be called that—to come of this little excursion would be the touching of elbows with the less domestically inclined, maybe even garner some scraps of information on the local geopolitical situation. But she doubted it. With this pessimistic mentality in mind, Živa mounted the steps up into the establishment and quietly made her way in over to the bar. Taking a free seat, the Zygerrian motioned the Togruta behind the table over and curtly asked for “A glass of water.”

Doon’s attention was momentarily pulled away from the distant figures and towards the approaching person offering drinks. He looks at the liquid, surely anything would be refreshing after standing out in this heat. Alcoholic or not. But now isn’t exactly the time to dull his sense. He’s busy watching. He looks back across the sands to the distant ship.

A few moments passed before his shoulders sagged and he took the drink. He gave it a sniff, then eyed the person who approached once more. Small. was about all that came to his heat muddled mind as he began taking hearty swigs from the tall glass.

“I have scrounged up pieces before, but I’ve only ever got them working enough for functional movement, not be programmed instructions.” Mex stated disappointingly. Shrugging at their own disappointment to reassure them self they continued, “People still buy what I fix up though, probably have replacement chips that I lacked. Maybe I am just missing a trick or two. You can show me?” he asked curiously.

Sarai walks into the Cantina looks around at everyone inside and seats herself at the end of the table near the door to observe

Druzk eyed the human right back. He gestured towards the Diyrian. “She touched me.”

A dark eyebrow raised. “Good touch? …bad touch? And does that mean you’re not getting my drink?”

Her canteen newly refilled, Živa clipped it to her belt and downed the glass of liquid the Togruta behind the bar had lazily issued her before turning on the establishment proper and giving the room a cursory once-over. It was, for the most part, fairly busy, and the ideal table to observe everything discretely had been taken by a human, or near human. She couldn’t tell from this distance. Mentally shrugging to herself, and smoothing back her blue hair, Živa made her way over and politely, if guilelessly, asked the lady, in Basic – an Anzati. “Mind if I join you?” The query, however, sounded more like a statement, and Živa had sat herself opposite the woman before she could object. The Zygerrian’s cool golden eyes raking over her new ‘companion’ for a moment, before seemingly losing interest and turning her gaze over toward the bar.

“I am not getting you anything. I am not the bartender,” he said flatly.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Teikhos said, leaning into towards the Human woman and Druzk. “You, too, friend. What’s your poison?”

Sarai inclines her head to the Zygerrian woman as her violet eyes study the occupants of the bar with a seemingly military eye

Luka smiled up at the large Shistavanen, content that they had drawn their attention for a moment at least. When they drank from their own glass, they frowned and looked the glass over. “Must have thought I was too young to order that. Drifter’s nightcap. Figure a man your size would have no problem with it, but this is nearly water. Well, at least it’s cold.”

They looked out towards the ship that had held Doon’s focus. “Tattooine never changes… Can keep on alert all night. Or we can trust that everyone else will have an eye out for themselves.”

Her attention drawn back to her untoward companion, Živa arched an eyebrow at the Anzat, she expression otherwise impassive. The “what” was left unsaid as she leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

She held her burn-scarred hands up in defense. “You did ask if you could help us.”

“Ok!” Mex responded, before instantly going to town on the droid with his bare appendages, completely unaware that Zig had handed Mex her hydrospanner. As a scavenger that frequented Tattooine, Mex was well acquainted with being low on tools and having to take a manual approach. Cleanly yanking out the battery cable with his grippy insectoid hands. lazily throwing the burnt wire out onto the table, they grabbed one of the replacement wireds and got it placed neatly from the battery to the rest of the circuit-board.

It was only then when the verpine looked at how they were going to solder it into the plate did they realize that Zig had handed them their hydrospanner. “Oh! Thank you!” Mex stated before carefully grabbing the tool and soldering the fresh wire into the droid cleanly, before handing the tool back.

“Thanks, mate. Just water for us two, and whatever Xathia drinks.”

Avery smiled at Mex and Zig working together as his expertise were more useful for ships or generators.

Eilen pulled up a seat next to Mex and drew her toolkit off her back. “More supplies,” she said cheerily, splitting it open. With a smile toward Mex, she stated in his own manner of speaking, “This… is an engineering pack. Eheh.”

Her eyes drew down to another droid Zig had rolled up to the table, one of the smaller fellows with the cute pointy ears and large belly. LEP-series service droid. “…Hrm. How much you wanna bet the line between your motivator and the gyroscopics got fried. Those things aren’t made for more electricity than they’ve already got flowing through…” Her voice trailed off into silence as she fished out a flathead to pop open the droid’s shell.

sighs and turns her attention to the woman beside her. “Sorry old habits, as a former admiral I tend to watch everyone more than I probably should.” Sarai absentmindedly brushed the hilt of her lightsaber on her left hip

The towering black Shistavanen rumbles once more, as he speaks. “I only have so many of those. I’d prefer to keep the one I do have busy watching something important rather than staring at the wooden bar.” He then examines his apparent new drinking companion. His single golden eye scanning them over curiously. His nose twitched once more, not quite able to catch too much of a scent outside in the heat, but he recalls what he did pick up on inside. “Have we met before? Your scent is somewhat familiar.”

“Mmm, still married to Celevon. Though I spent 8 years raising our son out on some backwater world to get some peace, and pretending to not exist in official capacity. Didn’t know he was still watching. Not in the creepy stalker way, just more of the ‘if anyone touches my kids’ way,” she rambles, rolling her hand as she continued. “Less paperwork to stay married, and our son adores the explosions they make in an alchemy lab,” she trails off with a shrug. “Means I can get on with my jobs at least, and Rhys gets excited to have a father in the picture. And I’m in Scholae Palatinae. Where I did most of my training up to Knighthood anyway. Somewhere quiet I can do my thing.” She pauses and then looks up at the bottles behind them, pointing out a specific high end rum on the top shelf. “And that is what I drink please,” she adds to the Zeltron.

Humming non-committally, the Zygerrian stared a little while longer, eyes drawn to the wretched blade at this ‘former admiral’s’ waist. Eyes narrowing incrementally for an instant, a switch was flipped, as if she’d suddenly become a social creature. The actual thought-process behind it being ‘Perhaps you’ll provide something interesting.’ “One ought never to make excuses for one’s self,” The Zygerrian’s accent obvious, but muted with travel, smiling a smile that didn’t quite seem genuine. “though I’ve not seen your like so frequently. What brings you to this… place.” The word seemed to ooze a slight contempt for the establishment and the town beyond.

“Oh! Hi engineering pack. I have to buy one for myself I think. Looks useful.” Mex chattered to Eilen’s bag.

Sarai’s violet eyes narrow as she takes in the abrupt change in the Zygerrian’s demeanor. Reaching out with the Force to Ziva, Sarai tries to sense the meaning behind the sudden change. She locks eyes with the other woman.

Eilen went to decouple the line she’d indicated, when suddenly the outer ring of its gyroscope on the line’s far end snapped. She gasped. “Oh no, nononono no, frak!” Her hand ran through her hair a bit frantically. “Uhh– Uhhh I need an arc welder!” Her ears fell flat as she grimaced at herself. “Sorryyyy…”

Avery lowered himself to one of the fallen droids, pulling out his hydrospanner. He was a little nervous as he rarely worked on droids. It turns out the similarities between a generator and droid were surprising and he was making strides in bringing the SE-2 Worker Droid back to life.

He heard Eilen’s swear and reached around on his utility belt to retrieve the arc welder. “Here you go,” Avery said with a smile. “Just be careful, it gets ridiculously hot.”

Eilen subconsciously reached for the arc welder, only realizing after she grabbed it that it was Avery’s. “Oh, uh… th-thanks.” Zig’s reassurance helped a bit. She inhaled and went back to work, more carefully.

Mex sauntered over and peered over Eilen’s shoulder, curious as to what went wrong.

“Eight years? Really been that long?” She shook her raven head. “Nice to hear Cel is good. No kids here. Marick married someone else and had baby while I was down and out. Imagine that.”

They gave a shrug. “Fair. Better to keep your attention on something intriguing.” They were beginning to wonder if they had chosen the one person they should have rather left be. But those people tend to be the most interesting once prodded. From the exchange they had seen earlier, that was quite a man to prod. It made them all the more curious to see how he would be once he loosened up a bit.

“I think we met briefly during the ice cream social. There was a lot going on, so I dont blame you for forgetting my face. Not as colorful a disposition as some of the others here, I’m sure. I like to keep it that way. At least until the fun starts.” They think back on the ice cream social, and all of the drama contained. It had been a lot for one day. “I believe Diy introduced us.”

The presence drew Eilen’s attention. Suddenly, she felt a little more pressured. Mex was making a sweet impression; she hoped her clan was doing the same. “…I, uh… was going to replace this line, but… I snapped a ring, here. But I think I can fix it…” Turning back to her work, the half-Selonian gritted her teeth with a hiss and carefully inched the arc welder toward the tiny components.

A small touch, a tiny soldering job - very easy to screw up with such a small component, but her care was rewarded with adequate success. Eilen exhaled hard. “Okay.” She looked back to Mex over her shoulder and grinned. “Want to help?”

He thought for a few seconds, then nodded in response. “Perhaps it was her. I found myself quite busy that day. Diy’s to blame for most of it.” He growled out in a simple manner, then let out a long breath, almost a sigh.

He fully turned to face them, then he extended one massive paw in an offer to shake. “Doon Sulvir.”

Mex was like the proverbial kid at a candy shop, spare parts, a bunch of broken droids, and a lot work to do getting them fixed. It was always hard to tell due to the bug-eyed look for some, but they were evidently in their comfort zone. They noted Eilen’s control at handling the small component complimented it. “Impressive motor control!”

The verpine then nodded their head approvingly in response to Eilen’s question, distractedly leaving Zig to the mouse droid like a distracted womp rat switching between two crumbs of food. “Yes, yes. I will help.”

Standing up after the woman in front of her fell asleep during questioning Sarai sees a familiar face and walks over to Avery and studied the problem he was working on

As Avery was finishing his handy work on the droid, he noticed someone familiar nearby. He remained focused until he heard the familiar whirring of the Droid coming back to life.

The man rose to his feet as the droid booted back to life, looking to the familiar face. “Sarai! A pleasure to see you again.”

“It’s a good thing I’m no party pooper,” Diy had returned when their hands parted, internally disappointed there was no ring or bracelet to touch. Not the married type or one to flaunt it? She would’ve gotten an answer if her attention hadn’t shifted to the shadow that fell over her. The Barabel from before.

Diy offered them a welcoming smile, letting it fall into a mildly confused but placating face as the man accurately accused her of touching. “I’m sorry, mate. If I brushed into ya, I truly didn’t mean to – was fixing the suit.” The Kiffar pointed down at the noted sleeves on her lap. The same hand waved and remain raised as she spoke, “But look, why don’t I buy ya a drink? Fer any offense caused, yeah?” The man had threatened someone earlier and by the vibes she’s feeling right now, guessing probably over nothing. Her blue-green gaze didn’t leave his as she uttered a brief thanks to Socks for the water.

Sarai nods to Avery, and smiles. “Nice to see you as well.. I hope you’re doing alright after our last meeting?”

“I’m quite swell, thank you. How about you?” He asked, placing a hand on one hip.

“I’m doing well, I’m here because I’m tracking a ship from a battle I witnessed a few days ago. It landed on the desert a few clicks away.” Sarai answers back

“Oh? Can’t be the same Diy. Straight and narrow, that one.” They mirror innocence perhaps a bit too well. It almost seems that they do not know the same person for a moment before Luka’s wicked smirk turns the corner of their mouth. They shake the offered paw with a nod. “Luka Zarkot. Pleasure to meet you, Doon. Any friend of Diy’s is a curiosity of mine. Now, how ‘bout I get you a better drink?”

“Glad to hear it,” Avery stated warmly. “Oh? I would offer to help but I am mortifyingly underdressed.” He gestured to his outfit of his button-up and slacks outfitted with his utility belt and suspenders.

Doon’s paw was.. Surprisingly soft. The grip was strong, secure, but his fur seemed to be quite well taken care of. If it wasn’t for the grip, it might be comparable to sticking a hand into a cloud. After the shake, he casts one last look over his shoulder towards the ship and the two distant figures speaking. He then nodded and turned back to Luka. “A real drink would be nice. Too many.. things, happening.” his eye flicked to the door to the cantina “I’ll follow you, Zarkot” he rumbles as he nods towards the door.

Druzk eyed the Kiffar, unamused. He wasn’t going to turn down a free drink, though. “Fine.”

Luka’s touch lingered a moment longer than they meant to. Habits of a psychometrist. Not that they were nosing into anything in particular. That would likely come later with more drinks and consent to do so. No doubt Doon was used to the Kiffar’s antics by now. Luka learned from one of the best.

“Call me Luka, darling,” the human teased as they led the way back to the bar. “No need to be stiff around me. I’m an open book after getting acquainted. Now, let’s get you a real Rancor Toothpick. Perhaps you can convince them we can handle it, hm?”

“A'ight, what’s yer poison, big guy?” Diy asked, uncrossing her legs and sliding off the counter. The Barabel’s towering height even more apparent now that they were both standing next to each other.

Doon Chuffed softly as they stepped back into the bar, his golden eye scanned the room to see what might have changed. No one’s dead. That’s… Good.

He stayed mostly quiet as they walk to the bar, taking a spot next to Diy and Socorra, but he let Luka decide if he wanted to sit between them or on his side. For the moment, Doon stood between stools at the bar. His eye watched his claw slowly tap the wooden surface, obviously a bit distracted by the previous goings on as he waits for Luka

Socks removed a cigarra from her robes and held it between two fingers for Doon. “As promised. Nobody dead out there, sah?”

Druzk crossed his arms, orange eyes trained on hers. “Surprise me.”

“No one dead, but…” Luka took a seat beside Doon at the bar and looked over to Diy. “You left me dry back there, darling,” they said to the Kiffar with a mock pout. “Brought our friend back, though.”

They leaned on the bar and waved over the ‘keep. No doubt they were already irritable with all the adventure for their small cantinas, so Luka cautiously requested a stronger drink. A good tip certainly assisted in elevating the mood.

“One for me, one for my new friend, and- Diy, care for a drink? Do you have one?”

Doon looked over at Socorra, his eye a bit distant before he focuses properly on her. He extends his arm, accepting the Cigarra between two sharp claws. He holds it to his nose, taking in its scent before sticking the end into his mouth and gently chewing on it, making sure not to completely shred it between his teeth. He then looks down at Luka speaking and nods, confirming his words as if his presence wasn’t proof enough.

Diy’s grin twitched. Somehow those two words seemed like a challenge, one she wouldn’t mind playing. Before she could move to order, the soft drawl of Luka’s voice demanded her attention. “Sorry, Babes. I’ll make it up ta ya, promise.” She flashed a grin, equally to Doon as it was to Luka. “Actually have a hydro on the rocks comin’, but pickin’ somethin’ fer the big fella here.”

Diyrian leaned against the counter, turning her attention towards Ka'tey. “How ya doin’ now? One Kowakian Rum, please.” She pointedly flicked her gaze towards Teikhos’ direction and mouthed with a wink, ‘On his tab, he’d offered.’

“Indeed he did,” scoffed Zxyl, having turned his back to his female companion temporarily and his eyes trained on Appius the entire exchange. He’d probably have words with the man later…. But for now, a drink! Turning around and without disconnecting the self contained breathing apparatus lines from his helmet, Zxyl pressed the helmet release button hidden behind them. With a small hiss, the Mandalorian’s helmet shifted ever so slightly. Bes'uliik grabbed his drink with one hand and bottom of his helmet with the other, lifting it free of his horns and revealing his mouth. He turned the helmet on his head slightly, making room to take a swig of his drink before resecuring his helmet.

“How are you enjoying the Aedile life?”

Luka sniffed their drink when they received it, still not quite sure if it looked the way they had remembered. Given the last time they’d been offered one was by a drifter several years ago, their memory was fuzzy. They took a big gulp of the drink, waiting for that familiar burn… there. But not quite the same as they had remembered. They looked at the barkeep with an eyebrow raised. They knew better than to insult an owner of a cantina, but they were expecting a certain level of turpentine-like swill and they were disappointed. Good? Bad? They weren’t sure.

“Starting to get there, ” they said to Doon. “Thought these were stronger back when I last had them.” They shifted their attention fully to him, their chin cupped in their palm as they leaned on the bar. “Though that smuggler might have just wanted to beat me at Pazaak, now that I think about it.”

Appius thought about it for a moment. Maybe he could do something. His pride, or what little there was left of it, demanded he walk back down there lime a proud Mandalorian and make amends.

No sooner had he had the thought that the middle aged man squirmed from the Mandalorian’s grasp.

“I’M FREE!” the prisoner exclaimed as he ran back down into the bar.

“Well…” the Taldryanite started as he looked to Zuza. “Frakk… I better go back and get him. Maybe this time I won’t make a scene.”

Appius shot the young woman a small smile before walking in after his folly.

“I believe in ya Appius!” Zuza smiled back, watching the prisoner run with mild confusion and commenting to herself as the mando went after him, “I don’t think he knows the bartenders will kick his ass if he goes for the back door. Poor bloke just trapped himself.”

She snorted, and followed after the Mando, although this time with intent to say hi to more than one person. Kark only knows she needed the distraction.

“Ouch, I’m not sure I would have handled that level of news with any grace, even if I did the running,” she claps Socorra on the shoulder in sympathy before lifting her refilled glass to her lips. “Looks like you’ve made some new friends at least,” she smiles wryly. “And ones who don’t try to destroy the bar too.”

Sarai goes back to the table she was at and sits back in her seat and just watches everyone

Doon likewise swallowed his back, then let a light growl out in response to what burn there is. His ever snarling expression was still present, but it’s settled back into his average resting snarl face. He popped the end of the cigarra back into his teeth to chew and pull the flavor from the stick.

He leaned down onto the bar, the wood creaked as he rested his, and his armors, weight on the edge of it. With his forearms crossed on the counter, his armor didn’t offer him much place else to look besides the wood, Luka, and those behind Luka. His ear swiveled around, listening for any undue noises as he settled into the bar.

“Starting to get there? Where is it we’re headed?” He rumbled out, head tilted slightly as he eyed their posture on the bar next to him. “A drink is a drink. But it sounds like that smuggler wasn’t too good at smuggling if they needed extra creds.”

In short order, two glasses were set in front of Diyrian. She picked up one filled with an amber liquid. The aroma thick and sweet just like she remembers it tasting. Pivoting, she offered it to the Barabel with a half-grin that shifted her golden clan tattoos across her cheeks. “Ever had Kowakian Rum before?”

She took up her own glass, filled with the supposed ‘tired’ water which if she had to guess had some drowsy effect. It’s like drinking alcohol without the fun and flavor. Diy downed it, probably best after traversing who know how long in the desert after Luka, seriously could of taken speeders with us. This…was just water. The woman was begining to think the tavern took marketing advice from those core region space stations and there twenty cred eight ounce water canteens. Make it fancy, it’ll sell. She nearly rolled her eyes and a huff of amusement escaped at her own musing.

On to better things! She extended her hand to her new companion here, “Never introduced ourselves . Diyrian, but call me Diy, Big Scales. And you?”

Tracinya lifted her drink as Zxyl did the same. She tilted her head back and proceeded to down the rest of ale, in her haste spilling some down her chin and on the table. The Sith placed the empty glass back down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s been an interesting experience so far. Though the administration side of things is duller than an old Bantha with no legs.”

The Aedile’s hand slid into the small satchel on her belt, producing a lighter and a fresh cigarra. She placed the tabac stick in her mouth and deftly lit it, slowly exhaling the smoke whilst tapping the ash onto the table.

“Still I think it’s always a lot more rewarding to be leading from the front. Not from an office or the bridge of a Star Destroyer.”

Tracinya momentarily turned her head to face the bar, motioning towards the barkeeper for another fresh ale.

“I’d have thought being on the Dark Council would have kept you constantly bogged down in paperwork.”

Upon entering the bar yet again, Appius opened up his senses to the spectrum of the Force. Sure enough, there was a wave of apprehension regarding his re-entering of the establishment. No fear, just caution, with Wa'yne in particular taking note of him.

A huge smirk of mischief lit her ruby lips and Socorra beckened Appius over to the bar.

Zuza’s entry was a few seconds later, shivering slightly as the cool air hit her once again.

But she wandered over towards where a surprising amount of her fellow arconans were sitting, including two of the new recruits. A smile crossed her face, glad to see them getting to know everybody already, before settling against the bar and ordering Twin Sun’s Storm.

“It does, vod… But everyone needs to blow off steam somehow,” the gunmetal grey pauldrons of Zxyl’s armor raised as he shrugged his shoulders, “If all I did was paperwork, I could hardly call myself Mando'ade. And while some may enjoy it, that is no way for me to live. I live for the kyrbej and all that comes with it, good or bad.”

Zxyl once again disconnected his helmet apparatus, this time finishing his drink instead of just taking a large swig. As he re-secured and sealed his helmet, he turned his upper torso and neck to see Appius had re-entered the cantina and was being beckoned by the cloth-covered woman who bore the spear.

“How did you come across your beskar, Tracinya? Family heirloom, or re-appropriated from a dar'manda? It’s a bit of an interesting design. Fashion it yourself” he noted, motioning to the woman’s bare, exposed mid-section. It was good for that extra mobility and helpful on hotter planets such as Tatooine from what the Regent gathered looking at it, but he couldn’t help but feel it’d just be a the target of enemy combatants most of the time.

“Socorra Erinos,” she stuck out a darkly tanned and burn-scarred hand. “Everyone, this is Appius, Taldryan Consul. My companions are Doon, Diy, and Xathia. Arconans and former. While I cannot condone abuse of innocent droids, I give dramatic entrance B plus.” She spoke with a very thick, clipped Socorran accent.

“To be fair, they surrounded me. I gave him his bag of credits, should be enough to fix them. What’s up with him?” Appius pointed to Doon, who watched him intently. “I don’t suppose any of you have seen a middle-aged Human run through here? Scar over his eye, balding head, prisoner outfit, you can’t miss him.”

“Not seen him, but I’m suddenly very interested in said droids,” she shakes her head, a thick mane of braided hair following the path with the motion. “Had I known there were droids to be fixing, I wouldn’t have gone straight for the bar. But then again, alcohol,” she grins, placing her once again empty glass down. “What did those poor droids ever do to you anyway?” Her eyes immediately scan the scene before them, maybe it would be worth giving her services to the owners if it looked interesting enough.

“They looked at me funny?” Appius sheepishly said with a light chuckle. “It was just the heat of the moment and I wanted to make a point.”

Zuza grinned back to her, “I’d say it’s a classic.”

And it was one that never tasted quite as good as it did when on Tatooine. Though when other places call it Tatooine’s Storm, it wasn’t really too hard for her to work out why.

“Most droids look at you funny, it’s expensive to keep destroying them,” she scoffs dismissively, wrinkling her nose up as she folds her arms.

“But they are just so zapp-able!” Appius commented with a smirk behind his visor. “Seriously though, you ever dealt with one of those things from the Clone Wars? What are they called? Droidesa… Droideta…”

“I understand where you’re coming from, vod.”

Tracinya nodded her head at Zxyl. She passed the barkeeper the correct amount of credits as her new drink was set down onto the table. The Sith picked the glass up and took periodic swigs in-between the occasional drag from her cigarra.

She followed the Regent’s motions and looked down at her armour before facing him again with a slight grin.

“I made my last set of beskar'gaam with a durasteel alloy some years ago. After my buir disappeared I found bits of old armour in his belongings and managed to reform the beskar into what you see here. I didn’t have enough to make a full suit but thankfully I find it’s more comfortable now than when I was fully encased.”

The Sith leaned back into her seat and whipped a side glance across the bar to where Appius was stood. She was surprised to see him return after his previous outburst and also curious to see if it would happen again.

“Droideka. Repaired a few, they’re buggers to break through the shields, but excellent for training to make sure you’re up to snuff. Most people learn by pain avoidance,” she nods.

“Seriously, a bar? I do not see why you refuse to take me with…” Mune entered the bar, speaking in Togorian into their comm. “I do dangerous things all the time. Do not cut off the…”

Cursing in Shista, they shoved the comm into their robes and cast around curiously. They expected to know no one; much to their surprise, they knew more than a few folks patronising the establishment. They willed their ears upright and tail to stop twitching in irritation. With a calming breath, their tail relaxed to swish softly behind. He is so getting an earful later, they thought with an internal grumble. “Refuse to take me on a mission because I will get myself hurt…” the short Shista mumbled all the way to the bar in their native tongue. By the time they arrived a the bar, their ears were down again and tail twitching about in frustration. Those mumbles by then became about the heat and gods-forsaken sand.

It was everywhere! It made their skin itch under their fur, somehow getting into every opening of their armour. Itchy, sweaty, disgusting. Mune stood at the bar and motioned to the bartender, managing to get their ears partially up to avoid looking how they felt, miserable. “Glass of your best bourbon, please.” Order placed, they turned their attention to the nearby group of Arconans.

Zuza thanked her as she dropped of the drink, taking a good drink from it and humming. It was a burn, but damned it was a good one.

She looked around for where Zig had gone off to, happily noting that the captain had settled into the mechanical stuff. Fixing the bots Appius had wrecked. With a smile, she decided to leave Zig to it, looking for any lonely fellow patron and being granted the arrival of Mune.

She grinned to the shista, waving, “Heya Mune! How ya doing?”

It crossed her mind how odd it was for so many to be here by chance… but brushed the thought away. No point questioning it.

