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Destiny's Rest

 
Oln's focus stays on the drinks as he responds not having to look up when Raxiil touches her scars. "Bah, they accentuate your beauty. What's the point in a face that can't tell a story." He finishes the fifth layer on one of them. "Anyway everyone loves a rugged woman." Not slowing in his pouring his head raises to look at Raxiil and then at the red head. "Well maybe not everyone, hmm." Oln finishes the first drink. Seven separate layers of fanciful colored liquid with a long straw sticking out.

He turns his attention to the second. "Keep you pants on." He pauses for a moment and considers. "No, keep your pants on. Art takes time, you won't be wooing anybody out of their pants with the mess these turn into if I rush."

"As far as old Oln," he says enjoying he was anything but, "Alcohol has and will always be a close personal friend. The women," Oln has to resist shrugging for fear of ruining the drink, "lets just say you're far to rare a breed for my taste love. The galaxy would be a better place if every girl was given a blaster at six. Contesa is getting one at three." He smirks.

Finally done he mimes wiping sweat of his brow. "There, if these don't work it won't be my fault. So you want to them over or would you like old Oln to put in a good word for you." He puts on a serious face though its clear he's still smiling underneath. "I must warn you, for full effect they shouldn't stir them. It will still taste fine but the romance of the drink comes from watching the moons descend in turn. And careful of her friend, she's a cold one. She didn't even find me funny. Can you imagine."


Raxiil chuckled at Oln compliments, "Thank you, Oln. That's very kind of you to say."

She smile at Oln's mention of her daughter. While a gruff and flirtatious man, Raxiil knew he was a good husband and an even better father, "At 3? Wow, you aren't kidding about this female-as-tough-as-nails thing, are you?" Raxiil chuckled the smiled, "How's the "little bundle of joy" doing?"

When the drinks were ready, Raxiil quickly looked over her shoulder at the red-head and caught her looking at her, "As awesome I am, I always seem to make bad first impressions. I can't seem to shake the suspicion most people have of my people. Would you be a sweetheart and take them over...maybe sell me a bit better? I just got off the supply shuttle and I look quite the mess..."

Finishing his drink the man of law place the empty glass on the counter ”another round” please wasn’t in his dictionary as some other words ”some find you irritating, maybe because you talk so much, kid” he doesn’t mean to offend, simply it is his way to say things ”I have no news about your stolen stuff” turning to Raxiil ”you know, you have written troublemaker all over and some people smell cheaters, watch out the galaxy is full of trash, armed trash ” received his second glass, regardless of its condition he pick it up and walk at the table of the cathar that just left, looking it ”he hides something, I know” found nothing, grumbling he walk back to the counter, still hold the drink, staring at Oln ” you’ve seen nothing right?” the ex soldier keep the order in a rigid but usually fair manner still he doesn’t ask or expect cooperation

Oln chuckles. "Be the same if she was boy. You should have seen my toys at three." He's joking of course, even mandalorians have to wait until they're five. "I'll talk your horns off about my little soldier, once I get back from recruiting someone to help you work out those cockpit kinks then." He loads the drinks on his tray. Then before he can move the humans a thought makes him take a pained look. He turns back to Raxiil. "Just promise you'll stay away from Contesa when she grows up, okay. Already promised the wife I'd shoot anyone who touches her before she's married. And that would be a damn shame." Not waiting for a response to his joke Oln puts on a smile and continues to the table.

"My pretty little ladies my nose owes you a debt. I should have known you would help me fill my quote just by being your lovely selves." He places a drink before each of them, but 'looks' at the red head. "Seems you have an admirer over at the bar. Ya the pretty one, not the one that looks like he picked a fight with a grenade and lost. She's a big spender too to our fortune. She's one of the best pilots we have at Destiny's Rest. Unfortunately because she is she's so rarely here, its a treat to meet her." Oln leans in and holds a hand to shield his mouth from Raxiil's direction. "I've seen her fly. Those large fingers just seem to know what to press to make the ship purr." Oln spots the redheads eyes dart to the woman at the bar. Good, He thinks, don't think I could work any more innuendo in. Straightening he gives an exaggerated shrug, "It's beyond me though." He raises his hands and moves them around randomly. "I just sort of fumble around in the dark and pray not to break anything." Huh, guess I could.