“Don’t be rude,” she chastised, “he standing right here. Name is Doon. If he wants to explain, that’s up to him.”

The Dathomirian smirked behind his helmet, “It’s certainly something. I’ve reforged my own several times… Something to do with being a perfectionist of sorts.”

He followed Tracinya’s eyes to Appius and the woman at the bar, letting them linger for a moment.

“And what do you know of that one?”

Mune’s left ear flicked,oh gods; there is sand there too!

A familiar voice caught their attention, and the familiar grin helped dispel some of their agitations… some, not all. The sand was everywhere! Mune gave a polite wave back in greeting, “Well enough, and yourself, Zuza?”

When the drink arrived, Mune took a small sip just to taste its sweetness playing along their taste buds and the slow burn of it running down their throat to warm their stomach. They made a mental note to drink slowly and savour it. Their ears finally came the rest of the way up, perked and listening to the idle conversations around them. Their tail swung loosely, calming down enough to finally relax some. It was curious how many Arconans were about.

“Son of a—” a voice began with the shrill clipped notes that often accompanied panic. It originated from just outside the building and was interrupted by a tangled mass of limbs falling through the entryway. The red-skinned man lay there for a moment, perhaps pondering the deeper meaning of what could possibly be mixed with the dirt he was graced with the opportunity to inspect up close. “Ow,” he settled on saying before hopping back to his feet with a surprising amount of alacrity considering his entrance.

Patting himself off, Nejj Ithurinos glanced around with his golden eyes flitting between faces. A quick mental note was made for each of them before he rose to his full height, then immediately drooped into a lackadaisical slouch. His indigo curls fell across his eyes only to be flicked out of the way. Settling his thumbs into the belt loops at his exposed hips, Nejj made his way towards the bar. He really needed a drink.

“Her?” Tracinya asked, looking over at Socorra quite intensely for several moments before returning her attention to the Regent. “No idea, I’ve never seen her before.”

She sipped her ale, shuffling in her seat.

“As for why ori'vod is talking to her, I’m not sure either but I’ve always known him to be quite the social type.”

Teikhos glanced up from the game on his datapad and took in the newcomer. “You ok over there, big shoots?”

“Me? Fantastic. Great even. Couldn’t be worse. Wait—better? Better,” Nejj responded at a breathless pace, plucking a credit chip out. He drummed quickly on the counter and tried to make eyes at whomsoever held sway over his access to liquid goodness.

“…can’t leave for five frakking minutes before someone–” the words became intelligible, their speaker discarding Basic in order to rant fully in his mother tongue.

“I do not think anyone was even intoxicated yet, angel,” his partner tried to soothe, though his own expression conveyed severe disappointment while still being polite and gentile about it. “Well…not visibly, at least.”

The pair surveyed the room, having only gone off to the market to visit the vendor whom Ruka had once traded his emerald dagger briefly, it seemed, before things had gotten excitable. Neither Proconsul seemed to be in any mood, though Ruka’s displeasure with the lightning-armored Taldryan Consul was much more evident. Nevertheless, it seemed none of their own charges, nor any of the patrons or citizens, were hurt. Droid damages not withstanding. If someone had not already offered to pay for those, they would.

It was crowded. There was some mingling. Zuza and Mune now. Eilen, Zig, fixing droids, one new recruit helping and another drinking with Diy. Avery, Luka, several Mandalorians and a woman watching alone from her table. A Zeltron falling in the door while another called to him. The couple made for the gaggle of the most Arconans, Cora looking to Doon with softer concern, Ruka between Socorra and Appius.

“Is everyone alright?” was the first question, though Socorra had assured Ruka of as much when she’s reached out telepathically to inform her superiors of an incident. The Mirialan offered her back her spear.

Zuza wandered over, leaning on the bar besides Mune and sipping her drink again. “I’m great. Love a busy bar.”

The lie felt weak, but it’d do so long as no one looked too close. The strain of the day was hidden barely beneath the merriment of friends and desert heat.

She noticed the flecks of sand freeing themselves of Mune’s fur and smiled sympathetically, “Though I don’t have fur to deal with around so much sand. How do you even get it out?”

Mune brushed their claws through the fur between their ears, shaking loose still more sand. They let out an exasperated huff of frustration. “Multiple showers and so much brushing,” they said by way of answer. “Until then, it itches to high heavens. I hate sand… It even got in under my armour!”

The Shistavanen sipped their own drink, not in any hurry to empty the glass. “Well, if Caleb was going to drop me to go complete his mercenary work… least I ended up among clan mates rather than a bar full of strangers.”

The Pantoran stepped closer to Doon while his husband glared the Taldryan Consul down with a balefulness bordering on disgust.

“Mister Sulvir,” Corazon murmured delicately, sure to speak towards the Shistavanen’s good side. “My deepest apologies, we were away, but we heard…Are you well? Do you need anything?”

“Oh yes, we all good. Learning manners, in fact, and casually meeting Taldryans, absolutely nothing odd about that at all.”

Socorra was still rocking mischief in her smile as she slowly stood and accepted her beskar spear back, setting the simple but elegant weapon down on the ground with a loud resonating ring. The woman leaned on it only very so slightly and cleverly hid the need in her stance.

“And,” she started again, clearly looking Appius from head to toe with her one arctic eye, “meeting another Mando'ade perhaps.”

What do you drink? she asked the Human in Mando'a, testing him. Her harsh accent was thick but the language itself was accurate.

Cora was talking to Doon, which was a good thing, considering Cora could calm down a rancor without trying. The woman noticed the shista was still chewing on her cigarra, waiting for a light.

“Apologies Doon, let me light for you.” She beckoned for it with two fingers. “Oh.. I terrible with intro too. Lords Corazon and Ruka (etc), Pee- er Proconsuls of Arcona. And Appius Wight, Consul of Clan Taldryan.” If there were any sort of formalities it was clearly lost to the void while she busied with the cigarra.

The Barabel’s eyes stared down to the glass offered to him by the Kiffar. “No. I haven’t,” said Druzk with a grumble. A clawed hand reached for the drink offered to him and downed it in one fell swoop as if it were just water.

“Not bad,” he admitted. Sweet. Nice burn down the gullet. He placed the empty glass against the bar and looked back to Diy, noticing her extended hand.

“Druzk.” He extended his hand a met hers, maybe a bit too firmly.

“Interesting,” the Reaver murmured, before proceeding to order himself a double round - and a second for Tracinya as well. He nodded at the woman across the table as she gave her preliminary opinion on her fellow Taldryanite - and Consul.

“Indeed he is… What else?” Zxyl queried, curious if there was more to it than she had let on, “Personally, it took me a long time to come to terms with him as a whole. Consul Wight shares the same ideals as a traditional Mando'ade… to an extent.. but I still find myself regularly disappointed. Just something that was hard-coded into me by my father. He was a harsh man and adherent to The Creed, but he took me in as a foundling and brought me up in our culture all the same…”

The Regent lowered his head - and his voice - for a moment.

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din.”

“Oh, me and him have met, but thanks, Socorra. ‘Learning manners,’” Ruka repeated on nearly a sneer, tone cold. “I’d have hoped you’d already know better, Wight, than to abuse your powers, endanger an entire room of people without frakking consequence, abuse people in your care, and explode half the property, but good to know how you must be teaching yours by example.”

“Good'n'you?” Nejj offered automatically, having hit up more than one local on the way in. “This get me a Hutt N’ Bru?” He asked, rolling a credit chip between his fingers.

Producing and igniting a small lighter, with nimble fingers Socorra delicately rolled the foot of the cigarra above the flame in slow, practiced twists. She finally took a long and passionate, satisfying draw. The woman marveled at the burning cherry for a moment, letting the smoke wisp and curl out of her mouth before blowing the cherry even hotter, finally handing it back to Doon. He would discover that it was, unfortunately, not spiced.

Nejj handed Ka'tey the credit, ensuring it was delivered reliably, before grabbing the drink. Liquor was definitely the best thing to get when thirsty. Not like water. What could possibly go wrong with liquor? After all, Nejj had two livers. Well, he was pretty sure he had two. The Zeltron flicked his eyes up in appreciation at Ka'tey before taking a solid swig from the glass.

Nejj raised a hand in acceptance whilst taking another sip of the Bru. That stuff hit hard.

Where he stood, Ruka closed his eyes and inhaled.

“Oh, dear,” Cora said too.

“No spice,” she rolled her eye and handed the Mirialan her glass. “And I drinking water, pfft. Stay hydrated, Ruka.”

“Not to be a stereotype but it’s against my code to turn down a shot,” Teikhos said.

Zuza made a sympathetic groan.

“Yeah that stinks. I’m ok with sand personally ‘cept when it gets between my toes. Rubs so bad.” Zuza grimaced but looked over the Shista with curiosity a moment later, “Oh that’s where he got off to. Why didn’t he leave you on the Voidbreaker? It’s in orbit and everything.”

Nejj side-shuffled over to Teikhos and claimed a bar stool. “Code, you say?”

Mune snorted, “I was helping… then… well…” Shows off a bandaged arm and from the roll of his eyes, there may be more. “I miscalculated. Nothing I cannot heal. He dropped me here stating it was dangerous and so on and so forth…” What they do not say is that their head had been in the clouds when they got injured and Caleb decided for them that they would be safer left out of the rest of the mission.

“Over protective wall of fluff and… attitude… and…” he mumbles something in Togorian then huffs. “He is in for it when he gets back, I have you know.”

The Aedile nodded in gratitude at the additional drink. Wasting little time, she picked up her current glass and downed the contents all in one go yet again with little decorum. It had been awhile since she treated herself, and now might as well be an opportune time.

The grin slowly faded from her face as Zxyl spoke, by the time he had finished the girl visually tensed up. Her eyes had dropped to stare into the empty glass on the table.

“Aliit ori'shya tal'din.” Tracinya replied knowingly, her voice devoid of the usual confidence it carried. “My father was very similar, a follower of the creed and a fine warrior. But he was also a Sith. He taught me how to be the best I could be with these two different and sometimes conflicting viewpoints.

The Sith’s left hand tightened into a fist, crushing whatever life remained out of her lit cigarra.

"After he dissapeared I was at a loss.” She gestured towards the Taldryan Consul standing over by the other side of the bar in conversation. “If it wasn’t for Appius I probably wouldn’t be here now. He helped me out a lot, and I owe him a lot too, more than I would care to admit.”

Tracinya’s voice dropped down considerably lower.

“Still, there are times when I’ve doubted him. I feel like he can be…you know…a bit soft.”

“Not testing you. You’re on duty,” the Mirialan commented stiffly after a moment to realize what her statement had been in relation to. His deep breath had gotten him a reeking lungful, but it only tasted like cigarras smoke, booze, and sweat. Taking the glass and pointedly looking at her as he drained it, he passed it back. “Just bracing for this disaster.” With the hand still in the air, he gestured at the bar in general and the free shots being passed.

Corazon answered the barkeep for the both of them, shaking his head, “You can offer ours to others.”

“He is, without a doubt. Luckily, he has Ankira to harden him up a bit.. hopefully. I’m glad he found happiness.”

Zuza finally clicked on to the free shots, perking up and doing a finger guns toward Ka'tey.

With a chuckle, the Human shook her head in response to Caleb, “I’m certain he does. Although maybe not anything that’ll hurt that arm anymore eh?”

She contemplated for a moment, “And hey, its not turned out so bad. You’re here, with friends. And he’s stuck doing some mission.”

Mune waved away the mention of shots, they were perfectly happy with their glass of bourbon. They took another small sip, savouring the intricate notes. “Fair enough,” they responded, relieved she did not ask how they got injured. Maybe she was picturing some firefight and not what actually happened.

“I admit, I am glad there so happened to be friends here and not just a bunch of strangers.”

“I can drink to that.” Tracinya replied, her tone of voice returning to normal once more. “Say, how about we make this interesting…”

Sure enough the same sly grin from before worked it’s away across Tracinya’s face.

“I propose a drinking game, if you think you can keep up?”

Mex was busy toiling away on the droid they and Eilen were working on, but the verpine took the chance to look around the cantina again, it was so busy! Mex was so focused on the droid they didn’t realize how busy it had become.

Like the distracted bug they were, Mex took a look at the SE-2 Worker Droid that Avery was working on and sauntered on over. “Hi Avery. The work you have performed on that droid looks very professional. May I take a look or help?”

“That depends…” started Bes'uliik “Can I expect shenanigans and lewd the more intoxicated we get? Because if so… I am so down.”

The Dathomirian Mandalorian ordered two more full rounds for the two of them, and quickly drank the two rounds he had in front of him. It was a little awkward, with Zxyl having to constantly shift his helmet up and over to access his mouth for the glass.. but it was part of who he was.

Zuza took her shot once it got to her, knocking it back. It didn’t feel particularly strong, the Human shrugged as she placed it back onto the Bartop.

Admittedly, Zu was curious as to what happened. But asking about injuries in a public setting was a recipe for disaster, so she went for a different angle on the topic.

“Yeah. Folk from other clans too, the Consul bloke of Taldryan is here i know for sure. Tis a very good day for us to be on Tatooine apparently.”

He’d also take that free shot, while he was at it, having just noticed it in their intense conversation.

Mune nodded some, eyes travelling to where Appius was then back to Zuza. It had been quite some time since their paths had crossed.

“I would never have thought such a random, middle of nowhere place would attract so many folk from different clans… without something actually going on.” They grinned some, “And no one seems to be trying to stab anyone else.”

They eyed the droids, “Well… no one flesh and blood… I suppose.”

Teikhos grimaced as the Hutt'n'bru burned its way down his throat. I always forget how rough Rim liquor is. He turned to Nejj. “Jedi, actually. Though the bit about shots is a little bit of Zeltron culture I added.”

“You never know, if we do well enough we might even get kicked out.” surmised the Battlelord, joining the other Mandalorian in consuming the free shot and the one drink she had left before the new rounds. That was whatever wasn’t spilled over her at any rate.

“You’re the more experienced one, you should lead by example.”

“Yeah, Appius kinda freaked out. Nothing is happening, I only came out here cause I knew Cora and Ruka were here.” She spoke, doing her best to cover the cut off and awkwardness suddenly bubbling.

Jet. Kriff this sithspit.

“Not had a chance to say hi to them yet but its fine. Saw ‘em earlier. Lotta completely unconnected folk just appearing though. Who knows, maybe Wyn will show up and tell us he actually organised this.” She forced a chuckle.

“See you around,” Avery said and waved as Sarai left the area. He turned back to his handiwork that was the standing droid.

He beamed at the approaching Verpine, then gestured to the SE-2. “Have a look. It’s all nicely fixed up. Almost good as new.”

Socks whimpered at the announcement of free shots. It’s like Ruka had to remind her she was on duty. She turned around to the bar. “Can you make something not-fun that’s not fruity?”

“Not sure yet. We’ll find out when we get there.” They gave a playful grin. “Hoping to catch a smile on that face by the end of the night.”

They might have also eyed the returning Appius with some apprehension, but it seemed the droid-frying was in the past. And with more people whose titles Luka barely recalled joining the bar crowd, it was unlikely that further damage would occur.

They perked up at the mention of free shots, and rolled their eyes at the comment about bracing for disaster. They had already had lightning go off. Anything else would they imagined be pretty tame by dramatic standards. They swiped a shot from the bar and knocked it back, not once questioning why there were free shots. It was starting to feel more like a party, and there they felt more at home.

Mex bent towards the droid to observe the handiwork more closely, appendages clinked on the droid’s casing. “How do you keep the soldering so clean? And this here?” Mex pointed to the new chip. Did you craft a custom component? How did you do that? That does not look like a simple fix, is that a spare part, or something you worked up right here on the spot?“ the verpine asked like an over-curious student.

Snorts and grins, “Wyn magically appearing would shock literally no one… I am sure…”

They took another sip of their bourbon, rolled the flavour over their tongue. The sweetness followed by the warm burn as it washed down his throat making them sigh softly and relax.

“Well, as the ancient masters say, ‘Let the Force flow through you’ and if they didn’t want this drink to flow through me, they wouldn’t’ve seen fit to grant me two livers!” Nejj made his declaration with a mixture of reverence and proclamation before tapping his glass down and throwing it back in its entirety.

“I’m only twenty eight. Still in my prime,” declared Zxyl as he shotgunned a drink from the two rounds he has ordered for himself and Tracinya, motioning to her to do the same.

“What are the terms of our ‘game’?”

“Well Mex, I’m glad you asked.” Avery looked delighted as he began pointing to each component and began to explain. “The soldering takes a bit of practice but if you learn to steady your hands and find the right angle. The chip, I assume that’s where you were pointing, is just a product of me reestablishing the wire connections and you’re right, it was difficult. Much like dealing with patients, I would never consider anything ‘too easy’. Overconfidence could be a severe pitfall. But… sometimes I do a bit of cleaning on the spot, but that’s not always required.”

Doon’s ear perked as the door opens, but it wasn’t until Socorra beckoned towards it did Doon see who entered. Immediately his growl returned, rumbling like a muffled engine as he stared down the newcomer that had destroyed the droids. His lip curled into a more obvious snarl as he neared Socorra, but he made no moves to engage the man.

He barely glanced down at Socorra as she snagged the Cigar from his jaw, his rumbling still quietly roiling in his chest as she lights it, takes a hit, then pops it back between his canines. The Shistavanen’s rumble stops for a moment as he accepts the butt of the stick and takes a long drag, filling his lungs with the heated smoke.

His golden eye still burnt into the Force User on the other side of Socorra as he exhaled, two long plumes of smoke coiled through the air over her head. The light obscurant broke Doon’s focus long enough to realize he’d been asked a question, by his pack name no less. His eye dilated back to normal and dropped to Cora who had appeared out of somewhere.

“I am fine.” He growled, filling the air with another exhale of smoke, the overpower scent blissful for the moment it passed his nose. His fists had clenched, digging his claw tips into his palm unbeknownst to him. His heart pounded, attention maxed. His eyes flicked to the bar where he collected a shot, downed it, then returned to watching the armored figure across the bar.

Corazon’s brows furrowed, watching the Shistavanen watch Appius, growling and twitching and hands fisted tightly enough to leave blood on his shot glass.

“I…see. Mister Sulvir, perhaps I could offer some bit of calm? We rather have a better time doing our jobs when we’re calmer, I think, and I know you’re always looking out for everyone, especially when we Force Users are…belligerent. Do you recall matching your breathing with mine, during training? Would you like to do that now?”

She was never the type to turn down a free shot, especially since it was apparently coming with a show of other clans and their dramas, as the Sith pulled herself to sit on the bar and facing out towards the doorway, curious to see who else would fall in on the establishment.

The doors opened once again, alerting the tavern of another visitor to Mos Kenny. A dark, gold-trimmed cloak shrouded his features, save for the tall man’s pale hands flicking across a datapad. His features were partially obscured by the angular gold-silver visor shielding his eyes from the scorching rays outside. The hint of a scar could be seen just under the visor on one side while his grey-black hair was trimmed but swept into messy spikes off to one side. The man’s head tilted as he glanced from the datapad to the patrons of the bar. His tongue clicked when he noted Appius’ presence. On the other hand, a suspiration passed over his lips when he noticed Zyxl. Thane “Atra” Skotos didn’t seem super pleased, but he never seemed much of anything.

As Socorra had recognized some of the patrons from official holos and intelligence files, so too she recognized the Justicar. Her eyebrow raised a hair. This was getting good. She sipped on her non-fruity not-fun beverage and watched with curiosity, wondering how long it would take Appius to notice.

In that moment, Zxyl hadn’t turned towards the newcomer, but did have a fleeting feeling that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up under his armors bodyglove. He remained seated in his little corner, focusing a little too intently on the second round in front of him. He was waiting on Tracinya to take her “first” round of the two the Regent had ordered and dictate the terms of their drinking game. A slight warmness had begun to form in the merc’s chest, a feeling he had grown to know before his time in the Brotherhood all too well.

Doons snarl grew even more, jaw straining to not bite right through the Cigar. His burning eye swept back down to Cora, looking at him as if he was insulted. He then spun on his heel, facing the bar. His claws left his palm and replaced it with the bartop, digging into the wood as if he was about to be swept away by some tide. The shistavanen felt something stirring in him. Rage? No, he knew what that felt like. Nervousness? Again, no. Whatever it was tugged at his chest, drawing it tight, almost pushing him away from the bar toward Cora.

With a growl, his paw raised from the now marred wood towards the barkeep “Strong. Something. Strong.” he ordered as his Eye grew a bit unfocused, glazing over as he watched the reflection of the rest of the bar warp through the blood smeared glass. In an almost daze, he muttered a response to Cora “I’m not. Meditating. In the middle of a bar.” he spits the words out, an anger not meant to be directed at the man offering help.

“Alright,” Cora soothed agreeably, carefully and concernedly observing the much larger alien that seemed caught somewhere between rage and panic. “That’s alright, then, you do not have to. And I won’t do anything you don’t approve of. For what it is worth, though, you need not do anything. I would be… essentially breathing for you. But I understand you may not need that kind of help right now, or be able to accept it. That’s alright.” He offered a smile. “We’ll just have some drinks, won’t we? Pardon me, my Lady Barkeep? If I could just have two waters for my husband and I, thank you kindly, and whatever these gentlemen would prefer.”

A short inhale hummed through her teeth at the firmer larger grip. Diy cocked a grin, “With a grip like that, it’s a pleasure ta meet ya!” She leaned against the countertop, giving a quick glance over the Barabel and his attire. “What sort of business ya do, Druzk? Hm, bounty hunting? Hired arms?”

Having brought the troublemaker to the little Arc circle at the bar, Socorra left the mess she started and wandered elsewhere, eyeing the pair clearly in the middle of a drinking game.

“Gonna go make some friends,” she whispered to Ruka in passing, cleverly hiding herself leaning on the spear as she crossed the room to the table.

Thane made his way further into the bar, finding one of the few tables sans patrons. With one smooth movement, he sat down, removed his visor, and rested his arm—datapad in hand—on the table. A few other demonstrations of alacrity resulted in a message firing across the net towards the dearest old Regent. Should Zxyl notice, the singular word ‘explain’ would be waiting for him.

“You’d think anyway. We do have some new recruits here today though.” The Human gestured across to the table bearing the active repair job being worked on, and the Barbarel.

“So that’d be amusing to watch.”

Her eyes landed on the newest new arrival at a table, as he’d walked across her vision to get to his empty table, before she looked back to Mune with a smile.

Mune followed the Human’s glance to where the repair work was being done and nodded some. They eyed the group for a moment before they noticed the new arrival themself. Their glance shifted and stopped, taking in the sight of Thane at a table. They arched a brow, Huh.

Their attention snapped back to Zuza and returned the smile. “Let us be honest… things always get amusing when alcohol is involved… thus why I am only having one.”

They tipped the glass to Zuza then took another sip, “Do not like drinking in excess when not in the safety of familiar environs.”

Zuza noticed the slight shift in expression, eyes flicking back between them a few times curiously, “You know him?”

She did chuckle, tipping her own glass back and finishing off her original drink, before nudging the shista with an elbow “My dad only lives two towns over, I’m not particularly worried. Espeically when we have half the clan summit here anyway.”

Tracinya clutched her next drink tightly, watching Zxyl closely.

“I was thinking who ever gets through their drink the quickest wins. The loser has to buy the next round. That sound good to you, vod?” the Battlelord said. Her voice now a lot louder than she was probably aware.

From the corner of her eye the Battlelord spotted the woman who had previously been talking to Appius make her way across the cantina in their direction. She sat up straight, wary of the newcomer as she approached the two Mandalorians.

Zxyl - while he was waiting - looked over at Appius for a brief moment, then casually glanced around the room just as his datapad went off. It had been quiet this entire time, an insane rarity… he never had this much peace all at once. As he reached down to his belt to remove it, his eyes fell on Thane. His helmeted head remained locked in that position for a moment… But he knew. He knew why his datapad had beeped. Was he surprised? No.

Sithspit.

Activating the screen on his datapad, Zxyl pulled up the received message - with the singular word ‘explain’ written from the former Regent and his immediate predecessor - and then fumbled together a response, having to re-type portions of it a few times as gauntleted fingers tapped incorrect keys.

After sending a reply to the Brotherhood’s Justicar, a simple message asking who he was here for, and why, Bes'uliik dropped the datapad and did the same thing he had to do with every drink thus far - choosing not to wait on Tracinya - activate the depression on his helmet, which took him a moment to find as he poked around, lift it up, and turn it so that the self-contained breathing apparatus air lines were no longer an obstruction for his drink… And then quickly downed it, before resecuring his helm and ordering another round for the two Mandalorians.

The Shistavanen gave a noncommittal shrug of their shoulders as way of response.

They grinned some, “Ah, well, it is still a general rule of mine to be weary. I know we are not in enemy territory or anything but… caution and all that.”

“It does,” Zxyl noted, returning his gaze to Tracinya as she looked at the approaching woman. Something about that spear caught his eye.

Doon wrapped his oversized paw around the glass that was poured for him. Without a second thought, he tilts his head back and tosses the drink down his throat. That tug that enveloped his chest a few moments ago was singed away by the liquid, leaving a void behind. He slams the glass back onto the bar, but before he releases it he stands away from the bar, and starts trudging towards the door of the cantina, bumping a chair or two out of the way on his path, not quite reacting as he pushes outside.

As he steps into the heat, he looks down at his claws. One, smeared with blood and clutching a cigarra. The other full of broken glass. He clamps his jaws down on the Butt of the Cigarra and inhales, then looks around the town. In no particular direction he marches, finding a rock to sit on a ways from the entrance of the cantina. No longer does he care about the heat. He breaths slow puffs of smoke as he watches blood slowly drip from his metal claw tips. Piece by piece he drops the shattered glass onto the sand, eye once more glazing over as he watches the Dark red droplets splash against the shards and collect grains of sand

She stood in front of the table and smiled almost devilishly, looking from one to the other with her good eye, the other missing and scarred over behind a shock of white hair.

“Greetings,” Socorra started in Mando'a, the language accurate but the thick, harsh accent belying a much different heritage. Syllables were still over-pronounced but verbs and other words were less missing. “May I join you? I come bearing gifts of a free round.”

Zxyl raised his glass from the next round to the woman as an indication she may, setting it back down on the table a second later as he glanced over at his datapad, expecting to see another message from the Justicar momentarily.

Tracinya also nodded, gesturing to the available seat closest to Socorra.

“A fine gift it is. Take a seat.”

“Oh!” Cora gasped as glass was shattered against the bar top. It didn’t go far though; the pieces that didn’t embed in Doon’s hand as he fumbled and pushed outside were suspended in mid-air, Ruka’s hand having snapped out towards them. They lowered back down and collected in a neat little pile that dumped itself into the trash behind the counter.

“We’ll pay for that,” the Mirialan told the woman behind it too. “Sorry, ay.”

The Pantoran frowned, brows furrowed, and slowlg looked towards the door.

“I…should go check on him, perhaps.”

Ruka sighed, but squeezed his hand. “Yeah. You’re too good for all of us, love. I’ll be here.” His expression indicated just how excited he was about the prospect, especially with Socorra off to, probably, play games or collect whatever information she could out of anyone she spoke with. Both?

So decided, the pair split, Corazon heading into the heat to find Doon, Ruka staying in the bar to watch and possibly referee. Especially with two Dark Councillors now present.

Hadn’t Satsi once said something about that guy? But Satsi said a lot of kriff…

Thane’s black-gold eyes stared through the back of Zxyl’s helmet. Eventually, he blinked. Then again horizontally, his nictitating membrane sliding quickly into place then opening once more. His fingers danced across the datapad with vague allusions towards a reported outburst involving Taldryan’s Consul. He barely tapped transmit before the notification light blinked to life on the Regent’s device.

Doon sat on the scorched rock, Golden eye trained on the sand between his feet. Looking anywhere else wasn’t going to happen. Things kept moving, spinning, twisting like the reflecting in the glass.

The glass was where his eye was locked, watching as a particular broken shard focused the sun into a perfect beam pointed at a drop of blood. Fitting. he thought to himself, watching his blood begin to sizzle on the sand. He doesn’t look up or seem to notice the approach of Cora at all. Too many things were happening.

To an outsider, he sat still, unmoving. The smoke he exhaled neatly highlighting the sun beam boiling his blood.

“I’ll drink to that,” Teikhos mumbled as he tried to catch the bartender’s eye. “Ka'tey-cat, could we get another pour over here?”

He turned his case back to his new drinking companion. “Ancient masters, huh? Are you one of those monks I’ve heard about? What was it, Guardians of the Will?”

“A monk?” Nejj questioned with a raised brow. “That sounds boring. Incredibly boring. No, that’s not me. We each have our own path. A Golden Path. I was shown mine.”

The Zeltros made sure to signal his intent for a refill as well. “Now, help others find theirs.”

“Nothing wrong with being flashy,” Teikhos said. “You said you were shown it? Did you have a teacher or a vision or what?”

“Yes,” he replied, flashing a self-confident smirk fully aware of the double answer. “Chance befell me. Opportunity and reward. Knowledge being the latter. Made it my business to study and eventually it all just made sense.”

The Pantoran Jedi found Doon crouched by a rock in the beating sun, staring fixedly at blood drops and glass pieces in the sand, the only movement the smoke curling away from his mouth. His brow creased in sympathy, and, looking up and about, he adjusted his position until his shadow at least fell over the Shistavanen, blocking direct sunlight.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Content to wait, Cora stayed in his spot, doing simple toe stretches while his mind quieted, his own sort of meditation. He only adjusted slightly to follow the twin suns, but they were slow moving.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Teikhos replied with a smirk that blossomed into a full grin as Ka'tey came round with the bottle. The Togruta fill both their glasses with a wink.

“Might be nice,” the Jedi said. “I’ve been at this for years and ‘makes sense’ isn’t how I’d describe it.”

“They also say, ‘Truth is more valuable if it takes you a few years to find it’,” Nejj explained. “The drinks certainly don’t hurt along the way.”

“My master always used to say, ‘Don’t drink on an empty stomach, you red menace.’ Ka'tey, do you serve food here?”

“Food. Food is good.”

Bes'uliik verbally sighed as he lifted the datapad and read the message contained within.

Of course. Appius.

Zxyl pondered how to proceed.

Mune watched Doon leave, and Cora follow close behind. The Shistavanen sighed, shaking their head some. Finally having enough, the Shista shook themself violently, sending sand flying everywhere, getting a good amount of it out of their fur… minus that caught under their armour. They growled in frustration, “Desert planets! Gah!”

They grumbled and swallowed the rest of their drink. They padded back to the bar to place the empty glass down, “May I have a glass of water please?” they asked the bartender.

Perhaps they should be taking notes… There was quite a mix of folk about now, perhaps there is intelligence to be had. They’d be remise not to take advantage of the situation… record their observations. The Shistavanen grinned.

Tracinya picked up her mug and took a swig, taking another cigarra out of the satchel on her belt and lighting it.

“Back to business is is, vod?”

Druzk turned away from Diy and leaned against the counter himself. “You enjoy firm grips?” he questioned her, taking the shot that was offered to him on the table and downing it without hesitation. “I am a bounty hunter, yes.”

Apathy and annoyance were Emere’s companions as she watched the dramatic scene unfold. Why couldn’t she just have her water in peace?

She overheard Diy being… herself and Druzk eating it up. The interrogator rolled her eyes. “You want to put that so-called grip to the test, Scales? I’ll let you get back to the clan’s mount if you want to arm wrestle.”

After a few minutes, Doon would slowly look up at Cora. His eye took a few moments to focus through the spinning, narrowing slightly as he releases a half hearted growl. “you.. re. In my sun.” He mutters, then looks back down at the smoldering spot of sand. He take the cigar from his jaw, taps the ash off to his side, then puts it back where it was. A long slow breath pulls air through the cigar, then it’s slowly exhaled into a cloud around him. All of the rest of his senses are overwhelmed, his scent was the only thing he focused on, letting the smoke drown out his thoughts and cover the smell of hot sand.

“Wa'yne,” she hailed the ‘keep, “round for whatever they’re drinking’ on me, and whatever.. this.. is. Ka'tey made it.” The woman wasn’t sure if Wa'yne was actually serving but at least he’d inform the bartender.

“Not quite,” muttered Zxyl as he lowered the datapad - abiet a bit more quickly than intended, smacking it’s back on the table with a light thud as he pondered how to respond. A moment later, he was taking a drink from his beverage. Once everything was Gucci with his helmet his eyes settled on Appius, wondering how he should play this. But more importantly, who had already reported the Taldryan Consul’s actions to the Justicar and how did Thanetra get there so fast, unless he was already in the area.

A small bit of relief passed over the Regent’s warming chest due to the alcoholic beverages as he realized Thane was not there for him. In that moment, the Mandalorian decided maybe Appius needed a little lesson on how to represent.

Bes'uliik turned so his head was facing the Justicar, giving him a ‘go ahead, nod’ before returning his attention to the table - and their newcomer.

“What brings you to Tatooine? I assume by your deep discussions with that group,” he motioned over to the Arconans at the bar, “that you’re their clanswoman?”

Normally the Regent of the Brotherhood would just check, but he could feel his motor skills becoming less and less fine the more he drank, and didn’t wish to allude to that too heavily yet.

Luka watched Doon leave with a raised brow. Curiosity and concern tempted them to follow, but it seemed someone more familiar to Doon had already done so. Probably best to let them sort things out for a bit. There was likely some underlying venom bubbling near the surface, there. Something they had no knowledge of and would likely do best not to poke at.

They considered questioning Diy about it, but she seemed preoccupied with someone else. They ordered another drink to nurse as they glanced around the crowd for a spot of fun to squeeze into. So many conversations to overhear.

“Wow! That is fascinating.” Mex stated.

They spent the next twenty seconds at least staring at Avery, antennae twitching as the poor bug tried their best to think of a way to continue the conversation.

“Aye,” she replied, leaning her tall weapon on the wall behind and to the side of her before slipping into a chair. Socks hated introductions. “I’m on security detail for them, though not entirely sure what they here for.” She nodded towards the green and blue Proconsuls. “Socorra Erinos, family and clan. Former.. lots of osik. Retired Herald, mostly. Long karkin’ time ago.”

She watched Ka’tey roll up to the table. “No worry. Just whatever they want and another thing you made me. Please and thank you.”

Avery stared back, gently waving a hand in front of the Verpine’s eyes. It seemed they were struggling to find words. “You doing alright there, Mex? How about we grab a drink?”

“Yes. Fluids are always an activity one can do.” Mex stated awkwardly, shuffling over to the bar with Avery.

Avery chuckled. “You have the right idea. I was thinking more alcoholic in nature, but water is also appropriate.”

Diy bit her lip lightly. She could very much jump on a comment like that, so easy. But she still hadn’t figured out if this tall hunk of scales was the Doon level of broody but open or just plain grump and thug – makes the interaction more interesting.

“So many benefits with one. For starters, ya know it ain’t someone who’d let life just slip ‘em by.” Diy replied, a slight drawl to her initial statement. She was about to inquire more of his bounty work when a voice popped up behind him, a somewhat familiar one. A scuff of a laugh slipped from her as she registered the insult. Leaning to see past the Barabel, her gaze settled on the Emere Galo.

“Long time no see, Em. Last I heard ya ran off with our favorite Pirate Queen.” She gave a wink and a grin. “If ya’ll want to wrestle, feel free.”

“Ro-Tahn, are we finished here?” a petite crimson skinned Togruta asked, as she finished making arrangements for taking the odds and ends they had gotten at the small market, back to her ship. She glanced at the taller Togruta casually leaning against a wall.

“Hmm, yes Tahiri. We are finished here at the market,” he replied with a cocked smile.

“Good,” Tahiri replied as she finished paying and then walked out of the market building. “Then we can get off this sand pile and head back to-”

“Oh we’re not leaving yet,” Ro-Tahn interrupted as he followed his sister out of the building and into the street.

Tahiri stopped and sighed, looking up into the sky, shielding her eyes from the blazing glare of Tatooine’s two suns. “I thought you said we were finished here. What else could you possibly want or need in Mos Kenny?”

“I said, we were done at the market,” he stopped slightly in front of her, to shield her from the sun’s. Looking down he smiled and continued, “There is one place I’d like to visit before we leave. There’s a wonderful cantina here, that I used to stop at every once in awhile, after I had finished a race or just wanted a good drink.”

“Brother, we didn’t come here for leasure. Besides I have things that I have to do back on Aliso.”

“Trust me sister, you’ll love it. And I think they could make you that Comet Duster drink you like.”

After a few minutes of arguing, Ro-Tahn convinced his older sister to have a few drinks at the cantina.

“Your buying the first round then,” was Tahiri’s only admittance of defeat, as they walked together over to the cantina.

“Thank you. I’m doing quite well my friend,” Ro-Tahn flashed a bright smile towards the fellow Togruta. “I’m treating my sister to your lovely establishment. I’m not sure you remember me any, but I’ve been here on a few occasions?”

Tahiri smiled and nodded pleasantly toward the Togruta greeting them. “I’m doing well. And what he said, but I’ve never been here before.”

Druzk’s attention was pulled away from Diy and onto her. Again. “Oh, it’s you. Hi,” he muttered flatly to Emere.

“Are you challenging me?” The Barabel pushed himself away from the bar and squared himself upright before the human.

“The answer is yes.”

“Retired Herald, eh? Interesting,” Bes'uliik noted, rubbing the chin of his helmet where had he not been wearing it, his beard would be. In a bit of an intoxicated sensation, he wondered if people thought it odd he was always rubbing the chin of his helmet or whether they assumed he had a beard under there. Zxyl and Tracinya both raised their drinks as they attempted to out-do the other on finishing it first, even though they had a free round from Socorra ready to go. A game was a game, afterall.

“Ah yes, alcohol. I can partake, yes.” Mex confirmed, going to the bar with Avery, sitting down on a stool (normally this time) and tapping on the stool next to them for Avery to sit. Looking back to the busy bartender, Mex sat there awkwardly as they waited for the bartender to free up a little bit so they could be asked about drinks.

Appius took the little bit of chastising from the Miralian. Truth be told, Ruka was probably one of the last people he’d expect to see. Given what happened between the two of them at the Ruins of Antei, the Mandalorian wouldn’t have been surprised if Ruka wanted nothing to do with him again.

Appius had improved a lot as a person since then. Not that Ruka would have been able to tell, given the Mandalorian’s disaster upon arrival. Nevertheless, Appius still had a bounty to find.

“AHA! I’M FREE!”

Speak of the frakking devil…

The prisoner had grabbed a small knife from the kitchen and barged into the bar area again… immediately grabbing the attention of Wa'yne. The Taldryan Consul could feel the Togruta was less than impressed with the brazen display, especially when Wa'yne grabbed him, and locked him away into one of the nearby cupboards.

Somehow, Appius was confident wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Ruka, can I speak with you and your husband in private? I just need a couple moments of your time,” the Mandalorian requested.

Despite tilting her head back and downing the drink as fast as she could, when Tracinya looked back towards Zxyl she could see the empty glass sitting in front of him on the table. She could easily envision a smug look beneath the visor staring back at her.

“Alright, one to you!” the Mandalorian relented loudly, taking a hold of the second glass firmly. She cast a side glance towards the newcomer sat with them and she gestured at the table.

“You want to join in, Erinos? Or are you just here to chat?”

For all the time she spent with her sweet daughter who honestly was cut from a different cloth, common kindness still alluded her. The faux-Zelosian managed to press, not one but two of her buttons. Her nickname was reserved for those closest to her and the latter… “That’s none of your fraking business, Grivna. And it’s Emere.”

Her words were annunciated and laced with venom. She glared daggers at Diyrian before finally listening to the Angel on her shoulder and just let it go. With Watson making his way to the bar, she really didn’t want a scene. She knew very well, he would stand up for this lunatic. She had to be one, drawing up details of her personal life like she was a fraking well. Another motivator ended up being Ruka who was way too high strung for his own good. She turned her attention back to the ugly beast who accepted her challenge.

“Deal.” Emere stood and pointed to a table that was empty behind them. “Don’t want to break the bar.”

It honestly surprised the man that Mex even knew what alcohol was. Though he smiled and nodded. As they approached the bar, Avery noticed Emere and while he considered her a friend, her attitude was often times too abrasive. On top of that, she did some things that the man simply didn’t agree with. He paused, catching the tail end of her speaking—no, snapping at Diy. It didn’t look like the situation would escalate though so he went to the offered seat.

Since drinking was the catalyst of many of his bad decisions, his therapist encouraged him to limit his consumption, so he opted to only one drink in public settings. Not to mention… he was a godsdamned father.

The bartender looked busy so he looked to Mex with a friendly smile. “So… where are you from, Mex?”

“Nerf nuggies!” Nejj ordered excitedly, barely letting Ka'tey finish. Kids menu be damned, nuggets were good for all ages. Especially with a good helping of dippin’ sauce.

“Oh, apologies, Mister Sulvir,” the Pantoran murmured, and stepped aside. He worried about Doon overheating, but if it came down to it and the other went into some form of medical distress, he would intervene to help regulate the Shistavanen’s body temperature. For the moment, he sat instead, taking a meditative pose a few feet away from Doon. “You said you did not want to meditate in the bar. How about out here?”

Zuza settled on the bar for a little while, ordering another Twin Suns Storm and getting half through it before looking around the bar once more. The repair party was starting to break up, Socorra had joined the table of fancy people, two folk were sitting at the front of the bar, and Cora just exited. Ruka was approached by Appius, so nothing to do there.

However, there was the 5th fancy dude that was sitting by himself. He’d come in earlier, but was just texting. Normally, Zu might have left the evident introvert alone, but she reckoned he was of the Brotherhood and it was worth finding out who he was. Probably. What was the worst that could happen?

She ordered a round of whatever he was having, which took a minute, before going over and plopping herself down in one of the seats beside the stranger. And, clunked onto the table a moment after in front of him was the drink she procured for him, placing her own in front of herself.

“Heya!”

Teikhos shrugged. Nothing wrong with enthusiasm. “I’ll take whatever wrap doesn’t take meat, please and thank you,” he said to Ka'tey. “So I take it the Ancient Masters are cool with droid-extruded meat paste?”

Ruka’s gaze cut back to the Consul from where it had been generally surveying the room, not unlike a chaperone. His brows furrowed.

“Yeah, ay, sure. But Cor is busy handling the kriffing panic that you caused Sulvir, so if you wanna talk to both of us, you’re going to have to wait.”

Nejj’s eyes flicked up and to the side, ruffling about in his mental catalogue. “They say, ‘Anything that walks, swims, crawls, or flies with its back to heaven is edible.’”

“I do at least three of those things,” the Jedi chuckled. “I’ll try not to get between you and the nerf nuggets.”

The Shistavanen remained silent for a long minute. Then pressed his non glass filled palm into the side of his head, covering the missing eye and marred ear. His good eye closes, shoulders slumping. That tug inside of him returned, and still evaded recognition.

An almost pained growl escaped Doon “if you can stop the world from spinning. Maybe.” He references not only his alcohol induced sickness, but the impossible feat of stopping the world from turning. He cracks an eye open, the world still warping around him through the smoke.

“That’s fine. I can start with you if you want,” Appius conceded. His eyes darted over to the Pantoran who worked like a magician in calming down those around him. A Jedi and a Sith married together… it was the most unlikely pairing in the galaxy. Then again, Ruka had to be the least Sith-like Sith Appius had ever meet. Maybe that was what he needed right now. “So… ive got a couple of questions so ill start with the first one. there’s no real easy way to just ask this, but since you are here I’ve got the perfect opportunity to do so. Why? Why did you spare me? I’m sure you saw everything that happened here. Do you regret it?”

“Likely less interesting than a newer office such as yours.”

“I gladly drink you under table another day,” she smirked. “Didn’t catch name, and I terrible at introduction, and definitely not as entertaining as his.” The woman gestured to Appius.

Thane remained unmoving as Zuza plopped down and the drinks appeared. After a moment of staring at the drink itself, the Firrerreon shifted his gaze towards her. The movement was slow and steady, born of a calm stillness. His black sclera made the golden irises stand out all the more as he clearly looked her over—starting from the top and ending there once more upon completion—and offered her a light tilt of his head in acknowledgement of her presence and in acceptance of the drink.

A man of many words Thane was not.

He raised the glass and his nostrils flared as he evaluated its contents before taking a sip.

“Here! Well, not here - on Tatooine. … Not before though. Born in the Roche asteroid field. But here… mostly… Tatooine.” they fidgeted their hands as they attempted to explain, before looking back to Avery with the same curiosity as they had while studying the droid repairs - almost as if Mex was studying Avery.

“I’m from Tatooine. Are you from Tatooine?” the verpine curiously asked.

The young Mandalorian couldn’t help but frown at Socorra’s answer. Though the expression and the reason for it had all but disappeared after a drawn-out drag on her cigarra. She let go of her drink and extended her hand out towards the former Herald.

“Tracinya Beviin Entar, of Clan Taldryan. It’s good to know you, Erinos.”

Socorra raised a dark brow in surprise. “Beviin Entar. As in, Kalon Beviin?”

Cora smiled at him encouragingly whether or not he would see it.

“I can certainly try. Ruka and I do this…more often than I’d like.” So said, he centered himself in the currents of the Force, a Light much cooler than that that burned above them yet just as fiercely bright, full of life. With deliberate care he slowed his own respiration and heartbeat, and then reached out to the Shistavanen and imposed that same will upon his own bodily systems. Their slow breaths synchronized, their hearts came into calm alignment, and the pounding in Doon’s head and static in his mind receded slightly as his blood purged and settled, airways opened, the pain numbed.

Softly, slowly, Corazon echoed his husband, “There now, just breathe for me…one, two, three, four…”

The drink was the same as his previous one, that or just something fruity. Zuza hadn’t actually asked what it was.

Silence had not been expected, and Zuza contemplated her next action. She could stay quiet. But, as she made eye contact, brown irises meeting golden starbursts, that was immediately out the window. Her presence was noted and accepted, so chattering it be. She just hoped he was actually Brotherhood.

“Sooo, odd seeing so many of us all in one random bar eh? I’m not against meeting new folk, but the chances of this are silly.”

The change in Tracinya was instantaneous, her posture went from relaxed to tense and her hands visible clenched into fists. Despite this, she took a steady puff of her cigarra before setting the smouldering tabac stick down on the table.

“My buir.”

Despite the change in her attitude, her voice remained the same, calm if not a bit loud because of her inebriated state. She stared at Socorra unblinkingly with her piercing eyes.

“What’s it to you, newcomer?”

“Start with me?” the Mirialan echoed, clearly not liking the thought that Wight had some specific questions or wanted something from his partner. He grimaced slightly, but at least turned to face Appius fully, tilting his chin up to look the man critically in the eye. “I heard what you did, yeah. And it’s kriffing atrocious. Heard a couple other things here and there too, since this place,” his gesture referred to the Brotherhood in general, “is a tyrannical empire made of fighting franging children dressed as adults with war machines, and everybody’s a gossip. Ain’t really the point though. I told you why when we fought. You’re a person. You thought you didn’t have anything, your alit, how you say it? Gone. That’s an excuse. Was then and is now. Everyone is leaving someone behind when they give up like that. Someone survives, and then they have to live with you abandoning them and everything you leave behind.”

Ruka’s next gesture was to the Mandalorian’s armor.

“Did you figure it out?”

The Regent eyed Socorra for a moment, awaiting her response as he fiddled with his drink..

“Unlikely,” Thane remarked. His eyebrows danced in acquiescence to Zuza’s observation. The Justicar idly swiped through messages on his device while continuing to observe the collected masses. The Brotherhood was a powder keg at the best of times. Volatile at the worst. Yet, there were always different measures of ingredients. A certain special something could defuse everything. Another could be downright vitriolic.

The man’s attention returned to the entirely too excitable being beside him. “Thane,” came the ever so slightly lilting sound of his voice. He let it hang in the air for a moment before raising one eyebrow. “My name,” he clarified.

“Well kark me sideways.” Socks noted the complete change in attitude but made no move. She did casually take a sip from her not-fun drink. At least staying sober allowed her to sense the waves of tension around the establishment, Ruka being her primary concern. He didn’t seem to be deescalating his own situation.

“I met him long, long time ago, back when he joined Brotherhood. I hired him to run one of my battleteams. I know almost all the Entars, even married Atyiru.. kind of.”

Thane. Definitely Brotherhood. It took a moment before it hit that she was talking to the Justicar. One of the top fancy folk. It almost registered she should be respectful, but that was yet to be something she’d managed outside of Lucine and well… That was a different kind of respect.

“Good to meet you, though that makes this even more odd. Cause I’m fairly sure that table is also you guys at top.” She tilted her head towards the table the other ‘fancy’ looking folk were at, as well as Socorra. She chuckled, “Weird. Anywho, I’m Zuza.”

The Human offered her hand out to shake.

“Figure it out?” Appius repeated back. “Figure it out? Yeah, I suppose you could say that. I didn’t do it on my own. Of course not. It took me a while to get over our fight and the fact I should have been dead by your hands. Seriously, Ruka. You must be the worst Sith I’ve ever known. You act more like a kriffing Jetti.”

Appius could feel his anger rising again, but stopped himself before he took it another step too far. He’d made many mistakes this day, and he did not want to make another one.

“I need… help…” the Mandalorian muttered, barely louder than a whisper. “The Force… I’m losing control of it. Ever since I pulled myself out of the dark side completely, I feel both sides trying to tug at me like I’ve got ropes attatched to my arms. Most days I can keep it in check, but others… like today… it just… happens… I snap and I go back too… that place in my mind. The one you saw on Antei.”

Thane raised his brow even further at the offered hand. He seemed to be weighing the worth of the gesture before accepting it. What difference did it make, after all? Shake one hand, might as well shake another. Everyone was the same in the end.

“Top? Just another person,” the Justicar remarked. He paused for a moment and turned his attention inward. The man’s eyes flit this way and that before he folded his arms across his chest with a heavy sigh that caused it to rise and fall. “Though, some of us don’t blow up the help.”

Doon flinches at the sudden onset of calm, ear twitching as he slumped forward. His eye closed, but he still saw flashes of energy arcing through the air. He still heard a faint ringing. The tug in his chest pulled him upwards again, towards Cora. But Doon recoiled, staying seated.

After a few minutes he turned away and let out a tired growl. “Kark off.. Foxtrot.” He mumbled, exhausted. With His numbness faded, his face twists into a slight snarl at the sharp stinging pain in his palm. “You can’t fix everything.” His eye opens, and inspects the inside of his left palm, counting the shards still stuck in him.

I need help.

Kriffing hell.

Noting the venom and then desperation in his tone, the flare of his nostrils, that quiver of generous, patient violence in the air, Ruka took a step forward himself. Reaching out and up, the Mirialan grabbed the taller Human by the back of the neck and squeezed, giving a firm little shake, as if in warning and support at once.

“Wright– Appius. Listen to me, ay. Ain’t no dead by my hand sithspit, do you hear yourself? I wasn’t going to kill you, and I wasn’t going to let you make me. Sith, Jedi, whatever, it doesn’t matter. There’s goddamn right and wrong, and you know that, that’s why you’re struggling.” He grimaced. “I know it too. I ain’t never been able to reach the Light, but the Dark…that’s got me. And it’s dangerous. I feel it too. Slipping too far. But you’re in control, not it. We have to be in control. We can’t afford not to be. And if you can’t do that alone– nobody frakking can, I’d be lost without Corazon, without my family, others– well, you don’t. Fight or not, if you need help then I won’t let you be alone, ay. Me and whoever else you got, cause you must have somebody, them they care about you, yeah?”

“Foxtrot?” the Pantoran questioned, but only briefly. His expression was sad if peaceful. “I know I cannot fix almost anything, Mister Sulvir. And I am not here to fix you. Only to help, to ensure you were not suffering in health, and to be your comrade. But I will go if you would like to be alone. The decision is entirely up to you.”

A rumble slowly grows from his chest, his lips curling in a slightly snarl at Cora’s words. “I am not. Sulvir.” His eye narrows as he glares up at the man. His growl slowly fades after a moment as he settles down and slightly slumps once more. “Leave me…” he lets out a snarl, mixed with a dull whine as he plucks a shard of glass from the meaty part of his palm.

“My apologies, Doon. I did not mean to offend; I will be sure to change how I address you,” the Jedi apologized. He stood up again, brushing sand off his white robes, and dipped a half bow. “I will leave you to your respite, but Ruka and I will be here sometime yet. Come and find us if you need anything at all.”

With that, the Pantoran turned away, obligingly heading back for the cantina.

Tracinya nodded as the woman spoke, turning her head away for a moment so no one could see her gritted teeth and pained expression. The young Mandalorian could already feel the same old emotions swelling up within her, threatening to drown her in the anger, the fear and the regret.

She thought she’d started to make an improvement over the last few months, but now it felt like the wounds had been freshly reopened at the mere mention of her Father’s name. She was a Sith, krif it all. Why did she have to be so sensitive!

“He didn’t talk a lot about his early days in the Brotherhood.” she mumbled, composing herself enough to face Socorra again. “Not that it matters. He’s gone now.”

Once they’d shook hands she sipped her drink, feeling her cheeks begin to heat up as this and the two before it began to finally make their presence known.

“Well.. That’s good to know. I’ve not been around for anything friendly blowings up, I more just mean the Council are spoken of very, separately?” Zuza shrugged, a smile playing across her lips, “Glad to hear you are in fact all people though.”

Sarai sitting by herself at her table watches everyone with scrutiny, before seeing Tahiri, she then whistles to get her attention

“It’s not just the dark side, it’s the light too. When one starts fighting, the other reacts and then it’s like two planet’s going to war in your very soul,” Appius said.

Ruka considered the other man a moment, weighing his words, weighing what he’d say.

“So do you want to balance between them, or do you want to choose which way you’re going to fall?”

The Barabel narrowed his eyes at Emere. Was she genuinely trying to challenge him with a test of strength? Fine. Druzk marched to the table pointed out by the human and took his seat with a snort. “If you are to be my mentor, prove your worth.”

Thane mulled over Zuza’s words in silence, letting his thoughts fully form. His lips barely parted and a long breath passed between them. “If they want,” he offered, answering the question in her remarks.

He, too, shrugged, not willing to offer the topic any more energy. It wasn’t something he controlled, so it certainly wasn’t worth it. He blinked, sort of. Not with his eyelids, but the semi-transparent membranes crossed across his eyes horizontally before sliding back. It wasn’t something he did often. Far from it. But with so much sand in the air it was a welcome biological feature. His eyebrows danced this way and that, denoting that there were indeed thoughts passing through his mind whilst he considered his glass. Another gulp was his conclusion.

Luka slid over to where Diy sat with the sly look of someone knowing they’re getting into something. “Diyriannn~ I have a question.”

A dark eyebrow raised at Emere’s outburst. Apparently that ship ended up dead in the vacuum. Diy’s grin did wane slightly, somewhat apologetically, but her gaze didn’t break from the sharp gaze drilling into her. Not until Emere returned her attention back to Druzk. She probably should’ve apologized, but couldn’t be truly bothered at the moment.

Ordering a virgin cocktail, the Kiffar had just shifted with her back pressed against the counter and her gaze noting all those who had gathered in close proximity, when Luka leaned over. “Shoot for it, King. What’s up”

“Well… you know your tall, dark, and brooding friend? He has stormed out twice since I’ve been here, and I just have to know…” They leaned in closer, not even remotely being inconspicuous in their attempt to hush their conversation. “What is his deal? I want so badly for the poor dear to have a good time. It’s breaking my heart.”

“Balance,” Appius declared. “I’ve… fallen too far to go back completely to the light, but I can’t fall completely to the dark. Yet, it’s… a part of me, you know?”

Boots crunched on sand as a pale figure approached the cantina. Meyrath looked up at the building, squinting through the suns rays, and then back to the paper in his hand. “Mos Kenny”, it read. This was the place.

Thank frak, he thought as he approached the door. An hour in the sun and he could already feel his skin burning. That twi’lek back at the port was right, he should have brought an umbrella. He wiped the sweat that had collected on his forehead before staring at the two figures dwindling outside the building, giving them a small smile and a wave.

“Greetings to you folks. Deepest apologies, hate to interrupt your conversation, but is this Mos Kenny? I’m looking for someone.”

As Tahiri and her brother walked toward the bar, she heard a whistle. For a moment she was annoyed, till she looked towards where the sound had originated, Tahiri was surprised to see the Plagueian Acolyte Sarai Andromeda sitting by herself at a table. Nudging Ro-Tahn, she motioned towards Sarai’s table. Ro-Tahn nodded and continued towards the bar to get drinks, while Tahiri beelined towards Sarai.

“Greetings Sarai, what brings you here, if I may ask?” Tahiri asked as she got to the table.

“I’m following a ship that survived and fled a battle against Talzin, I followed it to a few clicks away from here. I’m resting before I go hunting the pilot and any other survivors.” Sarai replied. “How about yourself? I never thought you would show up here of all places to be.”

With a delicate dancer’s step, Cora twisted slightly in his stride to face the newcomer waving to him, wondering if he shouldn’t place himself entirely between Doon and the approaching Zabrak. He decided, however, to leave that decision to the Shistavanen.

“Greetings, ser,” the Pantoran Jedi replied, dipping his chin. “This is Most Kenny, yes. May I ask, do you need assistance? Are you trying to find a friend, perhaps?”

“A friend? Ahhh, yes! Yes, a friend!” The zabrak said, putting on his most inviting smile. “Family friend, supposed to have passed through here recently. I was going to speak to the barkeep, but I suppose I could ask you if you’ve been around within the past few weeks?”

Doon’s head slowly raised, his attention drawn from his bleeding palm to the new voice that approached. To the man, it was hard to make out much of the Massive shistavanen. His shape was clouded with smoke, a burning golden eye peering between the wisps that curled through the air as he exhales another current of the sweet smoke. Mostly obscured, a snarl could be seen stuck to the large snout of the wolfman.

“Oh,” Corazon smiled in kind, polite and happy to help. “Unfortunately, my husband and I have only been here a day or so, visiting aquaintcss as well, but perhaps I can help nonetheless. Mos Kenny is rather small, and we’ve visited before. Though, many new faces have been in town today…Forgive me, I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir. A pleasure to meet you.”

Diy lowered her glass after sipping from it. Her usual grin faded and she quickly scanned for the aforementioned Shistavanen, confirming quickly he wasn’t present. Putting two and two together from the earlier scene with lightning and the culprit’s presence nearby, the Kiffar set her glass on the counter and tilted her head up slightly towards the Human.

“Oh that…well, Wulfie has got a bad past. His fam, pack, crew, whatever the proper title fer them, they were wiped out by some sithy schutta. I think he blames himself fer it, a lot of trapped emotions in that saber of his. Lightnin’ Mc'queen o'er there must of triggered him.”

Huh, his eyelids were odd. Zuza blinked and finished her drink, internally shaking her head at herself. Silly thing to pick up on. He was quiet, but that was fine, Thane was evidently thinking a whole lot even if he wasn’t saying it.

So, she smiled and carefully placed the emptied glass back onto the tabletop, going for a different topic, even if it felt a bit awkward of a choice, “Don’t see many Firrereo around Arcona, we tend to be a very fluffy lot for some reason.”

With a slight bow, the zabrak extended his hand outwards. “Meyrath Rizara,” he said. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Corazon.”

The wolf-creature didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation, though he couldn’t help but stare occasionally. He hadn’t see one of his kind before. It seemed sentient? Though he could only guess at this point.

He took a step back and raised his hand, indicating a height only slightly below his own. “Looking for Kerruk Massar, a zabrak, about my height. Said to have rolled here sometime within the past week or so. Sound familiar?”

A smirk crossed over Thane’s face. “Not in my day, short as it was.”

Two months. Give or take. Perhaps a little more. That’s how long Thane, well, Atra had been counted amongst the members of Arcona. Time is funny like that. It changes things. Of course, it had little care for what those changes might look like. It just happened. Like most, if not all, Councilors, he had come from the ranks of the clans themselves.

Well…mostly.

Thane had cut ties with clans in their entirety in exchange for freedom. The freedom to follow his own goals, and the assets to accomplish them. He agreed to take on the role of Combat Master and the rest is history. For good or ill.

After a lot of tedious work, Eilen finally replaced the paneling in the LEP droid. She set aside her tools, owned and borrowed, and fished around for his power switch. Something finally clicked, and she stood the droid up on the floor.

“Theerre you go,” she said gently, smiling down to him. “I was a little worried about you, little fella!” After a quick glance around, she leaned in to whisper, “You’re safe again, I’m sure of it.”

Man, that quick look told her a lot more people had shown up recently…

Doon pinches the cigar between his claws, blowing smoke at the hot sand between the groupings feet. He lets an engine like rumble pour from his chest, snarling for a moment. He taps the ash off to the side again then looks away towards the rest of the town. He felt the tingle of that sensation tug at him again, he promptly ignored it, growling to himself as he zoned out for a moment, looking into the horizon.

“You were in Arcona?” Zuza queried with interest, her smile fading into a far more curious expression. History was better from those who lived it rather than boring old records that the Shadow Academy provided. Not that she’d say that anywhere near Avery or Ruka.

“I’ve been here for just over a year now.”

Luka gave a solemn nod. They understood to some extent. It had taken them a decade before they were able to return to the desert planet. Such things are not easily swept aside.

“D'you think I should touch that?” they ask. Though they had been looking for a bit of selfish fun at the start, they always wanted to help where they could. But then again, perhaps they were simply jumping at the next person to ‘fix’. Lips pursed as they considered. “Probably a bad idea…” They drummed on the bar absentmindedly.

The Pantoran returned the shake with all his court-trained grace and then shook his head.

“I am afraid I know neither the name nor the description, though if you have more to go on for his appearance, perhaps we can ask the locals? One of my own dear friends is very familiar with this area, as is one of our captains. We can ask them. They are just in of doors.” He gestured to the cantina, then looked back over to Doon. His pastel brows creased with worry. “Doon, I will be heading inside with Master Rizara now! But please know we’re here if you need anything.”

The Justicar tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, glancing up as he calculated some mental arithmetic. “Five cycles ago,” he settled on, using Selen’s calendar as a basis.

It was a chaotic time. Selen was very much on fire then. To be fair, some part of the Dajorra system seemed to be on fire at any point in time. Mostly Ol'val. Atyiru had been Consul. Atra remarked back then the woman was waiting to be killed by her own kindness.

He had been right, of course. Usually was.

Didn’t stay dead, though.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Meyrath said, following the other man until they were approached by another. Togruta, he thought. Now that, he had seen before. “Greetings to you. A quick question, if you would - do you know if many of my kind pass through here? recently perhaps? Looking for one in particular.”

It was difficult to have a conversation with only snippets from his side coming through. But she beyond intrigued.

“That’s a long damn time. I wonder if it was anymore hectic than it is now. Seems like nothing is exploding but there’s always somethin’.”

Thane made a series of gestures and the datapad brought up a series of reports focused on Selen. His black-gold eyes moved over them, only for him to chuckle when he was finished.

“Less fire, at least,” he acknowledged. “There was hope, given way to despair.” The man spoke in his carefully controlled way, each word selected to be as succinct as possible whilst his tone held a flat monotone—the faint lilt of his withheld accent notwithstanding. “Betrayals and sacrifice. On all sides.”

The Justicar tilted his datapad in such a way that Zuza could see the documents as he swiped through them, now bringing up quick snippets and images outlining the schism between the Council and the clans themselves, the onset of the Collective, and then several iterations of new leadership. Their current chance to prosper once more.

“Growth for the better. Eventually.”

“Hm… Not him, but I will certainly ask this D'an fellow, thank you. The man I’m looking for goes by Kerruk Massar, he’s a… family friend, of sorts.” Meyrath smiled, slightly wary of the defensive posture the other man was displaying. Did he know why he was here?. Didn’t matter, he’d be out soon enough anyway. The zabrak nodded. “Appreciate the info.”

A drink. Yes, a drink would be nice. He was rather parched from the sun. Hopefully their water was parasite free.

“Of course, you’ll have no problems from me,” he said, grasping the man’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake as he’d been taught.

He then followed Corazon inside.

Farbeit for the Socorran to make a big show of empathy, but she looked inward to the brothers she had lost and the anger that she felt for some. It was far too easy to remember while sober.

“To rejoice in aay’han sounds simple in text. I found actual practice is so much harder the more recent it is. And many recent it has been.”

Socks downed the rest of her virgin whatever and internally whined that it wasn’t a raava. This was not a topic to be having without one.

“Ka’tey!” she shouted this time towards the bar and gestured for one more round plus her free shot.

“For the Entar,” she nodded to Tracinya.

“Ah, well if you need any help,” Tahiri offered, as she went around and sat in chair to Saria’s left. “We’ll be here for a bit.”

Looking over to her brother at the bar, she nodded towards him, and continued, “As for why I’m here, it’s because of my little brother, Ro-Tahn. He wanted to pick up a few things and I needed to get out for a bit, so I gave him a ride. Then he wanted to come here for a drink.”

nods at Tahiri, and signals the bartender for service when she had a moment

Cora led the Zabrak along, saffron gaze going immediately to his husband when they entered. Ruka seemed to be in a serious conversation with Appius Wright, and the Pantoran’s brows creased briefly. He knew that look. Something was wrong, and Ruka intended to help fix it.

He’d have to see what was going on, and how they both could be any aid.

For the moment, he was a guide with a guest, and gestured Meyrath towards where Zuza sat, along with a nod to Kay'te.

“Pardon me my interruption, Zuza, my Lord Justicar,” to Thane, the Proconsul bowed, and to his friend, a polite smile. “I have here a compatriot in search of one of his kinsmen. Zuza, would you happen to know anyone matching his description, or think your father would?”

Thane’s eyes narrowed somewhat at ‘Lord Justicar’ and he clicked his tongue. The man despised titles. Never addressed anyone by them. Ever.

He’d gotten better at not correcting people over the matter, however. Desensitized, even.

Zuza leant forward as he offered the view of the tablet, eyes widening at the sheer amount of information. Sure reading wasn’t her forte, but… Woah, Arcona had been through more kriff than she could have imagined.

“The collective.. you guys beat them back just before I came in… huh.” She went quiet again, taking in his words especially as she continued scanning the information. The Human eventually looked back up, meeting Thane’s eye, “It certainly seems like it has. There is no lacking in good people in Arcona, despite our current troubles.” The old ‘gods’, caxquettes that had both disappeared out of reach.

Cora’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, sitting back up and looking to the Jedi with a broad smile, picking up on the disapproving click of the tongue from Thane. Interesting. But her eyes quickly found Cora’s companion, “It’s no trouble Cor, me and Thane are just chatting.” Zuza looked between them both, curiosity alight in her eyes, “What’s the description, and name if you have it. If I don’t know it, I should imagine my father would. He might not live in town but I’d be damned if he didn’t talk to enough folk around here to know anyway.”

Socorra’s words strangely comforted Tracinya, not only because Aay'han was coincidentally the name of her younger sister but also there was a truth behind them. The Mandalorian sighed deeply, feeling the tension fade away as she gratiously took the shot that the Warlord had ordered her and downed it in one.

“Vor entye, Socorra.” said the Battlelord, nodding her head back at the Arconan. “I’m not one to be haryc b'aalyc, but I’m sure more drink couldn’t hurt.

Turning back to face Zxyl, she took hold of her glass of ale.

"You ready for round two, vod?

A human! Finally, something he was more familiar with. Meyrath put on his best smile, bowing his head slightly to the short-haired woman.

“Looking for Kerruk Massar - a zabrak, few inches shorter than me,” he said. “Reddish skin-tone, horns a bit on the smaller side. Barefaced. He’d stick out with his lack of tattoos, oddly enough. I appreciate any help if you’re able to point me in the right direction.”

Tahiri motioned for Ro-Tahn to join them at the table and wait for the bartender. She looked busy enough as it was.

“Sarai, I don’t believe you’ve officially met my brother yet, he’s a decent pilot.” Tahiri said, as her brother got to the table and took a seat on her left.

“A ‘decent’ pilot? Ouch, that hurts ‘Hiri,” Ro-Tahn feigned a hurt look, all the while a cocky smile played in the corners of his lips.

“Well, you did stall your fighter a couple times,” the petite Togruta smirk at him. Then she laughed, “No matter. Saria, this is my brother Ro-Tahn Vang Drakon. Ro, this is Sarai Andromeda.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sarai,” Ro-Tahn smiled and nodded.

“Hm. The name sounds vaguely familiar, though you might be a couple towns out for ‘im. If you’re okay to wait a little while I can comm my dad and see if he has anything.” Zuza offered, smiling up at the Zabraki.

“Oh, by all means, I’m more than happy to wait! I might check out the rest of the area in the meantime - never been to a place quite like this before. I do very much appreciate the assistance.” He returned that smile, and then turned back to the rest of the bar.

Perhaps a drink would be in order.

Meyrath wandered over to the bar to the far left corner, waving down the barkeep.

Cora smiled at Zuza and mouthed a thanks to her, then bowed to the Justicar again before following the Zabrak. He felt it his obligation as a host to stay with the man who was nearly arrived.

Mex eyed up the horned alien with curious, unblinking eyes.

“I’ll come over once I’ve got an answer for you. Names Zuza, by the way.” She aimed a fingerguns at him, before turning in her seat and drawing out her comm.. thingie, and finding her father’s contact to relay that question to him.

“Poison?” Meyrath stumbled on his words for a moment before a look of realization dawned across his face. “Ah, yes! My ah, poison would be water please. A glass of it, if you will.”

The Major chuckled and shook his head. “No, I’m from Coruscant. Though I have visited here before once or twice. I don’t remember too much as I was young.”

He hailed the barkeep over, drumming his fingers on the countertop. He glanced over at the newest arrival offered a smile at his order. “I would advise against poison, but if you could, a shot of the strongest thing you’ve got.” His gaze shifted to the Torgruta with a kind smile.

“Hi, I am Mex. Poison is not healthy.” The verpine stated, as if he was giving life saving advice.

Mune watched the general goings on about the room, observing and… well… not really catching or retaining much of any of the conversations because their mind, as always, wandered. Their eyes flicked to Cora when he reentered, noticing that Doon did not reenter with him and frowned some. The man with him was new though, the Shistavanen thought to themself.

Mune looked a question at Cora as if to ask with a look where and how Doon fared, though, only really effective if Cora so happened to glance in their direction.

With the droid reacquiring its bearings, Eilen looked back up to find Mex again. It suddenly occurred to her that she was alone at the table - at times, a blessing, but at the moment, she was still rather curious about the new recruits.

“Come on, buddy.” She picked the repaired droid up off the floor and carried him with her back toward the bar, next to Mex and the other new faces around him. The droid was carefully placed on the counter, and she waved over toward the bartender guy. All that was left now was the tools she’d borrowed, which Eilen promptly extended toward Avery. “Uh… Thanks again,” she said, slowly.

Mex looked at Ka'tey and then looked to Avery, then looked at Avery’s drink, before finally looking back to Ka'tey.

“Alcohol.”

There was a lot happening around him, almost overwhelming, though the toothy smile planted upon his face wouldn’t have anybody thinking that. He took a sip of his water before curiosity got the better of him.

“Apologies,” he said to the bartender, “this may seem like a rather idiotic question, but I’m not from around here. What do you have that is strong? I’ll have what this fellow is having.” He motioned towards the human.

Mex got to work on his drink, and it tasted strangely good. It had a real spice to it this time and they were loving it. Loudly slurping away on their drink through a straw. They may have drunken it a bit too fast though because Mex started to feel a bit funny.

“Ah yes, Bothan 151,” Meyrath repeated as if he had definitely heard of it before. “I’ll have one of those please.”

The pair settled down at the empty table, Emere confidently threw his elbow up on the table. She had nothing to prove to him except maybe his grip wasn’t as strong as he claimed it to be. There wasn’t anything to say except her silent grunt and nod toward her open hand, her gaze unamused.

Meyrath eyed the water, no, the Bothan 151, as the bartender put it. It was certainly a different colour than water, and, he paused to sniff it, yes it smelled different too. It smelled toxic, but the human had drank some beforehand, so surely it couldn’t be poison… Right?

Well he couldn’t just stare at it all day. He eyed the drink, and after watching someone else in the bar, he mimicked them and tipped the glass back, swallowing the whole thing.

His one eye bulged as he tried his best not to retch, and what in the kriff ,WHY is it spicy?

“Ah, yes that’s-” he paused to clear his throat, “that’s fantastic. Lovely. My f-favourite drink. Another… please?”

The verpine slowly looked back to Zig, before getting affixed on her ears. Slowly he raised his arm over and just… tapped her ears out of curiosity, leaning over into her personal space. “Your antennas feel funny.”

Another shot down the hatch, and Meyrath was beginning to feel warm inside. The taste was somehow less disgusting than the previous drink.

“Ah yes, very nice… concoction,” he said. “What else do you have? Anything sweet?”

Druzk stared the human down as he enveloped her hand in his own tight grip.

She was strong, he had to admit. It was actually a struggle. And then… the impossible happened.

The damned human slammed his hand down on the table.

Mex looked over across from Avery, their large bug eyes were instantly affixed to the shiny metal parts on Meyrath’s head. Slowly sprawling across Avery Mex stretched out to touch Meyrath’s dangly earrings.

Basically falling onto Avery’s lap, Mex looked up to Meyrath. “Hi, I am Mex. Your metal is shiny.” they said reaching out towards Meyrath’s head without any shame.

Avery was not a fan of the taste, but all around, the shot felt weak. Though it was supposedly a strong shot, it didn’t have the effect he was quite looking for. A sign that he shouldn’t push any further.

Before he knew it, there was a Verpine crawling over his lap just to touch his neighbor’s earring. It seemed like the shot did a number on them and they were all too shamelessly eager to reach where they probably shouldn’t. “Mex… you shouldn’t touch strangers without their permission.”

Meyrath froze in place as the– what exactly is that? Whatever it was, it was touching him. A roach? Was that a roach? Oh kriff, those carry diseases, don’t they?

“Uh. Hi. Mex…?” He said, doing his absolute best to retain composure.

One wide red eye looked to the human next to him, almost pleading. “This is uh… of course, normal? Yes?”

Mex looked from Avery to listen, then back to Meyrath. “Oh… Can I touch your metal?”

“Uh- heh, surprise me?” He said to the barkeep, not looking away from the roach. As the bug got closer and closer, Meyrath leaned farther and farther back in his chair until he was nearly flat against the back of it.

“My metal- oh, my horns?” He’d nearly forgotten about the plating there until it was pointed out. “S-sure?”

“Ok.” mex stated, tapping their chitinous claws on Meyrath’s earrings, causing them to move a little bit.

The secondhand awkwardness alone was enough to make Eilen instinctively lean the other way. In spite of this, taking her eyes off an interaction so fascinatingly strange felt impossible.

There was a bug… touching… his ear.

He could feel that chitinous little finger tapping against the ring. He could hear the clink it made right in his eardrum.

The sisters had trained him for basic contact. Told him of other races, species, customs. They had not told him about this.

“Uh–” Was among the only few words that escaped his mouth as his body froze in place. His left eye tracked the movements of the roach.

“Is- is this– customary? For– your people?”

Do I do it back??

Mex stopped for a moment to ponder Meyrath’s question, unsure if it was customary or not. It certainly wasn’t something they’d done in the past but everything just… seemed so interesting to touch right now - the verpine couldn’t help but satisfy their curiosity.

“I do not know… is it customary for yours?” Mex asked, almost mimicking the alien’s question.

During this time, the bug noticed some dangling chains on the man’s shirt, Mex - feeling like they had permission to poke and prod as they pleased started playing with the dangling chains next.

“I am Mex, what is your name?”

“No…?” The zabrak essentially squeaked. It seemed like the bug was even more fond of gold than he was, now moving onto the tiny chains that decorated his top.

“I’m… Meyrath. Mey, if you prefer the uh… three-letter words. Are you from… here?”

“Yes and no.” Mex responded, now knowing their answer a bit more from Avery’s conversation with them.

“I was born in the Roche asteroid field. But have been here since. I do not know why.” they continued, unceasing in their insistence on playing with Meyrath’s shiny chains.

“Hi Meyrath, are you from here?”

He nodded along, as if he had any clue in the universe where ‘Roche’ was.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m not from around here. I’m… rather new to this planet, and I won’t be staying for long. Just passing through.”

The verpine stared their compound eyes at Meyrath for a moment before resuming their prodding.

“Passing through? Where are you going? Where are you from?”

Mex was curious as to where the other aliens could come from as they themselves weren’t originally from here. They enjoyed studying and thinking about the different walks of life that brought everyone here to this moment, but always found it difficult to talk to people. Mex was glad to have managed a conversation thus far.

Meyrath’s breath hitched slightly in his throat at the question. “I’m from—“ He paused, brow furrowing slightly. How was he supposed to answer that honestly? Or maybe he wasn’t. The sisters had taught him that lying was a virtue he could not afford to squander.

“I’m from Coruscant - Uscru district.” He finally said. The last place he had visited on his search. The one that lead him here.

“And I’m going home… At least, I’ll go home after I find my tar— eh, the person I’m looking for. Can’t return until then, and he’s unfortunately proven quite elusive thus far.”

The woman leaned back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. Emere was no fool to give in to boasting so she remained quiet, her emotions concealed behind a pair of black aviators and her usual stoicism.

“If you weren’t satisfied with the results, there’s always another round.”

Of course he wasn’t satisfied. The Barabel’s eyes remained locked to her eyes hidden by those shades of hers. He propped his elbow on the table, an open hand ready for another round.

His so-called mentor may have gained some respect with him due to her physical prowess.

She gripped the Barabel’s hand, and with two silent nods they fought to prove their strength again.

There was a bit of a stalemate to begin, both their arms and wrists not budging. But Druzk’s arm was making more leeway than it did the first round. Through bared teeth she tried pushing back but it was fruitless, the Barabel had successfully pinned her hand onto the table.

She cocked a smirk, drawing her hand from the table as if to say ‘good match’. Maybe this guy could be useful after all.

He was victorious! But, still, unsatisfied. It was a tie. The next round would determine the victor, he thought.

“One more,” he said, his voice deadpan.

The human obliged.

As the round before, there was a stalemate. Just as tough as before, this human surprisingly was. But it wasn’t enough as Druzk pinned her hand down.

The saurian smirked, pulled away, and leaned against his seat.

The Human seldom backed down from a challenge, so this was no different.

Once again, they fought for dominance and though she proved to be a challenge for the beast, she eventually succumbed to his strength. It was a close match, but he was the victor.

Her expression never changed as she drew her hand back, leaning back into her own seat. “Well done. Easy to look the part but much harder to deliver.”

Diy suddenly wanted a drink, and not the fruity juice she had in her glass. Nevertheless she resisted, downing the rest of the sweet concoction as if it was a shot. “I don’t know, Luk’s! Ya know what messes I’ve tangled with.” She frowned slightly, attempting to suppress the well of memories and emotions flooding her mind. Her aqua gaze flicked towards Avery briefly.

Sighing, a hand reached up to mess with her curly bundle of green locks. “But Doony seems like an okay guy, fun none the less. Loyal ‘n’ cares for those he considers allies. I don’t think it’s a bad idea, per se. Wulfie could use some more companions. N hey! He’d be fine with Bico, his closest mate has a bunch of pets,” she chuckled.

“Who are you looking for? I am from around here maybe I know!” Mex commented, still sprawled over Avery’s lap.

Avery calmly ensures that Mex doesn’t fall to the ground while attempting to maneuver from under the Verpine.

“If you need assistance, there are resources available as well. I could at least point you in the direction of some good people,” he offered Meyrath, always looking to help even if a stranger.

After a few minutes of quiet as Zuza sent out the question and information to her father, the Human finally looked back up.

“Not a fan of titles either huh?”

His cluck of disapproval had not been forgotten.

“No,” Thane admitted. The man flexed his fingers, which resulted in a series of fluid-driven pops through his joints. He mulled it over for a minute on just what exactly it was about titles he truly hated. The root of it, as it were.

“They imply value over others.”

“Last time didn’t end too well and I made vow I regret this very moment,” she chuckled. “But they were deceptive when I made it. I suppose it could make it null and void.”

Zuza nodded, comm device lazily resting in her lap as she leant back in her chair.

“They just seem pointless to me. S'pose it’s based in the same reason. Just cause you’re the boss of something doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone. Kinda silly to add little extras to your name for it. I call Zig captain but that’s a joke cause she’s cute rather than cause she’s in charge of the Voidbreaker.” She rambled a little, humming once before starting to get up, leaving the comm on the table, “Back in a minute, want anything?”

The Justicar shook his head, “Appreciated.” But no, he left unsaid. His tone and gesture were enough to convey it. He needed a clear head to continue his observations. So far, Appius hadn’t wrecked anything else. That was a good sign. It meant he might not have to stick around in the dry heat.

Zu nodded in understanding and got to her feet, crossing over to the bar. She returned a minute or two later, fresh drink of Twin Sun’s storm in hand and sitting back in the same seat she had before.

Sipping the drink, her expression darkened a little as she looked over at Thane, “Atty died?”

That was one of the snippets of information she’d gleaned from the brief scrolling.

The man nodded, bringing the file back up. It had been a Collective surprise attack. Which was ironic, considering several clans were in the middle of their own supposed surprise attack on the Brotherhood’s Super Star Destroyer. She had been reported lost in an exploding turbolift.

“A little vague on the return,” Thane pointed out.

Druzk leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms against the table. “You have my respect, Emere Galo.” Despite her not ever introducing herself to him by name, it was clear that the Barabel at least did his introductory reading at the very minimum upon induction.

“Certainly fits the bill. I was just hoping for a bed after a night of fun, not another soldier afraid to talk about their feelings.” There was more bitterness to the comment than they had meant. Luka mulled over her words, gaze cast down at the empty glasses on the table. They crossed their arms and laid their head down.

“I’ve just been striking out a lot lately, Diy. I’d hoped tonight might change that. Think I’m trying to climb the wrong tree.” An airy chuckle followed.

“Karkin’, Kobign,” Diy muttered under her breath. She twisted around to rub their back for a moment. “Oh honey, think ya might be barkin’ in the wrong forest, maybe? Ain’t a lot of ‘gentlemen’ in our corner of space.” She paused, then took a seat beside him, a grin flashing on her lips. “‘sides like a sarlacc’s hole am I gonna let ya not have some fun. What sort of gal friend am I then? So whatcha wanna do? Mingle, hit the stars, drag that Shista-pain back in here? Mm, drinking games always rouse the crowd, though clearly I’ll win.” Diy winked, gesturing at her fresh glass of 'tired’ water.

Tracinya looked over at Socorra with an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Sounds like you don’t need to honour it if you regret it so much. More so if they weren’t honest with you in the first place.”

Smiles and nods at Ro-Tahn. “A decent pilot eh? What happens if your turbo blasters quit firing mid cycle? How do you fix a broken hyperdrive weeks away from a decent Spaceport?” Sarai asks Ro-Tahn in rapid fire succession

Emere offered a single nod with a quirked brow. “At least I know you know how to read.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Ro-Tahn didn’t even hesitate in replying, “I’m more than a decent pilot. Dunga easily can take care of of the turbo blasters, a simple calibration and balance issue. The hyperdrive takes a bit of work, but I always a few back up parts, though I have several contacts who can come get me.”

There was a slightly smug and care free look in his smile, and a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. Bringing his feet up to rest on the edge of the table, he clasped his hands behind his head. “Do I get a prize for answering correctly?”

Sarai smirks at the cocky male, before replying with an equally cocky answer “There’s no prize for half credit. Though I can’t imagine everyone having access to a full replacement for a hyperdrive, or a team of weapon software engineers, so I guess it works? Maybe I’m just jaded after my long years of Naval service.” Sarai signals the Bartender again after finishing her sentence

Tahiri smirked as she sat in-between the two, watching the interaction. Ro-Tahn ussually cocky demeanor faltered for a moment, so Tahiri decided to help put him in his place a bit more. Glancing at his feet resting on the edge of the table, she turned to Sarai with a bemused look on her face. With a snap of her fingers, his feet were shoved off the table and his chair landed with a small thud.

“It’s rude to put your feet on the table. And we are not at home or a scum ridden hangout, so behave,” Tahiri’s eyes glinted while she flashed her own genuine fanged smile at Sarai, cutting off her brother before he could protest. “So, what are you thinking of having Sarai?”

Sarai giggles at the display of Force use, and smiles broadly for the first time that anyone in public had seen. “I prefer to order a Corellian Sunrise, a fresh Corellian fruit and small amount of Corellian non alcoholic brandy smoothie.”

Meyrath was surprised at the offers, but did his best to keep his shock hidden. Was everyone here this helpful? Asking complete strangers if they needed assistance with a task? Surely there must be some hidden agenda. The sisters always said, ‘never turn your back on an outsider’.

“Looking for a zabrak,” he told the bug - ‘Mex’, it had called itself. “One of my kind. Barefaced, no tattoos, and horns on the shorter side. Does he sound familiar?”

Still, he kept up the smiling facade, doing everything in his power to act like he belonged there, though the hesitation was slowly starting to seep through the cracks.

“I appreciate any help you would offer,” he said to the human. “What would you ask of me in return? I am rather good at taking care of problems, if I know where to find them. I would happily trade you my work for your information.”

While he and Appius spoke, Ruka felt and saw when Cora reentered the damnable cantina, escorting some Zabrak. Their eyes met briefly, and then the Zabrak was being introduced to Zuza, then the Justicar, then over to the bar to take drinks like he had no idea what he was doing. Talking to one of their newest recruits.

The Mirialan’s eyes narrowed.

He looked back to the Mandalorian.

“If it’s balance you’re looking for, Appius, we can try to help you, however we can. Starting with you not beating your prisoners.” An inhale. “You said first question. What’s the others? And is this why you wanna talk to Corazon too? ‘cause if it is I want him here for it.” His gaze darted over again, searching the room, lingering on each person, on his people, his husband, the newcomer, and he added, “Assuming I don’t have anything else to worry about. Yet.”

Mune slipped their datapad back into their robes. Not really involved in any conversation, they decided to slip out to check up on someone. Doon had not reentered with Corazon and so Mune had found themself concerned. They knew the other Shistavanen enough to know he was likely to want to be alone but… also knew that sometimes that alone did not include other Shista. They did not look forward to going back out into the stifling heat… but… They padded out into the bright sunlight and gods-forsaken-sand. Ugh.

Padding up to the other Shista, they lowered themself down to sit beside him. At least their white fur could not be nearly as warm as Doon’s much darker fur, but still the head made Mune pant some. They sat in silence for a moment before reaching out a hand, “Let me see that hand…” They spoke in Shista.

Although Avery shifted out from under Mex they didn’t mind, noticing the stool be vacant Mex shifted their body to sit on the now empty spot. They didn’t actually know anyone around here besides Zig - and Meyrath wasn’t looking for Zig. The verpine stared blankly at Meyrath for a moment before stuttering out: “No. Not familiar. Like you? Friend of yours? What is their name?”

Mex looked down to the stool they were now sitting in and realized they just stole it from Avery. They quickly swapped back to their original seat next to Zig. “Hi Avery, that is your stool.”

“Friend, yes,” he paused to clear his throat. “Family friend. Kerruk Massar is his name.”

He grabbed the drink that was handed to him by the barkeep - a red one this time, and took a sip. The sweetness was certainly a pleasant surprise - much tastier than the last drink, though that warm burning undertone was still there. Perhaps it was simply a favourite flavour around these parts.

Regardless, he finished the drink off.

“Would not back down from a vow just because I regret. Especially one that invoked some old karkin’ values. But it was deceptive.. but I also know they meant well.” She sighed and chugged her ‘tired water.’ Noting the Regent had left, she motioned towards his full glass. “Guess you get his round too. Oya!”

The Mandalorian watched the Regent leave, no sooner was he out of sight then the girl took his drinks and moved them across the table towarsds her.

“My gain!” she declared loudly, taking a large swig of her ale before shifting her attention back to the former Herald.

“So would you consider these people your friends even if they lied to you? If it was me, I wouldn’t be able to trust them again.”

Zuza nodded, the frown relaxing into a more neutral expression and she sipped from her drink. So… maybe not dead. But definitely not good. It certainly explained why she’s as metallic as she is. Dead hadn’t been the best assumption she supposed, but the Human couldn’t help but find MIA’s a bit too vague.

“True. Did it change her at all, do you know? Other than metal bits. It’s… insane how m.. f…” She trailed off, thinking of the correct ish sounding word, “Parental, she is sometimes.”

“Conflicted,” she actually chuckled, looking over to Ruka. “An accident with whole lot of mental powers being used gave me all their memories and some of my own to them. I think I understand them more than their own partner. I can read them like the back of my hand. So even if I did not trust their words, I am very confident that I know the truth.”

The Barabel snorted at the human’s comment. Without saying more, he provided Emere a curt nod and turned his attention towards the bar.

He ventured to two familiar beings: Mex and Zig.

“Mex.”

Druzk looked to Zig. “I am Druzk.”

Mex looked over to the previously mean Barabel. “Hi Druzk.”

“Hello Druzk. Avery Watson,” he said, and extended his hand to the Barabel.

Druzk glanced down to the offered hand, then back to the human’s face. He gripped his hand for a shake. Perhaps a bit too hard.

Mex stared at the handshake, and then offered their hand, placing it on both Avery and Druzk’s hands.

“I’m doing ok, but I’ll be better once I get a shot of your finest,” Ro-Tahn flirted with the bartender. His mood brightened and his cockiness came full blast back to the surface, as he leaned forward. “Ka'tey isn’t it? I don’t think I could forget a pretty face like yours.”

Tracinya seemed to appear puzzled. She took another sip of her drink before setting the mug back on the table as she leaned forward, resting an elbow on the dull, grey metal.

“Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth I think. I wouldn’t want the distraction to affect my judgement middle of a battle.”

“I would like a Corellian Sunrise,a smoothie of fresh Corellian fruit, and non alcoholic Corellian brandy” Sarai requested from the bartender

Meyrath looked between the four people now around him, swaying slightly in his chair. To Avery, to Mex, to Mex’s double that had appeared, and the new reptillian creature that had just approached him. He was a little intimidated at first, but the others seemed to be at ease, so he decided to introduce himself as well.

“Hi, I’m Meyrath!” He said, practically yelling.

Mex almost jumped out of their exoskeleton when Meyrath yelled out of no where, but their hand appendage remained awkwardly on top of Druzk and Avery’s handshake.

“… Hi Meyrath.” Mex responded, looking over to the alien.

“Hi Mex!” He said, putting his hand on top of the hand pile. A very strange custom, but he wasn’t here to judge.

Druzk wasn’t amused by what was going on. His orange eyes glanced at all of the hands conjoined together on top of his and Avery’s.

A sigh. Frak it.

“I need another drink.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Are they doing Huttball huddle? I feel compelled to join in.”

Avery returned the firm handshake, seemingly unfazed by Druzk’s firmness. He glanced at Mex as they rested their hand on his and the Barabel’s hand. Then Meyrath joined. Then Zig joined.

He chuckled awkwardly, pulling his hand from the conglomerate of diverse organic material. “Go team!” He offered two thumbs up to the group.

“Yes!” The zabrak exclaimed in response to the reptile. “Yes another drink for me too please!”

Mex was kind of confused with everything going on, but they was here for it. Wanting to fit in, they looked back to the Ka'tey. “Alcohol.”

“Oh, no worries. I’ll have a Comet-duster, with a chaser of whiskey, whatever your specialty is,” Tahiri rolled her eyes at her brother’s attempt to flirt, as she then smiled at the bartender. “Then if my brother will behave himself, I’ll let him order his own drink.”

“Hey!” Ro-Tahn glanced at his annoyed, then smiled again at Ka'tey. “I’ll take a Twistler, with whatever whiskey my sister is getting.”

“Surprise me.”

“Yes.” Mex responded to Ka'tey. Last time they had gin in the hyperdrive it tasted good and spicy.

Tracinya followed Socorra’s line of sight over towards the nearby group. The Sith watched them for several moments before speaking again.

“Don’t let me keep you if you want to go over. I have all these drinks to get through.”

“Who says I’m looking for a gentleman?” Luka said with a wicked smile. Though they knew they were deflecting. She was right. They were looking for things they wouldn’t find out in this corner of the galaxy. Best to just stumble into whatever they could find. And they had found a good friend, at least. Diy was one of the best.

“Let’s find grumpy and challenge him. At the very least, the hothead could use another cool drink right about now.” They waved down the barkeep to refill their drink and another to bring to their Shista friend.

Mex looked at their drink curiously, they flicked the straw and watched it spin around in the cup before picking it up and sipping the drink through the straw.

Sssssssip.

Meyrath took the drink and once again, downed the lot.

Druzk took his own drink and downed it in one gulp.

Doon registered Mune’s presence when they spoke, head still slightly spinning. The smoke cloud that clung to him like a visual manifestation of the heat probably didn’t help. He smothered the last half of the Cigarra into his armored forearm, putting out the smoke for now. He took in a long breath then exhaled, cutting a line through the cloud that haunted him. After a few seconds, his left paw raised and set down in Mune’s. it was palm up, displaying an array of shard stuck nicely in his flesh. His hand was thoroughly bloody, and a few drops stained Mune’s White fur.

Once more, Doon looks off to the horizon, eye unfocusing for a moment as he mentally prepped for what was coming.

Mune frowned, “This will be unpleasant, but, the glass need to be removed.”

With a soft sigh, they began gingerly removing the imbedded bits of glass. They removed the shortest blade from its sheath, their khukri to dig out the more difficult slivers. They knew from experience how uncomfortable that was. There was plenty that they wanted to say… one of which regarding the silliness of smaching a glass and getting glas imbedded in one’s hand. Mune chose to work in silence however. Only when they were done removing every sarp piece did they finally speak, “I am going to heal your hand now. You know what that means, right?” They clasped Doon’s hand between both of their’s, white fur by now fairly bloodsmeared.

Meyrath eyed the reptile, squinting as he watched the man down his own drink. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it, unlike himself.

And then a voice practically echoed in his head. Never show your weakness. Was not liking the spicy drink a weakness? Surely it had to be in this culture. Ah kriff…

Waving a hand to the bartender while still keeping the reptile in his limited peripheral, he ordered another drink, despite the unfamiliar warm and heavy feeling his body was beginning to take on. “Another! …please…?”

Thane stared ahead, comparing who he’d known to the reports since. “Unfortunately not,” the Justicar said. “We can’t change our core selves.”

Druzk took notice of the pale Zabrak’s reaction to his drinking. Was the man lacking pigment challenging him? Never the one to turn down a challenge, the Barabel slammed his glass on the table and followed up.

“Another one!”

“I’ll try, but sometimes it’s what they need,” Appius said as memories of Antei flashed in his mind. “I want to speak to Corazon for the same reason I spoke to you. Balance. I know the light is nowhere near as corrupting as the dark, if at all. Hell, I used to be a Jedi myself, but its reacting to the darkness in me. I wonder if maybe Corazon might know a way to make the light inside me accept the darkness the same way…” the Mandalorian paused a moment and lifted his head. Ruka might not have been able to see Appius’ eyes, but he could tell the Taldryan Consul was staring back at him. “The same way that Corazon’s light accepts your darkness.”

The Mirialan’s face softened just slightly at that.

“They’re not opposed, yeah, ay? They don’t have to be. They can be two halves of a whole,” he murmured, looking over at his husband. Then, he sighed. “Well, come on then. We’re right here.”

So said, Ruka approached his partner, leading the way over to the gaggle at the bar. Cora’s smile met him immediately, and the Pantoran reached out, taking his hand.

“How’s Sulvir?” Ruka asked quickly in Mirialan.

“Unwell. I tried to calm his system somewhat, but I think he just needs time. Mister Wright did a great deal of damage. We shall see.” Golden eyes tracked to the Mandalorian Consul and his chin dipped in greeting. “Salutations and Force be with you, Consul Wight.”

In response he offered a half growl, speaking in Shistavanen as he continues looking away. ”Whatever…” his ear folds back, lip curling in his usual snarl. His mind drifted, distancing himself from what was happening.

It landed somewhere else.

A market. Bloody fur. Bright red light, burning his eye. The scent of scorched fur The hum of a Saber, drowned out by shouts of alarm. Then, an empty ship. Silent hallways. Abandoned rooms, full of personal affects. A half completed childproof training room.

A whine slipped from Doon’s snarling maw, his right claw pressed hard against his armored thigh.

“A pleasure,” Appius returned the greeting, extending his right hand out to the Pantoran. “Ruka told me a bit about you, though granted, that was a while ago now.”

Corazon accepted the hand and shook gracefully. “He has mentioned you before as well. I must admit, I wasn’t particularly fond of the circumstances of your encounter…but I hope you are well.”

Mune nodded some, accepting the half growl as an okay to proceed. They take a calming breath, though they were perfectly calm as was, using that breath to center their mind and body. They drew on the Force, let it wash over them, through them and into their hands. Mune cradled the larger Shista’s hand in their own. It flowed, then, into Doon’s wounds, a gentle kiss of cool against all the heat they were surrounded by. Small as the cuts were, blood ceased to flow from them and flesh began to knit.

“I know it was terrible, what you went through, but…” Mune spoke softly to the larger Shistavenen.

They shake their head with a soft sigh. They doubted they were one to really speak of letting go of the memories and nightmares.

Mune released Doon’s healed hand. The Force quieted and the smaller Shista offered a bit of a smile. “Better?” Of course it was, but, it was an attempt to get the other to speak, to open up.

“You know, looking back, I’m not too fond of it either,” Appius allowed himself to small chuckle. “Regarding that damage, I take it… Sulvir… was it? Is not happy with me? He seems more angry with me than most in the room, and that’s saying something.”

Both Proconsuls looked at the Mandalorian with slightly widened eyes. Corazon’s cheeks purpled to lavender in embarrassment, and he started to make an admittence for the faux pas of talking about something or someone in front of them – a bad habit, honestly, that he’d indulged with his Mirialan family, despite Ruka’s general urges to teach the children it was impolite to do so – but Ruka was quicker, sharper, unapologetic.

“Not happy? You come in here assaulting a man, endangering people, throwing lightning. Might as well have set off a grenade for the same damage and lack of kriffing control, scaring people, threatening them, and you get to stand here like ain’t nothing, talking and what, because you a Consul? Because you’re a User, and ain’t nobody here to touch you? Because this place ain’t got laws for it? Struggling with the Force or not, you just did wrong, and ain’t no responsibility for it. Best we got is to clean up your mess. It’s his business what Sulvir is, but you’re the one that owes, and more than just the cost of some Droid parts.”

“Do you know what that man has done? DO YOU!?” Appius snapped back, perhaps a little louder than he intended. “Let me fill you in. Several accounts of homicide ranging in the dozens. There are children in the Caelus System right now without a father because that man murdered them in cold blood and laughed about it. So yes, I did assault a man. A scumbag of the universe that quite frankly deserved it! And yes, perhaps I went a bit overboard, but I was threatened too. He walks up to me like a big tough guy, and instead of being reasonable with me, decides to act tough and call on his droids! Could I have handled it better? Absolutely! But don’t you dare sit there and preach to me about assault, or scaring people, Ruka! This universe I’d full of people who have done far worse, some of them, I bet, are in this very room. Don’t you dare tell me that I think it’s nothing, because if I did, I wouldn’t be trying to talk to you and Cora right now!”

At this point Appius was stood up, his body tensed, but he released a heavy sigh. He could feel the dark side building again and curbed it before it could be released.

“Frakk me, I need a drink…” Appius said as he sat back down. “I knew coming back in was a bad idea…”

The Mirialan Sith only stared back at the helmeted man through his tirade, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.

“Drinking won’t help you,” he spat, and then went on, more evenly, firm and low. “And if you want our help, to know how we do this, then let me ‘preach’ to you, it starts with not thinking that anyone deserves to be hurt, or that it’s any excuse what they’ve done or that other people done worse. That’s not better. That’s just a cycle. You gotta stop someone doing wrong, hurting people? You stop them. You do it clean, you do it fast, you do your damned best to minimize the damage all around. But handling it better? Not losing control? That’s gonna start in you head. That starts with seeing people, not they mistakes. Believe you me, there times too that ain’t easy for me. Cora reminds me.”

“I wasn’t, but your Con has my attention again and my Pee-con is in lecture mode. Might not end well. I didn’t for me, I ended up with that vow.” She snorted and slipped out of the chair and snagged her spear before quietly making her way towards Ruka’s side. The tall weapon wasn’t needed until they venture out later but she couldn’t have some di'kut walking off with it and the last place Socorra would have expected Ruka to visit first was a karkin’ cantina.

“No. I’m glad she hasn’t though. Sometimes experiences change people. Maybe not their core, but what they show.” Zuza commented, softly. Despite the small frown on her face, she tapped the comm device, as if refreshing the messages would make new ones appear faster. Raised voices across the bar drew the Human’s attention, and she looked over.

And grimaced. “Oh kark, Ruka’s in lecture mode.”

Thane gazed over as well. His reaction was to sigh through tightly closed lips. The sound was something between a growl and a grumble. “So it would seem.”

Tracinya watched Socorra leave, picking up her drink and finishing it in several big gulps. She took a deep, satisfied breath and relaxed in her seat, placing her feet on the table and crossing her legs as she eyed up the remaining drinks.

The Mandalorian noticed Appius starting to get irate again in the corner of her eye, but she reluctantly chose to stay away from the Consul for now. Although the thought of him making yet another scene was almost too tempting to pass up, his problems were his problems and she knew she’d more than likely just make it worse for him.

Happy to watch from afar, Tracinya lit yet another cigarra before stuffing it in her mouth.

“To say he’s a sith, he’s real bad at it.” Zuza sighed, placing down her empty glass. She wasn’t going to do anything yet, but the Human was watching. She was more worried for Appius than Ruka, the latter of which had Cora right there and half the damned clan here to support him; And while it had been a dumb for Appius to attack the droids and go all lightning fingers, she wasn’t going to let a friend get ranted out, loudly, in a public place if it went beyond what was deserved.

Her foot tapped on the floor.

Eilen’s wrist links suddenly pinged, sending her ears straight up. “Ah– kriff, I, uhh– I gotta go. Kay bye!” Damn deadline, she’d almost forgotten. That droid was going to need a fix, one way or another. With a shy wave, Eilen ducked around the bar and scampered out the door, narrowly sliding between the two Shistavanen at the entrance. Her swoop was just ahead, and she’d be out in a flash.

While the hybrid furry girl hurried off, however, another furred lady was on approach, atop the back of a slightly sluggish varactyl. Kathka had opted to lose her jacket and go with shorts for this terrible weather, with her goggles and a scarf over her face as the sands blew by. A fresh cloud of dust was kicked up as Eilen’s Flare-S nearby tore off into the distance, but the cantina was just ahead.

Kathka gave her large reptavian beast a pat on her back and finally slid off, her braids and loose mane blowing in the desert winds. She raised her goggles and dropped the scarf near the entrance, where two familiar kin seemed to be standing.

“Sup, boys?” she said in passing to Mune and Doon. “This planet kinda sucks, eh?” She smirked, then stepped between them to get inside.

Her hair finally fell still inside, and the voorpak known to inhabit her shoulders finally crawled up from her back, tongue lazily flopped out. Seemed a drink would be nice for both of them. Kathka made her way toward the far left corner of the bar, next to a couple familiar faces, plus some newer ones they seemed to be taking in. Kathka slid up next to the pale and lanky one with the horns, eyeing his drink. It looked repulsive, but that just made it more curious.

She nodded upward toward the stranger. “Hey. Two questions: What kinda backwater Gamorrean orgy spat that out… and what’s it called, so I can try one?”

Druzk placed his glance against the bar top, turning his head over to the newcomer that approached the pale one he was competing with. He squinted at the creature that was on her. “What the hell is that?” he asked bluntly.

Kathka turned toward the voice of what appeared to be an enormous reptile, her crooked passive smirk unchanged. “He’s known across the galactic underbelly as Atrocitus the World Consuminator.”

At the sound of his name, the voorpak puffed up where its chest would probably be and raised its two front legs to let out a totally ferocious squeak.

Meyrath was surprised at the newcomers appearance, but did his best not to show it. “Ah yes, this!!” …what the kriff was this? He looked to the bartender. “Two more please! One for my new friend here!”

Druzk snorted upon the squeak of the creature. The name didn’t fit. It was honestly… kind of adorable, though. Even he had a soft spot for animals.

And then, the pale one ordered another drink. He wasn’t going to allow him to win!

“Another one for me!” he called out to Ka'tey.

Atrocitus leapt at Zig’s sudden appearance, then skittered off Kathka’s arm and onto the bar to go harass the loose bits on the zygerrian’s suit. Nothing that dangled would escape his nibblers!

Kathka gently stroked the critter’s back, then returned her grin to the zabrak. “Thanks, horn-head. I’m Kathka.”

“Self-righteousness on display,” Thane offered. He reached out a hand to rap upon the table, tapping with one finger and rolling like a wave from one to the next. He wasn’t overly pleased. With either individual.

He eyed the reptile again, ordering another drink right after he did. Aha! So it was a competition!

He wasn’t about to be shown up by an overgrown lizard on his first visit to this backwater planet.

Zuza’s attention stayed on the Mirilan and Human, toes tapping in a mixture of restlessness and anxiety. She didn’t like Ruka being called self righteous. It… well he wasn’t entirelt wrong. Not entirely, and she could certainly see why itd be easy to get that if this was the only Ru that ya saw.

So she shrugged, commenting simply, “I’m gonna go over if either of them start kicking off. I doubt either of ‘em need it.”

The man nodded and returned to his datapad.

Well, that was quick. Following suit with the stranger next to her, Kathka raised her glass. “Tails up.” Down the hatch, and kriff did it have a burn to it. Kathka’s tongue flopped out in disgust for a moment, after she gulped it down, but it sure did have flavor. A strange concoction indeed. She exhaled hard and shook her head with a flicker of her ears.

A hand gestured vaguely toward the zabrak and the barabel. “You guys got names, or do I gotta call ya drinkaholic and alcomaniac?”

Hell hath no fury like a voorpak’s noms on the flaying tidbits Zig offered, and like that, Atrocitus was hooked on the makeshift toy.

“Mmmmmmmeyrath,” the zabrak said, waggling his fingers “You got one? Name, that is? You got a name? What are you?”

“They said they are a Kathka”, Mex stated the obvious.

“A Kaaathka. Where do kathka’s come from?” The alien swayed in his seat slightly as he tried far too hard to think. “Oooh, oh I know it - it’s planet kathka.”

She flicked her hand in mild confusion, though she did seem entertained. “I’m a shistavanen named Kathka. What, you never seen a walking furball before?”

Druzk glanced towards the furred one once more. “The name is Druzk,” he replied to her. “At least answer her damned question,” he snorted, looking to the Zabrak.

“Hi, I am Mex. Your fur is rather straight for a ball.”

Mex went to go touch the shistavanen’s fur, but stopped remembering Avery’s advice.

“May I touch your fur?”

Kathka’s brow quirked, but hey, brave of him to ask. “…Sure?”

Mex pet Kathka’s arm, but seemed a bit disappointed. The chitinous skin made it so it didn’t feel as soft.

“A savstishingenen… fascinating… From planet Kathka of course - I know all the planets.”

Alarm bells were going off in Meyrath’s spiny head - surely he was poisoned by the way his body was behaving. But, for some reason, he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned in close to the wolf-person. “Heyyy, do you know a guy called Kerruk? Im here to murd- I, uh, I mean, haaaaaaaaaah… I’m here t’ say hiii. We’re buddies. Family buddies. Buddies of my sisters’ mom’s cousin. Y'know ‘em?”

Kathka waited for Mex, then pet his arm in turn. Kriffin bugs, so weird, so neat. When the zabrak was done, she patted his back.

“Yeah, I know him. He says you’re not drinking enough. Gotta keep up on those liquids in a desert like this.”

Zuza smiled at Thane, nodding to herself and leaning further back in her chair. It was a dangerous angle to lean at but the Human managed to find the perfect rotation to keep the chair at so it didn’t tip too far.

Druzk shoved the Zabrak on the shoulder slightly. “Yeah! You’re not drinking enough,” he goaded.

Ruka noted Socorra’s appearance beside them and nodded at her, though the increasingly loud drunks nearby were getting harder to ignore even in the midst of their conversation with Appius.

“I’m here to murd–”

The Mirialan’s head turned, and he looked at the stranger Cora had come in with narrow-eyed suspicion. And no small amount of exasperation.

Someone needs to switch them to water.

“I’ve discovered Ka'tay makes a decent not-fun drink. Not fruity thank kark.” Socks set her spear against the bar and flagged the bartender for 3 rounds for them.

“I would prefer fruity…” Corazon sighed, somewhat absently. Ruka just turned a flat look to the woman from the slurring, shoving bunch.

“Water is fine.”

“Ughhhhhh… such an ass…” The zabrak moaned at the nudge to his shoulder, and then hesitantly waved at the bartender. “T-Two more… The sweet stuff.”

“Nevermind! Make that 2 of these, something fruity (probably virgin) and water.”

“You can always try eating sugar if you want something sweet.” Mex stated, attempting to be helpful.

It felt weird having someone touch their arm, but not a bad weird. Senses on the inside of a carapace could only feel so much. Seeing the dangly braids, Mex went to tap one and watch it sway out of curiosity.

Mex spun back in their chair to face the bartender. “Hi, I need to… evacuate… fluids.” He awkwardly explained in the worst way possible.

“Thank you Zig.” Mex stated before going off to use the refresher.

Kathka’s braid slowly came to a stop after dangling for a bit. The woman herself seemed slightly perplexed in thought. “…How do those guys piss?” she wondered aloud.

Druzk gave the Shistavanen a shrug. “Who frakin’ knows,” he replied to her. “I didn’t even think they did piss.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, taking the drinks and handing them out. “You need more hands. I know fantastic bartender, if only he was here.”

After a silence that was almost awkward, Kathka whipped her head back toward the Zabrak. “Hey, you still conscious?”

He had almost fallen asleep without even realizing, but after the canine spoke to him, he jerked his head up and found the two drinks that had magically appeared in front of him.

“Mm. Mhm, yes, alive. Still alive,” he slurred. “M’ very hard to kill.”

He grabbed one of the drinks and poured it back into his mouth, nearly choking on it at one point.

“Ohhh… Does all of the planets have this spicy water? I think I could get used to this.”

Zuza blinked. Something… moved. It had been in the corner of her eye, among the chaos of the bar. But it was specific, aimed outward almost.

For a painfully comical few seconds for anyone watching, Zuza peered at everyone at the bar. Over the usual patrons, the arconans and new arconans. That pale new guy…

Zig.

“Oh. OH!” With a sudden burst of energy, Zuza got up. She scooped her comm device up with her, and grabbed her glass, “Nice meeting ya Thane. Hope to catch you around like this again at some point mate!” The Human waved to him, before making her across the bar and settling beside Zig, looking up at her partner, “Everythin’ okay?”

Kathka blinked. “…This your first time havin alcohol, spiny?”

He spat out an overexaggerated laugh and waved his hand. “Ppppppffffff, noooooooooooooooooo? I’ve had alcohol soooo many times. All the times.”

And with that, the second drink disappeared down his throat.

She nodded back with an expression that totally believed him. “Uh-huh. So about this Kerruk guy - What’s his gig?”

Zuza snorted blatantly at the kriffing awful lie from the right hand side, muttering more to herself “Sithspit.”

She giggled at Zig’s reaction though, a much gentler noise. “That you and he are.” She bit back more proper laughter at the captains verbal flailing, “I know the names Ziggy, chill out.”

She looked to Ka'tey and ordered another of the same, before looking at the kids and asking to the whole group more than anything, “Ya all having fun?”

“He’s an assshole.” Meyrath said. “Tha’s it. I mean, he probably has a job but I dunno what it is… So I’m saying he works as a full time asshole. Makes more sense tha'way.”

“You called it spicy water,” the Barabel snorted, shoving the Zabrak’s should once again. “Look at you. Can’t even hold your liquor. You’re soft.”

Kathka’s ears flickered. “Meyrath, eh?” She shrugged, looking back to the guy. “Full-time, that’s quite the commitment. You said you were just… lookin’ to meet the guy? You like makin’ friends with assholes?”

“Whaat? Oh kriff no, I’m here to–” But he was cut off before he could finish by the taunting of the overgrown lizard. “WHAT? I know what it’s called, they call it ALCOHOL! I learned that one minute ago!” He then jabbed a finger aggressively at his own horns. “Touch ‘em. Call 'em soft. I dare you, gecko boy.”

“Is that right,” she smirked in return, leaning backward against the counter so she could still maintain an eye on everyone. “Might need open more wyndows, gettin’ little hot at your battle station. In fact, keep talking my language and it just might become a danger zone.”

“Try to compensate a bit more, why don’t ya,” Kathka commented, leaning back with a wry grin. This was a good show.

Atrocitus scrambled past her and in front of Meyrath’s drink, trying to get a grasp on the rim as he sniffed and peered inside.

Druzk laughed. This scrawny nerf herder was threatening him? “Gecko boy,” he repeated. “That’s new.” A clawed hand reached towards the man’s collar, picking him up from his seat. “You think you’re funny?”

Meyrath let out a small squeak, airway cut off as he was dragged off of the stool. His one eye glared at the two swirling lizards infront of him…

Funny? No, he wasn’t funny. He was, however, very spiny.

The zabrak reared his head back and shoved his spiked cranium towards the lizard’s chest.

Mex returned from the refresher at a weird time. It seemed the new people they had met were… fighting? Was this normal?

Mex sat back next to zig, and leaned in real close. “What is going on with those two?” He basically whispered.

“Oh… what are they showing to each other?” Mex continued.

“Oh… Did Meyrath win?” the verpine was obviously very confused from the display.

She smiled mischievously at Wyn and set her elbows on the counter. “Eye am enjoying entertainment. But now that hero has arrived, the real fun starts.”

Druzk’s grip against the Zabrak’s collar loosened as he was knocked back slightly from the spiky headbutt.

His chest rumbled as a low growl escaped from him. Balling a fist, the Barabel swung towards Meyrath’s jaw.

Atrocitus got a little too excited and tried to jump toward the action as it got started. Kathka’s arm shot forth and barely caught him before he fell off the bar. “Nooot for you, Attie.” His legs continued to wiggle and flail at the ground no longer beneath them, and he let out a confused whine.

“No, no no,” she whispered back to him. Then, like a flipped switch, she shouted to the brawlers, “Twist a bottlecap down his throat!” without much preference for which of them took it to heart.

That hit connected with a very unhealthy sounding snap, and the impact woke him up more than a little bit. Meyrath stumbled back and his hand immediately went to his now bleeding mouth. Hm… Fascinating…

“Just so we’re on the same page,” he asked the lizard, “this is not a fight to the death, correct? Or is this the part where I bring out the knife? I’m rather new to this, my apologies.”

The Barabel’s mouth opened for a reply, only to be interrupted by one of the establishment’s bartenders. Druzk had no quarrel with him.

“Fine,” he snorted. He pointed a finger to Meyrath and then to the door. “We’re taking this outside.”

Hesitantly, the zabrak followed the other man out the door, his hand hovering over the hidden blade at his hip.

“Wh- hey! You didn’t answer my question!”

Curious to see where this ridiculous interaction was going, Kathka led Atrocitus to her shoulder and followed after them. A bit of heat was worth this wild show.

“Unfortunately not drinkin’ tonight. And you need to hold me to it.” She paused for a second, biting her ruby lip as a shit-eating grin appeared. “How about you make me a virgin? Or just.. bring me one.”

With the trio now outside in the unforgiving Tatooine heat, Druzk answered the question posed to him.

“If this were a fight to the death, you’d be dead already. No weapons.”

“Fine! Fine, no weapons!” The hand at his hip raised up, showing an open palm. He then hissed when they stepped into the sun. “Aaagh, this planet is too bright.”

Mex, now basically leaning on Zig asked her: “Should we be following them…? Or more drink?”

The Barabel raised his fists, readying himself. “Stop complaining,” he snorted. “Let’s go.”

Quiet for a moment, Mex stared off towards the bar in thought. What did she mean by testing metal on each other? Like hit each other with sticks? Droid battles? “Ok. What are they testing the metal for? Durability?”

“Oh. Ok.” The verpine said, still kind of thinking about what she meant. Maybe Mex could ask them when they were finishing testing metal.

“Alcohol.” Mex asked, raising a hand towards Ka'tey.

Eyeing the man, Meyrath thought to himself for a moment before he undid the chains that held his vest together and tossed the garment to the side. Had it not been for the tattoos, the skin on his body was so pale it could nearly be blinding in the sunlight.

And for someone who didn’t seem to know what alcohol was, he certainly had a lot of scars to indicate many fights.

Meyrath mimicked the lizards movements, raising his hands, though he kept them open and ready to grapple.

Druzk stared down the Zabrak. Was it going to be like that? Fine. The Barabel matched his opponent’s actions and swiftly tossed his brown jacket and the shirt underneath aside.

And then he charged, aiming a blow to Meyrath’s jaw once more.

The blazing heat was not a welcome return, but Kathka did step up next to her fellow Shistavanen again while the compensators threw off their shirts. She nodded to her kin once more, and decided after a moment that the scene could use some music. Out came her hallikset, not for any grand performance, but for a bit of atmospheric strumming to accentuate the sandy wind. Atrocitus crawled back under her flowing mane for cover.

“Suplex him by the groin!” she shouted between plucks at the string. With a wry grin, she glanced over to Doon and Mune. “They make a good show, eh?”

The zabrak managed to side-step the blow that missed his face by less than an inch. Quickly, he countered, and drove his own fist upwards, striking the reptile on the underside of his chin. There was a clack as a jaw full of razor-sharp teeth snapped together with the impact.

Druzk grunted in pain from the impact. He staggered backward, regaining his composure with a quick shake of his head. The saurian growled loudly in rage and charged toward the Zabrak, pushing him prone against the sand below them.

Straddling above, Druzk battered the side of his face.

He hadn’t expected the creature to barrel into him with his full body weight, and kriff, this guy was massive! Meyrath practically choked on air as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, back slamming against the ground. The first punch, he was too stunned to feel. The second however, he felt quite spectacularly. It was like a small bolt of lightning ran through his jaw, and through blurred vision, he saw two teeth fly into the sand.

Working his legs underneath the reptile, he kicked outward, knocking him off balance and off of his body. The zabrak then switched their positions and wound up for a punch.

Druzk was surprised by the Zabrak’s ability to escape from his hold. Not only that, but Meyrath was somehow able to shove the Barabel’s weight off of him entirely!

Eyes narrowed as the roles reversed. As the pale skin’s fist began flying towards his face, Druzk slapped away his wrist, punch harmlessly hitting the air next to his face. He snarled, using both of his hands to shove the lighter being off of him.

Druzk did not try to grapple him in return. Instead, the saurian jumped to his feet, readying himself.

“Get up,” he said flatly, wiping the trail of crimson from his jaw with the back of a hand.

He took that half-minute on the ground in an attempt to catch his breath, panting in exertion.

Beset was quick. Quick and agile, but she wasn’t nearly as strong as the lizard. Whatever he lacked in speed and flexibility, he made up for in weight and raw power.

Meyrath still much preferred fighting the lizard, despite his missing teeth. Why were they fighting again?

With a groan, he got himself up and brushed the sand off, not much good it did as it was beginning to stick to his sweat. He cracked his knuckles, and then stepped forwards, aiming another swing.

Druzk shifted away from the Zabrak’s punch with ease. Seeing an opening, the Barabel wound up and planted a fist right into the underside of his chin.

The fist coming towards his head was just about the last thing Meyrath saw before an explosion of red, and then black…

The pale zabrak’s body went limp, crumpling and collapsing ungracefully into the sand. With tattooed limbs and white hair sprawled about under the sunlight, his eye remained shut. The only sign of life was from the small trickle of blood dripping down from his mouth.

It did not seem like he would be getting up any time soon.

Kathka plucked a last few strings, then lifted her hands from her instrument to clap slowly. “Hot damn,” she muttered, then took a few curious footsteps closer. “…Well, he asked for it. You know if he’s got anyone around here with him?”

The Barabel smirked. Another victory for the day. He gathered his garments strewn in the sand and turned his attention to the Shistavanen as he began to clothe himself.

“Not a clue,” Druzk replied with a shrug. As a courtesy, he gathered the Zabrak’s clothes and tossed them atop his prone form; it was the least he could do to protect his skin from the sunlight.

After all, he wasn’t a complete asshole.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a drink,” he said to Kathka.

She smirked back to him. “Thanks. Should probably get him out of the sun, though. Just ‘cause he seems like an idiot doesn’t mean he ain’t green as hell.”

Zuza sat in agitation for a good few minutes. She’d nodded to Zig, doubting they’d reeeaaally hurt eachother. But after the pair hadn’t returned for a few minutes, the Human knocked back her drink “I’m gonna check on them.”

She stepped out into the pleasant heat, and sighed deeply at the sight shed kinda been expecting. Her eyes landed on the Barbarel, and after a few seconds of assessing that Meyrath was in fact still alive, Zuza craned her neck and locked eyes with Druzk.

“Really?!”

Any sign of life from the zabrak was contained to the occasional soft, drawn out moans. Other than that, he was out like a light.

The Barabel looked down to Meyrath and then back to Kathka. He snorted; perhaps she was right.

“Fine. Carry his clothes, would you?”

As Druzk moved to pick up the man and drag him back into the cantina, the voice of an unfamiliar human was directed towards him.

He was unphased. Unapologetic.

“Really.” He turned his head to Kathka, directed her towards the door, and began dragging his fallen opponent back inside.

“Of course. Share and share alike,” she gave him an exaggerated wink and placed the glasses on a nearby tray. Socks looked around for anyone that seemed to need one and caught the brawlers coming back in. She made a beeline right to them.

“Funny how it’s new members and not the Mandos that decided to tussle.” She set a couple of the drinks down for them, nothing one was knocked out but breathing. “Do yourself a favor and hydrate.”

Appius observed the sudden fighting that had occurred and, perhaps for the first time since he arrived here, not to do something and get involved. He’d done enough damage. It was someone else’s turn.

“So, what about them? Are you appaled at them?” Appius asked Ruka.

Doon pulls his paw back onto his knee and examines it, slowly closing then opening the claw to watch as there are no more wounds. “I’m fine. Thank you Mune.”

His ear flicks as someone approaches, then speak. He turns to look up at Kathka, not having expected to see her on this planet. As soon as his slight Daze was broken, he opened his mouth to speak , but she was already well passed, the doors to the cantina swinging shut behind her. Once more, the Shistavanen zones out for a moment, glaring at the shut doors.

Ruka turned to see what Appius was talking about and narrowed his eyes at the scene. The violet orbs slightly softened in concern at the one being dragged in, but others were attending to him. Good. “Oh for kriff sake. Just because they green don’t excuse them either. But look, even new folk have the smarts to take it outside.” The Mirialan’s judgmental glare turned back to Appius.

“Oh my, I hope Lord Mayrath is alright,” the blue Pantoran’s brows furrowed in worry. “Bless Socorra’s heart for bringing them non-alcoholic beverages. They need to stay hydrated in this heat.”

Zuza followed the pair back inside with a frown. “Why did you even start fighting? You were fine like 5 minutes ago.”

She was really damn confused, going and sitting beside Meyrath and checking over where he’d been hit. Zu was far from the ideal medic, but she knew the basics.

As Druzk took his seat, he glanced up to the new human arrival providing him with a drink, which he downed quickly.

Eyes on the other human that followed in after him. “Ask spike-boy when he wakes up.”

“I’m asking you Druzk.” She raised an eyebrow, but a smile crossed her face.

She couldn’t really tell how to fix Meyrath up but he clearly didn’t have critical issues. So she allowed herself to relax a tad.

“Sure will.” She looked around for an actual medic, her skills having slipped despite using them for years. Like Cole, she could if absolutely needed. Avery was very was deeply engrossed in conversation, Mune wasn’t there yet. “Cora?

Ruka sighed deeply in response, and shook his head, adding to Appius, “Any violence is always poison. Just like the damn booze. But you don’t wanna listen right now, that’s fine, we got this to deal with.”

So said, he started towards the gaggle, Cora already a step ahead of him to reach for the Zabrak at the beckon. The Jedi Proconsul have a gentle wave as if to tell the crowd to part.

“Thank you, Socorra, Zuza. Let me just have a look at him, and I will see what we can mend. Though I would not mind a physician’s assessment…” Saffron eyes went to Avery across the bar, unsure of his state or disposition.

“He’s had at least one,” Ruka muttered lowly to his partner, following the look. “Maybe ask. Maybe grab Mune. Or see if there’s a doc in town. Dunno.”

“Well…we can at least take down this swelling. I’m concerned,” the Pantoran remarked, because the Zabrak did look a state, and they’d carried him back in here after he’d started slurring and stumbling before any fighting.

Focusing on channeling the Light once more, Cora directed it to Meyrath’s body, willing it to mend.

Druzk rolled his eyes at Zuza. “He needs to learn to watch his mouth or he’ll get even more teeth knocked out of it,” he said in reply. The second drink that was on the table, he passed on over to Kathka. “Hydrate yourself. I’ll get you a real drink soon.”

Socks lifted another glass from her tray and set it down in front of the barabel before turning to Cora. “Wyn and I are here if need anything. They were slamming drinks, I’m sure he felt no pain.” Hefting the tray she turned to find another table to serve it to.

Water did sound nice. “I think I will.” Kathka downed the whole glass in one breath while the others took to healing. Once she slammed the cup back down, a dismissive hand waved toward Meyrath. “He’s got two hearts and an extra-thick skull. A bit of that space magic and he’ll be fine.”

She did hope he’d wake up soon, though. This guy seemed like he might be worth a few chats.

“Oh. Hyperdrive and gin.” Mex meekly mumbled back to Ka'tey. As evidently embarrassed as an insectoid could look.

“Oh joy.” Zuza rolled her eyes dramatically. She was still amused, but exasperatedly so.

Socorra sashayed over to Thane’s table, offering one of Wyn’s non-alcoholic beverages. “I bring gifts of fresh virgins,” she smirked at the Justicar without hesitation, her one arctic eye sparkling with mischief.

Thane’s eyebrow raised as he appraised Socorra and her offering. The man didn’t understand most social etiquette, but he was starting to think visitors with offerings of drinks must be a staple of cantina culture.

The Justicar nodded in assent and motioned towards a chair.

Mune followed the other Shista’s gaze. They rose slowly, brushing sand from their armour. A quick flick of their tail got rid of some of the annoying grains from there. Ugh!!! they screamed mentally. To Doon, they offered a soft grin.

“Let us get out of this atrocious heat. Find a table, and order some water.” They extended a hand and gazed steadily into their friend’s eye. “A quiet table. Come on.” They kept the hand held out to help Doon to his feet if he so wished for the aid.

Mune looked forward to escaping the heat and sand. Ugh! The sand!

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuurp the verpine sipped up the delicious cocktail through a straw as they had done multiple times before now. Mex just kept feeling funnier and funnier, it was hard to stop because the sensations and flavours were so stimulating. They started to really feel their exoskeleton, like they were just a Mex in a suit instead of just Mex. It started to become more difficult to get the straw in past the mandibles, but that wasn’t discouraging them.

“Hi Zig… thanks for taking me here.” Mex said, leaning over and onto their companion likely a bit too much.

Now her eyebrow raised. She was just giving out the drinks Wyn made, but alright. Carefully Socorra raised two glasses off of the tray and placed them down on the table.

“Taking tray back. Want anything stronger while I’m up there?”

“Uuuuuuhnnnnnnggggghh…” Went the zabrak, the first sign of life he had made in a while.

His head lolled, and the one eye that wasn’t covered by a patch fluttered open.

One hand reached up, clumsily feeling at his face until his fingers found the divot of a missing tooth.

“Whaaa….? Wha’ happen…?”

“You got the kark knocked outta you,” Kathka said, casually as could be.

Another moan, and the zabrak leaned forward, resting his head on the table.

“Who’s kark?” He grumbled.

Druzk glanced over to the Zabrak and slid over the lone glass of water that remained on the table.

“Drink up.”

Meyrath blinked heavily at the glass, squinting and studying it, and wishing to all forms of power out there that it would stop spinning. Finally, with a clumsy hand, he grabbed it and pulled it in close, taking a small sip.

“Mmh… thanks…”

Druzk provided Meyrath a slight nod.

“You’ve been destroyed enough for one day.”

“Cheers t’that…” He picked up the water and took another sip. “Reminds me of home.”

“What, getting your ass handed to you?”

“Oh, ok.” Mex stared at the cup for a bit before trying again. It still seemed a bit difficult to get the straw in, but that may just be their coordination failing. The glass was much easier to grip, however.

“When I was a nymph I did not have the credits for a place like this. Much easier to just use the moisture farm, drink from that.” Mex said, basically resting their head on Zig at this point. “Lots of people here…”

“Mmmhm.” The zabrak nodded. “Exactly that.”

Zuza giggled into her hand, leaning precariously toward the end of her chair.

“Well at least you’re used to it. Though I wouldn’t recommend annoying everyone ya come by buddy.”

“Better not,” Thane replied with a hint of regret. If he had to interfere with anything in an official capacity, mental cognizance would be important.

Even if he thought a good ale would be worth it.

The Barabel was curious. He tilted his head slightly. “….Elaborate.”

“Pardon,” Cora interrupted, “But hise do you feel, Mister Meyrath?” Behind him, Ruka watched the whole exchange with narrowed eyes.

The woman nodded and made her way to the back, dropping off the tray. She flashed a wink to Wyn and checked on Ruka before going back to the table with a sashay. Her swagger used to be far better but was still slightly off kilter from the atrophy but she didn’t feel like grabbing her spear to lean on. Most of the patrons were Arconan anyway, hardly a need to hide a disability although it was smarter to and did annoy her a bit.

“Socorra Erinos,” she said, sliding into her seat. She raised her glass with a burn-scarred hand instead of extending it.

Kathka leaned in curiously, ears alert as she propped up her head with an arm on the table.

Thane nodded, his eyes tracing the burn-scars before glancing down at his own. The tapestry ran all the way up his right arm and across a good portion of his back and side. Not that they could be seen. Or his myriad of other scars. Those who reached the decade mark amongst the Brotherhood tended to have their fair share.

Or were dead. Whichever came first.

“Thane Skotos,” he replied, his usually tightly controlled accent instead offering a lilting dance across his full name. Probably the last name’s fault. He raised his own glass in mimicry.

So, another former Herald, he thought to himself. Memories of Morgan flashed across his vision for a moment, causing a smirk to tug at the corner of his lips. The first leader of the Shroud Syndicate and the Deputy Grand Master sized pain in his arse. She had become a good friend.

Other memories worked their way through his thoughts. Dossiers from when he had studied them endlessly as Combat Master. “Seems you’re not dead,” he ended up pointing out.

He opened his mouth, about to spill all his juicy little secrets, but stopped himself at the last second.

“Mmno.” He said, pointing at the lizard.

The other man then approached him. The pretty one from earlier. “I feel like I just got punched in the head by a reptile on a planet far too hot for its own good.”

He paused. “Kriff I think theres sand in my pants…”

Corazon’s expression stayed sympathetic, polite, and concerned. Ruka rolled his eyes. At least he was already drinking water.

“Any more fights,” the Mirialan warned them, equally directed at the Barabel and Zabrak, “and we’re going to stop them. Druzk, consider that an order for you, or you can get back on the closest Arconan shuttle.”

The zabrak straightened up at the slightly more demanding words of the new stranger. His eye squinted at the other mans scarred and tattooed features. “Have we met before? You look familiar…”

Ruka’s brows furrowed at the man, expression dubious. Was that supposed to be a joke, or was he just mocking him? “Yeah, ay, I’m sure I look like a lot of people.” His eyes rolled of their own accord. “Look, unless you’re from Mos Kenny here or Iridonia, and know Tribe Lod there, I doubt we met. I don’t recognize you, anyway.”

“We’ve been to many planets,” Cora tried more diplomatically, touching his husband’s arm. “Are you from Tattooine, Meyrath?”

“Hm…” The zabrak huffed, and put his head down on the table once more. “Maybe another life then… No, ‘m not from 'round here. From uh… Coruscant.”

Cora exchanged a look with Ruka. The Mirialan scoffed.

“Right. Lie if you want. Just don’t start anything else with nobody.”

The Pantoran offered a thin smile. “And be careful with yourself. No need to aggravate your condition.”

Druzk glanced to Meyrath and then looked back to the others. “He won’t have to worry about my fists.”

“Good,” Ruka said, moderately mollified.

She studied his mannerisms and speech with a practiced eye and ear. The Sith remembered the long nights and days that the Arconae had her analyzing holorecordings from every arena match going as far back as their archives did, as well as the files they had made on certain members, and the intelligence gathered that she had added to them over the years.

Her mostly-raven head slightly cocked to the side, a small smirk lighting her ruby lips. A discolored lock of hair fell into her good eye with the motion, revealing the tongue-in-cheek skull eyepatch over the missing one. She tucked it back to the side.

“So are you, it appears.” The woman’s Socorran accent was thick and harsh like the Black Sands itself, every syllable over-pronounced as if equally important. “Is that what we shall drink to? Not being dead?”

Thane ran a hand through his gray-black hair, the short strands easily slipping between his fingers. His pale skin faded between hues, as could happen with his race as their emotions shifted. It wasn’t super noticeable, but it was there.

“Not for lack of trying, I suppose.” Thane’s monotone returned, but the trailing lilt still threatened to break through. “Not being dead,” he declared in toast, and sipped his water with a grunt of dissappointment.

“No kick.”

Doon looked up at Mune, offering a paw to help lift him to his feet. For the first time Mune has seen, the black Shistavanen looked.. tired. Eventually, the paw is accepted. And though he does not rely on it to stand, he still holds it until he goes to brush some sand off his armor. “Inside..” he repeats, a growl rumbling through his voice. “After you.”

Mune gave a firm nod then led the way back into the cantina. They made sure Doon was right behind. it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light of the establishment. Of course, why would there be an empty table? They manage to not roll their eyes. Well, I know just the spot then…

Mune caught Doon’s eye and motioned to follow. The smaller Shista led the way over to the table occupied by Thane and Socorra. “I hope it is no bother, but, may we join you both?” The question was directed to both occupants.

Mex was just about done drinking for now, and they looked back at the droids that they had only half finished repairing. The Verpine noticed a congregation around the table. They must require help with the droids

“Hi Zig, I am going to go finish fixing the droids.” Mex stated, before finishing their drink, and going back to the droid table where Kathka and company were.

Sitting next to Cora, Mex looked at the astoundingly destroyed Meyrath. This puzzled the Verpine as Zig had mentioned how they went outside to test metal. Did they test it on themselves? Druzk also looked pretty banged up. Maybe he could ask how their metal tests were conducted? Were they going to use it on the droids?

“Hi Druzk, hi Meyrath, did you two test metal? Is the metal ready? What are you using it for?” They asked innocently, genuinely perplexed.

Druzk turned his head to the Mex-insect as they approached his table. What the hell “metal” were they talking about? Testing what metal? Fortunately for the poor Verpine, the Barabel figured what they meant pretty quickly.

A smirk.

“Yes, we tested ‘metal’ on each other. Mine was better than his,” he replied.

The Verpine’s head shot up in surprise, antennae twitching in thought. What did Druzk do to make their metal stronger? He did not answer what it was going to be used for!

“Ok. What is the metal used for? Are you going to use the metal on droids? Do you need help?” Mex offered out of curiosity.

Well, at least Wyn’s concoction tasted good when she downed it. …Socks was glad he couldn’t hear that.

“Mmhm. Been having these not-fun drinks all night, watching everyone else enjoy what I assume is really good smuggled imports, being Tatooine and all.”

She peered towards Ruka, still keeping an eye on him and Appius. The latter seemed more so impulsive than murderous, but if something happened to Green on her watch, the osik would hit the fan.

“Yeah. Not for lack of trying. I was in coma for four years and only just got back up and running. Since then I’ve learned hard way I can’t drink like used to. Which is humorous to me at least, I would’ve thought having been Marick’s student I’d have learned to handle poison better,” she chuckled.

The woman looked up as the Shista pair came back inside and seemed to head their way.

“I am terrible with introductions. Would you like full formal pomp and circumstance or the simplistic?” It needn’t be said that Socorra knew Atra - or rather, Thane - was now the Brotherhood Justicar.

She smiled politely to Doon and Mune but it was not her table to give permission for.

“The ‘metal’ is used to fight. It can be used on droids if they piss me off. You can’t really help me with it.”

Mex’s eyes had a hard time conveying any form of expression, but their antennae kept twitching and moving as if they were processing. The Verpine was definitely confused and stuck on trying to find the answer.

“Ok. So you work on battle droids? So you can weld? Is this a snap-component? Can I help?” Mex asked again, more curious as to what this metal was then.

“Metal? What?” Meyrath was confused. Confused, drunk, and far too concussed to understand the meaning behind that. “No metal. We just punched each other until one of us dropped…” He groaned again at the pounding in his brain. “Evidently that was me.”

Now Mex was extra confused. The two were testing metal, but weren’t? They used their fists? They punched each other?

The Verpine stared quietly at the two. “Ok. So you both punched one another with metal and you lost? To test the capabilities of this droid part? Can I help?”

Druzk laughed. “I would love to see you test your ‘metal’ against the Zabrak. He wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Mmmmnnnnnnnoooooo….” Meyrath groaned from his face-down position at the table.

“Ok. But I don’t have metal to test, so I do not think I can do that anyways.” Mex stated matter-of-factly.

“Thank you…”

Thane scoffed and shook his head. Introductions were a pain. Once more, he thought about whosoever decided titles mattered.

The man’s black-gold eyes fell upon Doon and Mune, then the free chairs at the table. Deciding his quietude was at an end, the Justicar slipped his datapad away and nodded in acquiescence.

“By all means.”

“One of these days, maybe I’ll give you some.”

Mune motioned for Doon to take a seat, “Thank you.”

The snowy furred Shista pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat. They gave a nod to Thane in thanks and a smile in Socorra’s direction. “Doon, meet Thane Skotos…” said so casually, as if the Firrerro were not the Justicar. Mune does not even continue to say what it is Thane does. “Thank you both. Felt it would be quietest sitting with the both of you, avoid the noisome crowd nearer the bar.”

Mune had already shifted their gaze to study said noisome crowd, studiously taking in the goings on. They had already made to reach for their own datapad but managed to control the urge. Drunken brawls did not make for good observations anyway… Alcohol was had, silliness ensued, fists were thrown, surprise! Mune grinned a bit to themself. They glanced to the larger Shista, as if to check on him.

“Simplistic, it is,” she smiled and sipped before turning back to the Shistas. “How are you two enjoying amazing climate?”

Doon followed Mune into the cantina, his eye focusing only forward, then the table he was led to. He watched his breathing, trying to keep an empty mind. It wasn’t working too well. He looked up at the rest of the table, recognizing Socorra. He examined Thane as he was introduced to him, recalling a few megacompany heads that looked just like him. They liked to assume the same air of levity, till they realized things weren’t in their control anymore.

He pulls out a seat, then lowers himself onto it. The wood creaks under the weight of the towering Wolfman and his armor. His gauntlets rest on the table, claws lightly digging into the surface of the wood. He rumbles as he responds to Socorra. “It’s lovely. A walk outside did me wonders.” His flat tone didn’t give away any of the obvious sarcasm.

Thane flexed his fingers, resulting in another series of cracks. He let his hands fall to rest on the chrome of his belt as he leaned back and appraised Doon. The man’s scar across his eye itched idly.

There was something about Doon that made him on edge. Unfortunately, the Firrerreon lacked the wherewithal to puzzle it out just yet.

“Embrace tranquility,” Thane offered sarcastically, not a fan of most places on Tatooine. He’d much rather a library. Or a cottage.

Mostly, something away from annoyances. Like people.

Mune turned their gaze to Socarra and answered in a very dry tone, “Simply lovely… Thinking about getting a place and everything…” Their tail gave a flick just then, shaking a bit more sand from the thick wintry fur.

“I’d much rather be amongst my journals and books analyzing visions…” they gave an exasperated sigh. “It is not so much this heat as this blasted sand.” They grumbled.

Mune nudged Doon, “It gets everywhere and with our fur… it just stays everywhere and itches…”

Socorra chuckled a little. “Socorro is even warmer. And the sand is black, reflecting it back onto you. Now you know why I keep my cabin so hot.”

Mune nodded some and thought about that for a moment. The Shista and their partner kept their room rather on the cool side, used to cold climates rather than warm. They could understand a bit better why it was Socorra would feel right at home in such heat and horrendous sand. Spirits forsaken sand.

“Fair,” they conceded with a grin.

Aay'han stepped over the threshold of the bar, she had been crawling from one bar to the next without much thought as to where she had been going and yet there was something oddly sobering about walking into a room full of Brotherhood members.

Her eyes scanned the room, some faces from Arcona were familiar and tucked into a corner she found her sister.

The silence that accompanied her entering the room was also unsettling.

“Hi?” The awkward rolled off the Half-breed in waves.

“Ok. So you will give me some of the metal you tested? I currently do not have a droid I can weld it to.” Mex stated, still evidently missing the point.

Meyrath groaned out a,“Hellooo” to the newcomer, his head still face-down on the table. He didn’t bother to look up, but raised his hand in a small wave regardless.

Thane nodded. Once again, his focus shifted to the act of watching. He watched every little movement within the cantina. He observed the newcomers, the chatter, and maintained overwatch in case he was needed. At the very least, Thane was beginning to relax somewhat. Appius seemed to have sorted himself out and The Preacher seemed to have given him some space. Perhaps unwittingly. The Taldryan Consul most likely could trigger Ruka again if he truly desired to.

Didn’t seem overly difficult.

That was a mental note that got filed away, but wasn’t something to put into practice just yet. That wasn’t why the Justicar was there.

He idly swirled his glass of liquid disappointment a few times before taking a sip. Perhaps he just might switch to something with a little spice.

“Hi, I am Mex.” the Verpine called out as the newcomer passed by.

She stared at her glass in thought for a minute and eventually looked back up to Thane.

“I vividly recall the name Atra going ‘round long time ago in my little arena social circle. Came up frequently in holorecordings too. I thought he alright on vid at least.” Socks shrugged and furrowed her dark brows. “But never saw him in the 10th war, in CHL5 he was a no-show, and never once saw him in Horizons either. I was a judge for a whole year and still somehow missed him. He disappeared entirely for a while. Then I’m out like light, and I saw in records that he come back in the meantime and wrecked the place. Was starting to think he just avoiding fighting me.” A smirk slowly returned to her lips. “Now I’m back, but he ain’t no Equite anymore, and hells he’s the karkin’ Justicar! Now what am I supposed to do with that?”

Thane smirked and finished his glass. “Find a coping mechanism,” he stated with a low chuckle.

Kathka was genuinely fascinated by this bug’s behavior. It was so foreign, yet consistent enough that it was becoming predictable, though that didn’t make it any less interesting.

Atrocitus finally emerged from her mane again. The ball of fur crawled down her arm onto the table to start poking at the zabrak flat across the table. Before he could harass the man though, Kathka smirked and gently picked him back up.

“Hi Mex. I am Kathka. This is Atrocitus the Consuminator.”

“Nah, not giving you that much credit,” she laughed. “But I do need one for just being back. Ridiculous how much things have changed.”

“Hi Kathka, hi Atrocitus the Consuminator. I’m Mex.” the bug introduced in the same formulaic manner they had done many times before.

Mex looked at Atrocitus curiously, head cocked trying to disseminate what manner of creature it was. “Can you speak, Atrocitus?”

The voorpak’s legs flailed until Kathka set him back down, at which point he immediately scurried toward Mex.

“He can’t talk, but he likes to put his teeth on everything,” Kathka warned with a grin.

Mune eyed Socorra across the table, listening as much as Mune does… which is not to say much, usually. “Change is not necessarily a bad thing,” the white furred Shista offered softly. “It takes strength of character to adapt and thrive.” Mune intended it as a subtle compliment to the woman.

“Ok. Do you feed him?” The Verpine asked, poking out a finger to the Voorpak.

“If you don’t be careful, it’ll feed on you,” Druzk joked.

“Hi Druzk, I am not food.”

“All the time,” Kathka assured.

“I’m sure some creature out there in the galaxy would make a meal out of you yet, Mex.”

“Ok. While I am alive that is difficult. Another detriment is that there is not much of value inside my carapace.” Mex responded, holding out their scrawny arm appendage for emphasis on their statement.

Thane sighed and his eyes turned down towards the table. His eyebrows worked this way and that as he thought things over before glancing back up. “It’s all meaningless without a legacy.”

Mex looked back down at the creature and continued to tempt it with their finger. “Ok. What do you normally feed Atrocitus?”

“Finally, someone who gets it.” Her tone was nearly a thank you. It had been a bittersweet awakening. The loss of her legacy still weighed heavy. That a mere four years could wipe away everything she’d ever done and sacrificed for clan and brotherhood and left her forgotten, languishing as her body did. Ruka lectured her something fierce and didn’t understand until he had accidentally seen her memories and even then she still was not sure.

The woman anxiously drummed her scarred fingers on the table, the black bha'lir tiger tattoo seeming to dance with the moving tendons on the hand. It stopped and her arctic eye flicked up.

“What do you drink?”

Mune had to admit to themself, they did not quite understand legacy, not yet. They understood doing their best, adapting, surviving, thriving. They frowned some. They would not pretend to understand either, feeling that it would be somehow very disrespectful especially as Mune had a fair amount of respect for Thane and, was hoping to get to know Socorra and understand her story better.

“I am sorry, Socorra, if what I said was in any way… insensitive to your situation. It was not intended that way…” Mune’s ears lay back and they offered a sheepish grin. “Perhaps, some time down the line, as you become more comfortable you would do me the honour of learning more about you,” leaving unsaid that they could as easily do so from intelligence dossiers.

Mune took a breath, looking to Thane now and sitting a little straighter. “As for it being meaningless without a legacy, I apologize for my naivety but… I do not believe in anything being so meaningless as all that. Legacy or not…”

When Tracinya heard Aay'han’s flustered introduction she shot up out of her seat, in the process knocking a full drink onto the floor and almost falling flat on her face. The Mandalorian managed to recover from her stupour and strode towards her sister with her arms outstretched.

“Ner'vod!” The Entar exclaimed loudly, reaching her fellow Taldryanite and wrapping her arms around her tightly. “Glad to see you in one piece, Aay. Wanna come sit over with me?”

Doon’s eye twitched at the mention of Legacy. His lip pulls back, caught between a snarl and a strange sneer. A Legacy. he looks across the room, not at anyone in particular, but so his eye couldn’t be seen by those at the table. The sneer fades, snarl remaining behind as he heartily growls out. “Legacy is all. But you misinterpret the word. A legacy is not a tale of battles won or planets conquered. A Legacy is those you leave behind. And how deeply you affect them. Friends. Family…. children. Only they carry your true, undeniable legacy. Stories can be forgotten. Blood cannot.” His metal engraved claws dig a few centimeters into the wooden table. His eye was drawn back to the table by the tapping of Socorras fingers. Watching the inked skin seemingly dance. “… anything strong.” He speaks softly, no growl, no rumble. Almost a hoarse whisper.

Thane affixed Doon with an even stare. “Do not assume.”

The words were flat, yet cold. A dark punctuation between each. His mannerisms did not change in any perceivable way, but there was a dangerous stillness to him that wasn’t there before and his skin tone turned silvery for the briefest of moments. When he sighed, his sharp canine teeth exposed themselves.

Thane’s entire purpose—the dedication of his every action—was his legacy. It wasn’t as simple as who he was to leave behind, but also what. He studied and learned so that he could teach and pass on. To make mistakes so those who come after never have to. He wasn’t so selfish as to leave himself behind. Stories and glory. Nor did he think that was all Soccora thought as well with her statement.

“Strong,” he finally repeated after Doon, a nod of agreement. The Firrerreon rose to his full height, glancing towards the bar. He looked back towards the table with a questioningly raised eyebrow and held up his fingers through a series of numbers as if to ask if he was getting two, three, or four glasses.

Mune eyed Doon for a moment before shifting his gaze to the man rising to his feet. “Just water for me, please.”

They wanted their awareness uninhibited by the effects of alcohol. One never knew when another brawl would break out, or some other situation. Mostly, it was a concern for their friend’s ups and downs.

Ria’d entered the bar with a gentle stride in his steps. He kept his hood up, vainly hoping he wouldn’t arouse any kind of suspicion, but in a room full of Brotherhood Force users, the chances of that were slim at best. He came with one objective in mind. Find Appius, and tell him how badly the Consul had frakked up.

Word had spread to the Caelus System and of course, the Chancellor, of his little outburst. Ria’d wasn’t mad, just… disappointed. The Appius that he once knew would never start fights in bars on scorching worlds like this. The Appius he knew would have had a bit more sense and responsibility.

That was the work of the parasite they knew as the dark side of the Force. Ria’d could feel it in the bar, and it made him uncomfortable. He scanned his surroundings and found the man he was looking for. Only one being in the universe would wear armor as eccentric as that.

Ria’d began his approach as he was suddenly interrupted by one of the bar’s waitresses.

“Hey, hun! You want a cup of Jawa Juice?” she asked politely enough for the Zabrak.

“No thank you,” Ria’d responded bluntly.

“Aww come on! Look around! Don’t be a stranger! Lots of fun happening tonight!” the waitress continued. Ria’d locked eyes with her and spoke one further sentence to her.

“You know I don’t want a drink. You will leave me in peace.”

“I know you don’t want a drink… I do apologise, sir. I will let you be.”

The waitress left Ria’d alone. He didn’t want to do that, as he was a lot more reserved with the Force than Appius was. Yet, he disliked this place, and the less time he spent here, the better it would be.

She raised four fingers without hesitation. The topic had wiped the smirk from her tanned face.

Thane deftly moved through the cantina towards the bar, flagging down Ka'tey. “Water and four of your strongest,” he requested.

She nodded and started serving them up whilst Thane turned back to observe the room. It was getting even more crowded. That ran the risk of annoying him. Still, he had found some of the conversation more…enjoyable than he expected. When Ka'tey returned with the water and four glasses of something dark and on ice, he nodded in thanks. Though he didn’t really need to, Thane reached up and gave a quick beckoning pull with his hand. The glasses rose and began to hover around him like satellites.

The Justicar turned to return to the table and navigated the crowd. He didn’t so much as spill a drop, his newfound orbitals weaving with alacrity away from any bumps. When he arrived, the man flicked his cloak back and sat down silently.

In order, the water came to rest in front of Mune, a single glass each before Doon and Thane, and finally two placed themselves in front of Socorra. Thane offered her a nod as they arrived.

Doon was zoned out, still trying to focus and clear his mind. The flash of returning gold lining caught his eye. He glanced up towards the man carrying drinks, then looks back down towards the tab- he wasn’t carrying the drinks. His eye snaps back up towards the Justicar, twitching as he watches the floating glasses orbit him, then glide through the air to the table, setting down infront of each other.

His lip twitches, looking down at the drink as if a platter of feces was just set before him. He remains silent, ear folded back against his head as he stares at the liquid. His claws dig slightly deeper into the table.

A brow quirked at the second glass and Socorra nodded back in silent understanding. She wrapped nimble fingers around one and waited for the near human to sit or raise his own as well as Doon, if he did. It was obvious the Shista was triggered, likely by the Force use.

Mune reached over and placed a reassuring hand atop Doon’s. “Breath deep, be calm. It was necessary due to the number of drinks to carry. He is not abusing it… relax,” Mune spoke softly in Shista, keeping their tone light. As light as their language got considering the growls mixed into it.

Mune nodded to Thane, “Thank you kindly.”

Thane nodded and raised his glass.

Doon’s ear flicks, listening to Mune speak. Every kriffing time.. every karking bar. Why not use a platter? Make two drips? Ah, it was easier, of course. Doon let’s slip a short growl as he lifts the drink, still looking at it like it was going to spit at him. He glances up at Socorra and raises his glass, then downs it. The burn causes his snarl to flare and he turns to look around the room, already considering putting distance between himself and this man.

Socorra noted how fast Doon was to down his drink and looked back to Thane, still holding hers. “Your toast.”

He tilted his head and thought for a moment, wondering what would be best to say.

“To lasting impact,” Thane said. “And better days.”

Mune arched a brow at the other Shista, “Doon…”

They glanced back to the other two and picking up their water, raised it for the toast. “To better days, indeed.”

“Well said.” She raised her glass a little higher before taking a good swig. Socks had long blown sobriety the week prior so she definitely hadn’t expected the kick from this one. Her brows furrowed and she sniffled. “Not familiar with that one.”

Mune took a drink from their glass, no kick to that! The Shista did rather enjoy the refreshingly cool water across their tongue. It was nice to cool down some after the stifling heat outside the cantina. How anyone could stand living in so much heat… Mune would never understand.

After vacillating about getting another drink, Avery reserved to refrain, not even bothering to get a water. He looked over his shoulder briefly to pan over the room, everyone seeming happy enough in their respective groups. The only lone soul he could see was Emere Galo. He never bothered the woman unless he absolutely had to and preferred to keep it that way. Then there was Doon and Socorra who he was sure he made to the top of their kill list somehow, but Mune was a familiar friendly face. There was someone else who he could meet.

He ventured over, to the table, standing with his hands lightly clasped behind his back.

“Room for one more?” He asked, his gaze panning over everyone with a cordial smile.

Having learned from the last set of arrivals, Thane didn’t wait to be prompted by Socorra. He nodded and gestured to one of the two remaining seats.

The voorpak seemed tantalized by the insectoid limb, eyes following it up and down. His little mouth clenched as gears seemed to turn in his head.

“Eh, whatever is on hand. He and I are both carnivorous, so I can usually pull something off my dinner for him. But he does like chasing tiny prey around, when I can get him something small.” Probably best that she neglect mentioning they were insects, Kathka figured.

Druzk eyed the voorpak as he eyed Mex. “You better be careful,” he said to bug-Mex.

The Verpine looked curiously at the Voorpak before switching from teasing to petting. Seemed friendly enough.

Avery accepted the seat and nodded to the near-Human with a smile. He took a seat next to Mune and extended his hand to the silent man. “I’m Major Avery Watson.”

Thane raised an eyebrow, noting the rank in addition to the name. He sighed, then accepted the hand with a firm but fair grip. The same one he would offer to anyone else. “Thane Skotos.”

Mune chuckled softly, sipping again from their glass. “A pleasure to have you join us, Avery.”

The hand made contact, and Atrocitus visibly tensed, emitting a light humming noise. His front legs suddenly sprang up, and the voorpak’s mouth opened wide, barely widening enough to get his tiny mouth around a digit. The needle teeth didn’t sink through the carapace, but he bit with just enough force to call it a nibble.

Kathka arched her brow. “I think he’s fascinated by you.”

“A pleasure,” Avery said, returning the shake with the same firmness before taking his hand back. “Good to see you, Mune. Doing alright, I hope?”

“He wants to eat you,” Druzk added.

The Verpine cocked its head curiously. “Ok. I disagree. I think Atrocitus the Consuminator likes me.”

Doon’s eye was pulled to the table as Avery Approached. The black shistavanen watched closely, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. He looked.. Tired. Not a common thing to see. He seems to look through Avery, zoning out for a few moments as he felt the exhaustion from all the ‘Excitement’

“As well as I ever am,” they said with a grin.

Socks’ neutral expression slowly evolved into a grin from ear to ear for days as Avery decided to courageously join the table. She sipped from her glass, eyeing the man for some time before speaking, her accent even heavier with the drinking. “Hot osik struttin’. How my favorite di'kut doing?”

With the knowledge of what that word meant now as a fresh Mandalorian, Avery cringed inwardly a bit but didn’t let his smile fade. “I’m… okay. How are you?”

Mune’s gaze wandered back to Thane, watching the man for a moment. He was in for a very amusing show now that Avery was here. The Shista could not help grinning before turning their attention back to Socorra and Avery’s conversation.

Mex looked over to the person next to them, they were not someone they had met before. Offering a little wave, they introduced. “Hi, I am Mex. Do you like droids?”

“I am fan-kark-tastic. Went to the play with Wyndell, in gown afterall. Although I think I left it at hotel in all that power outtage mayhem. Hm.”

Thane’s black-gold eyes flit between the two as he watched. He idly wondered if another drink was in order. Still, he was entertained.

Doon stared into the center of the table, eye twitching as he spaces out. He was so tired. Of everything. The memories, the stress, the people. Half of him wanted to go to the ship, sleep, and begin the process again the next day. The other half urged him to leave. Find a cooler planet, and vanish into the wilderness. Keep nothing. Own nothing. Worry about nothing.

“That’s great,” Avery’s smile grew, genuinely glad she put both the dress and tickets to good use. “Shame about the dress though. I quite liked it. You said it was cursed so maybe you don’t share the same sentiment.”

Meyrath jerked upwards, catching himself falling asleep at the table. He leaned back, smeared a hand across his face and noticed the hairy creature looming menacingly in the background. “You good?” He asked, hoping it wouldn’t lead to yet another brawl. His head was still spinning.

“I don’t think you’re good, bud.”

The Justicar noticed Doon’s empty expression. It felt familiar, but he wasn’t about to puzzle out all the specifics. Still, it was cause for attention.

Thane nudged Mune’s paw under the table, catching their gaze when they looked over and nodding towards Doon.

Druzk glanced to Kathka as she made her comment and then looked over to the Zabrak whose ass was handed to him by the Barabel with a smirk.

Mex was startled by Meyrath’s yelled out question, and looked to the target.

“Im… Not.” He replied in a pathetic moan. “I’ve had too much spicy water, this planet is spinning too fast, and my head hurts.

“Alcohol.”

Avery was a little weary about approaching the Shistavanen again, though was never opposed to helping him if he was in need. “Yeah, you’re not looking too good.”

“Calkanol, yes that…”

“Hi Druzk. The bartender told me to specify which drink. Friendly advice.”

Kathka poked out her tongue in thought. “…Yeah, you need a doctor.” She straightened up and raised her head to call across the bar, “We got a doctor in here?”

Mune winced some when their foot was nudged by a boot. The rubbed their now sore paw against the other paw and caught the look from Thane. They shifted their attention to Doon. Their ears perked they offered a bit of a smile and touched the other Shista’s hand to try and draw his attention. “Feeling okay? We should probably get some water in you.” They did not bother switching to Shistavanen.

“Here,” Mune put their own sipped from glass into Doon’s hands, “Drink some, please.” Mune made it sound like Doon would be doing them a favour by doing so.

“It had been cursed, yes. But maybe third time’s charm? Whatever, it finally served purpose. And if they have my dress, well, I must have their towel somewhere then,” She flapped a hand and dismissed the dress business. “And thank you so much for hotel reservations. Very fancy, very expensive. Unfortunate you ditched me before we could do all that, but it worked great in my favor!”

Doon was silent. His ear flicked as he hear the distant sound of a chirping bird. He could almost look around him and see the forest. Distant buildings, shacks and cabins dot the horizon. He was shorter, much shorter. Barely able to see over some of the wild grass that surrounded him. A roar approached from the sky, blowing the grass away as he was buffeted with wind. The scent of the wilds drowned out by exhaust and heat from the engines of a ship. Why were they leaving?

A distant feeling, his hand filled with a glass. It didn’t matter, his eye continued drifting closed, his good eye half shut.

Mune frowned some. “Doon, you need to drink some water,” they tried in Shista.

Avery ignored the the jab from Socorra and her attempt to get under his skin. He stated his reasons very explicitly and if she didn’t understand that was on her. He chose to focus on Doon, the Shistavanen looked like he was simply exhausted.

“Water is good,” Avery agreed with Mune and turned to Kathka’s direction to say, “Lucky he’s got a doctor and a healer right here.”

“Can’t force him to drink, but you can get him out of the heat.”

“This whole planet is heat,” Thane muttered. It wasn’t a complaint, just a statement of fact. It wasn’t even that bad. That said, he was with the furry crew when it came to sand.

The stuff got everywhere.

Mex looked back to Druzk “Ok. It is hot here, why do others wear clothes? I just wear as little clothing as possible.”

“Doon. You need to keep moving.” A distant voice from behind followed by a prod, pushing him forward towards the roaring engines. A flying boat? Made of metal? He stumbled forward through the tall grass, fighting against the force of wind. Others passed him, but it was so hard to see past the dirt and leaves being blown in his face. They moved fast, carrying things with them. Doon’s foot tapped something as he took a step, and he looked down at it. A small figurine, carved from wood. Someone must have dropped this.. He crouched and picked it up, wiping some mud off of it to reveal scales. Fish? No, it had teeth.

Doon made a soft rumble, slouching forward, teetering for a moment with his hands on the table barely keeping him upright

Druzk glanced to Mex, then to Kathka, then back to Mex again. “I wish some had that mindset.”

“HEH. Heh.” Kathka eyed the giant reptile sharply, then shook her head with a confident smirk. “Mex, one thing you find out about people real fast, is that they get insecure when they can see someone with better body parts. Everyone decided it was just respectful to just cover up.” She said, knowing full well how much of her was on display by default to cope with the heat.

“Ok. I’m not being disrespectful right now, am I?” Mex asked.

“Eh. I think you’re fine. I can’t see the things people get jealous about.”

Mex seemed contented by that answer. “Ok. That is good!”

Druzk glanced to Kathka. “I see plenty on you.”

She breathed in for a long few seconds through her teeth. “Don’t accuse me of being respectful.”

“Hi Kathka, you seem very respectful! You have nice pets too.”

“Thanks, Mex.”

Meanwhile, Atrocitus continued nomming on his finger.

Mune took a centering breath, “Doon… you may not hear me right now but, I am about to use the Force…”

They beckoned to it and it responded. The Force filling them, answering in a gentle whisper of power through their body. They placed their hands upon Doon’s where they were wrapped around the glass of water. Mune went still, eyes closed. The only movement in the slight quiver of their right ear as they focused that power.

That power flowed along Doon’s fur. Cool. Gentle. The touch of their power like the kiss of freshly falling snow. Mune guided it to accelerate the other Shista’s ability to detoxify.

Druzk leaned in close to Kathka. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked her, voice hushed.

The thought seemed to dance across her brow for a moment as Kathka looked off. Then, she leaned over and booped his nose. “Sober up, and we can have a conversation.”

Mex leaned in as well. “Can I come?”

Druzk turned and just glared at Mex.

Kathka genuinely busted out laughing, then patted his back. “Maybe, Mex. Depends on the conversation.”

A massive paw grabbed him by his scruff, lifting him off the ground. He’s turned in the air to be inspected for a moment by a huge head that glares down at him. Black and grey fur gave way to a snarl ”On your feet, Boy. We need to move.” he was set back down, this time, his feet touched the metal of an open ramp. He peered up into the open bay, then stepped forward.

Doon’s eye snapped open, tired, bloodshot. His grip tightened on the glass, causing a creaking noise, but no shatter. He looked around for a few moments, eye wild before he realized where he was. He lets out a growl, pushing away from the table and to his feet. His palms rest on the wood, letting him steady himself for a moment. He then spun and looked at the rest of the room. “Kark this.” He growled, stepping away from the table. His claws curled into his fists.

“Hi Zig, this is Kathka.” Mex greeted, gesturing to their new friend.

Mune felt the contact break quite suddenly. They exhaled, letting go of the accumulated energy. They opened their eyes and watched the larger Shista. They took a centering breath for a whole other reason. So much anger, they sighed softly.

“Doon, please, drink the water, it will help,” they managed to keep their tone almost placating, their ears half up.

“And this conversion is only between Kathka and myself,” he said flatly to Mex.

“Ok. There are a lot of people.”

Kathka’s ears flickered, and she glanced over. “Hey, Zig. How’s captaining around here?”

“Atta'girl,” she replied with a nod. “Hey, we got your back like you got ours. That’s worth quite a bit, eh?”

Doon ignored Mune’s words, taking one step, then another. Slowly working off the fatigue and clearing his vision. His eye was set on the table across the room.

Why? I need to know.

He didn’t say anything on approach, but his heavy frame and armor didn’t mean he was stealthy. He positioned himself behind the seat Kathka was in, his hands resting on its back as his eye closed for a moment. It would be quite obvious to her, that he wasn’t ok.

Mex looked to the new person, and cocked their head. “Hi, I am Mex. That is Kathka.”

Sensing the looming shadow behind them, Meyrath picked his face off of the table and stared, raising a brow to the hairy creature. He was just… Standing there? Behind the other hairy woman? Was this customary for this place?

“Uh… Hi? You… need something?” He asked him.

Looking to Kathka, Meyrath pointed at the looming figure hovering strangely close behind her. ‘You okay?’ He mouthed to her.

Mune sighed heavily. They shook off some of the fatigue. They would have to channel if they were going to do anymore healing. They looked down at their own still injured arm. It can wait, people are bound to hurt themselves some more if they keep drinking…

They sipped their water and glanced to Avery. “So… eventful enough?”

Kathka turned around. “Hey.” After eying him up though, her passive smirk loosened. “Whoa. The hell happened to you over there? You alright?”

Druzk glanced over to the newcomer behind Kathka, eyes narrowing.

His eye peered down at her, in a croaking growl he speaks in Shistavanen. ”When you found me. Why did you bother?” His lip twists and twitched, but he seemed solely focused on her.

Meyrath nudged Mex. “I guess we don’t exist.”

“Hi Kathka, is that a friend of yours? They seem upset. Do you require aid?” The Verpine asked, concerned.

“I exist. You just nudged me.”

“We’re both invisible.” He corrected. “We can only see each other. See? Try talking to him. He doesn’t see you.”

The Verpine looked at their own hands for a moment. “Hi, I am Mex.” they re-stated to the mysterious Shistavanen, waving one of their arms at the person.

A hint of confusion crossed her brow. Was he drunk? He had to be lost on something. “Just a minute, Mex,” Kathka pleaded, gently nudging the insectoid back. “Keep talking with the concussed horn-head.”

Then, she turned back to Doon, and growled back in her native tongue. “Why wouldn’t I bother? You were kin. You needed help. There was no pack to claim you. What more is there to say?”

Druzk snerked. “Heheh. ‘Concussed horn-head.’”

Confirmed that they were in fact not invisible, Mex looked back to Meyrath. “Ok. I am not invisible.”

Meanwhile, Atrocitus began skittering up Mex’s arm to look closer at the giant dinner person. The animal’s face was absorbed in wide-eyed curiosity.

“Guess he’s just blind then…” The concussed Zabrak mumbled before laying his head back down on the table.

His claws dig into the back of her seat as he steps back and bends forward, letting his head hang past his shoulders. Or, as far as it could hang with his metal chest plate. He holds the dejected position for a few moments, then rumbles out again. ”I don’t want this. I don’t want to remember. I want.. to go home.” he pulls his claws out of the wooden seat back, then pressed them to the sides of his head. He straightens, slowly dragging his claws through his fur. It was obvious what he meant. But He had no Home. Not a true one. Not one he could fully relax in. Not like Uvena, or what little of Uvena he remembered.

Mex returned the curious look, raising a hand to pet the creature again.

“Hi Atrocitus.”

Avery parted his lips to ask if Doon was okay but the Shistavanen had already stormed off. He looked to Mune with a friendly smile which faded slight as he saw their wounded arm. “It is… what happened to your arm?”

Mune glanced down at it again and shrugged before grinning. “I was helping my husband on a job. I… spaced out… hurt myself.” They leave out the… funnier details.

“Got some first aid, did not really feel it necessary to heal it.” They lifted it so Avery could see the white bandage that went from the wrist to about mid bicep. “He got annoyed, dropped me here, and continued on the job.”

Kathka’s brow creased. “Hey, look… Calm down. I can see you’ve been drinking. Talk to the bartender, get some water and any bread, if they have it. I have to wrap up here, and then I can walk you back to the ship. Alright?” Her hand gently patted his shoulderpads, the closest she could manage to his actual body. She definitely wasn’t the kind of specialist he needed when this happened, but it was something. After a pause, she stood and tried to pull him up as well. “Up you get. We’ll make it quick.”

Druzk glanced up to Kathka as she stood up. “What’s going on? Who’s this guy?”

Avery nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad he’s looking out for you, Mune. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if it were someone I cared for. And if you’re going to be stubborn to heal yourself, at least allow me to take a look at it.”

Mex was extremely confused. Their new friend just up and left after speaking a lot of words they didn’t understand. Were they being disrespectful?

Mune rolled their eyes slightly, “Nothing stubborn about it, just saving my energy for healing others.”

They shifted position so Avery could more easily access the arm. Adjusting their cloak so it will be out of the way.

He helps her attempt at moving him, eye closing for a few moments as she pulls on his armor. In a low voice, one that Kathka hasn’t heard often, he asks ”What are we leaving behind, Kathka? We have nothing. No pack. A legacy lost to the void.” He runs his paws over his face and snout again. He didn’t want to feel anymore. But Kathka had always fixed him. At least, enough to get ticking again.

Kathka huffed and propped herself on his shoulders, trying to stand him upright. “You’re focusing on the past, when you need to focus on the future. We’re gonna keep talking about this, but you **need* to get this alcohol out of your system. Alright? Come on.”*

“Goodbye new friends,” Meyrath called out from the table. His voice was muffled from his face still being smushed against it.

Without looking up, he pointed a claw-tipped finger at the lizard whose name he still didn’t know. “I think that weird guy was jealous of your good looks.”

Thane felt somewhat uneasy as he sat there dropping in and out of the conversations he was listening into as quickly as his eyes worked around the room. He didn’t like wasting his time or energy, but already he’d been there longer than he intended.

Other people were always such uncontrollable variables. Free will was annoying like that sometimes.

The Firrerreo flexed his fingers once more, eliciting more cracks from his knuckles and joints. He would probably set aside some time to spar when he got off-world again.

Druzk turned his attention to the Zabrak and snorted.

“You might be on to something, spike.”

Zuza laughed, coming out of her thoughts and humming at the sudden shove she got. Zig! She grinned, adjusting how she sat so the Zygerrian could half sit on the chair, half on her. Zu was a leaning a bit unsteadily towards the edge of the chair, but gripping onto Zig to prevent her from slipping was managing to keep herself balanced too.

“Well I’m glad you RVPSed.” Zuza laughed a little as well, returning the kiss with one on the lips and settling her head on the captain’s shoulder.

She looked over at the new kids, fuzzy vision leaving her a bit confused as to exactly what was going on, but giggling at the interaction as Zig did.

“Ok. Maybe you are not wearing enough clothing and offended them.” The Verpine looked into their empty drink before placing it back on the table and knocking over the glass clumsily before quickly setting the cup back upright.

“Ok. I think more fluids are ideal.”

“Water, not alcohol,” he replied to the bug. “

“Ok. You want some water? I will go get some for you.” Before Druzk could respond, Mex was already up and at the bar.

“Hi. May I have a Hyperdrive with gin, and a glass of water?” they asked the bartender.

Mex held out their hand appendage in anticipation of the beverage, but stood there stunned as they were splashed with alcohol. They stood silently, arm outstretched as Wyn re-made the drink and handed it to the bug.

“It’s ok.” Mex quietly said, before returning to the table to Druzk and placing the water in front of them.

“Hi Druzk. Here is a water.” they informed, taking a sip of their own drink in turn.

Attempting to sit down, they almost knocked over their own chair, before awkwardly recovering and acting like nothing happened.

Avery examined Mune’s arm a slight frown on his lips as he let out a soft chuff. “Your body would still spend time and your energy trying to repair itself. Sounds like a lose-lose situation.”

“Alright,” he said knowingly as he began working around the botched job that were the bandages. He reached for his medpac, retrieving the bacta bandages to replace the old ones. Satisfied with his work, he gave Mune a pat on their back. He offered up his trademark smile.

“You should be healed up pretty soon now. But I hope you daydreaming was at least pleasant for getting yourself banged up like this.”

Mune gave a nod and grinned, “The book was fantastic! The pillar I walked into was not.”

They frowned, perhaps realizing they may have let on more than they intended there. The frown turned back to the grin as they laughed a little at themself, “I mean… big monster beast! Totally jumped me when I was not paying attention.”

Thane nodded with a serious expression. “The Pill'ar beast claims many lives each year.”

The man sipped quietly, which somehow enhanced the joke.

Avery chuckled glancing between the Shistavanen and the Firrerreo. “Totally. I’m sure you were surrounded by its minions as well. Dangerous stuff. I would hate see what happened to the beast if a few scrapes is all you came out with.”

Druzk eyed the bug with amusement as they attempted to take a seat, fail at it, correct their mistake, and manage to sit.

“Hi, Mex. Thanks for the water,” the Barabel replied, almost mockingly, before downing it completely. “So… I’m tryin’ to be real nice right now: you should probably stop drinking.”

Mune just chuckled and gave a shrug. “I chose to show mercy, this time. Pill'ar’s tend to be an important proponent to their ecosystem. Much like their cousin, the Col'umn.”

Mex looked to Druzk with confusion. “Hi Druzk, I need to drink to survive. I think maybe you have not had enough to drink. I can get you more water.” the Verpine mentioned, reaching for the glass before accidentally knocking it over on the table. Thankfully it was empty.

They stood up, reached further towards the cup and darted off for more water.

Mex returned with more water and placed it carefully in front of Druzk before sitting back down and taking a sip of their drink.

“Hi Druzk, more water.”

“Without them, it all crashes down.” Thane offered a mock toast and finished his drink.

The Barabel took the glass and downed it just as quickly as before. “Y'need water not alcohol. Get water for yourself,” he snorted.

“How kind of you, Mune. I’m sure Col'umn will appreciate the the support of their kin.”

Mune groans and shakes their head. It has now gone too far. They smirk and roll their eyes.

“Aww.. Wynnie is just so adorable sometimes!” she shouted her honesty a little too loudly.

“Are we still doing ‘dad jokes’? That’s it. Ya’ll need to drink more.”

“That dashing fellow? Only sometimes?” Avery pointed at Wyn and chided the Soccoran with a friendly smile.

“Dad joke?” His smile faded slightly as he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He had done his best to conceal the most recent development in his life.

Thane idly tapped away on his datapad for a moment, sneaking a holo of the table while he was at it. Eventually, he sent the message off to its intended recipient of Marick.

Across the bar, Ruka sneezed.

Mune smiled to Socorra, “Welcome back.”

They scanned the cantina, as if checking to make sure everyone was behaving and no one needed any healing. They polished off their water, “Dad jokes, they are a form of super cheesy pun. One gauges their success by the intensity of the groan the joke incites in its receiving audience.”

Socks whips out her datapad and starts murmuring everything she types. “Marick, this Atra person is pretty kandosii. There is something about those golden eyes. Why did you not introduce us years ago? Also, why are you not here! -Socks”

“Thanks, I come by them honestly,” the Firrerreon remarked, his pale cheeks starting to flush from the alcohol. Strongest they had, indeed.

“I didn’t pluck out own eye, so don’t know if came by honestly.” She looked thoughtful for a second, like trying to figure out if that is even proper Basic.

Thane shrugged, idly touching at his chest where a tapestry of scars and years of damage were hidden. “Imperfections don’t detract. They make it unique.”

“That’s what I say! Avery does not agree.” The woman rolled the R of the name with the quickest of flicks and held out a burn-scarred hand to gesture to the other Human in the group. “He had his removed. I still don’t get.” She flapped the same hand in the air, dismissing it. Old argument is old. “Whatever. Mine all turn to Sith runes now anyway and there are plenty.”

“Well, I suppose you can confuse my preference with my opinion but I’m of the mind of Thane here. I agree that they make an individual unique, but I don’t believe they add to my appearance.” Avery said, attempting to defend his position. It felt like he was constantly under her scrutiny no matter what.

“That’d be a hard ask,” Thane muttered with a smirk, saying the inside part on the outside. Was it normal for sassy snipes to pop into his head at all times? Absolutely. Usually, there was an indominable filter in place that prevented them unless he was feeling particularly pleased about one.

Rarely did he actually mean them. They just fit.

“I could stand another drink!” The Justicar suddenly declared. All pretense of his tightly controlled accent was gone and the words danced on his tongue with a strong lilt. If you asked him where it was from, he’d say ‘the north’. Inquire for clarity and he’ll remark that lots of planets have a north.

Mune arched a brow, watching Thane. They debated opening their muzzle to tell him to maybe have some water but… well… This was entertaining. Mune turned their glance to Avery and smiled, “My fur hide any scars I may have. Most of them are pretty miniscule.”

They glanced to Socorra and added, “I will say this… With or without the scars, you are both unique in your own ways and fascinating people.”

Avery flashed Thane a confident smile. “You would indeed be harried to improve upon perfection.”

He offered a nod of agreement to Mune. “Though, scars were not the only thing that drew me to Socorra.”

She read her datapad and looked up. “Aww he no come. Lame.” Then to show she was paying some attention, she replied to the three in order. “Good, I not drinking this last one alone. Thank you, Mune. And who is hairy?”

“Well obviously not the scars, you hadn’t even seen them yet! So what was it?”

“Certainly not me,” Thane offered and tugged at his collar. The unfortunate shirt under his cloak tore at the collar, but he managed to show off some of his chest. Burns worked over his shoulder whilst a rather vicious looking scar ran from his upper shoulder and down towards his side, disappearing under the fabric but certainly continuing. The depth of the scar implied a near fatal wound but it was faded to the point of being old. Very old.

“Maybe you don’t remember what happened to your dress the night we met, Soccora…” A cocksure grin was on his lips as he rested back in his chair.

“Ok. I already have a drink though.” Mex stated, holding up his half-empty drink.

Socks leaned forward to get a better view, appraising the skin imperfections like they were treasured antiques. “That has to be interesting story.”

“You need water,” Druzk reiterated. “WAH-TER.”

“Ok. Everyone needs water. Not just me.”