Oln smiles at the women and raises his hands together in a pleading gesture, "She's a regular so please, for me, be sure to thank her before you go." As an afterthought he tells them how to properly drink the moons. As he walks away he slowly shakes his head and speaks loud enough he knows the pair at the table can hear. "She's saved how many lives, looks like that, and she's still as shy as a school girl. Its almost cute."

As Oln returns to the bar he pull out a rag and starts wiping down the counter to look bartenedery. "Well no one would ever consider me light handed, but then it's hard to beat a good old fashion frontal assault." At the call Oln moves over to Jack and refills the glass. Oln believed Jack's harsh words when they'd first met but they'd spent so many shifts together he'd learned. "You old charmer you. I bet you were just as bad as me eighty years ago. Well maybe a little worse with the ladies." He turns to Raxiil, "What you think love, the old man seem the ladies man?" When he returns his attention to Jack he shrugs, "And what can I tell you old man. Being blind makes it hard to spot my nose let alone sinister doings."


As the zabrak approached with what appeared to be a stubborn gait, Kal quickly lowered the datapad. The man must have fought for the republic, the downtrodden solider look was a dead give away. Still, there was no telling what kind of trouble could be following him. "Don't usually get many visitors back here, anything I can help you with?" The man's attitude was stand-offish, but no worse than a customer soured by additional complications. He gave him a friendly fanged smile, ”I know most get caught up on the daily news over a cup of coffee with the sun shining in through a port window. I just happen to prefer a cold beverage and this wonderful artificial lighting.” He sarcastically pointed to the light fixture above his table, which started flickering again almost as if on key. This line didn’t appear to humor the man very much, so Kal tried another tactic. ”How about you and me share a beer after I finish my paper,” he paused for a moment as if contemplating ”On second thought, I might be awhile, why don’t you go ahead and start without me.” he said as he threw the man a couple credits for a beer. ”I’ll be over soon if you want to regale me with war stories.” That hit a nerve, must of been one not deadened by the alcohol, however it looked like the man would keep it cool in the bar at least. Thank the republic for that, Kal didn’t know if he could afford to owe Oln the money for replacing the tables, he already owed him one to many. There was no telling if the man would hold the grudge after Kal left the bar, but he would definitely be watching his back.

A janitor stands with his mop. With the head of said mop resting in the hovering bucket of soapy water next to him, Nik Nep sighs deeply, letting his eyes assess the greasy footprints and spilled drinks that covered the floor of Concourse 2B West, home of the Mumbling Mynock. Typically, the short, unassuming Sullustan would have allowed one of the many cleaning droids to handle the dreaded Concourse 2B West, but apparently one of patron of the bar thought it would be clever to test the droid's tolerance for various galactic spirits. As a result, Nik Nep now stands defiantly before his latest challenge.

Removing the mop from the hovering bucket, he plops it unceremoniously down on the deck with a splash. Looking up as he begins to wet the floor, he sees that the cantina is growing increasingly noisy. Young people, he thinks to himself, they show up for a few months, take a few of Marko's credits, and leave a mess behind. Most of the staff was young now, a result of the Marko's rapid and ambitious expansion plans. Nik, who has been sweeping floors for nearly twenty five years now, still remembers the days when Marko's father ran the place, back when the Destiny's Rest could only host four ships at a time. Before the war sent things over the top, he thinks.

Nik rolls his eyes with frustration as another pilot sloshes through wet floor without even noticing on his way to the bar. I'm getting too old for this, he mumbles, having half a mind to go over, stop the man, and demand he mop it himself. A hand in his pocket, Nik feels his chance cube, considering going into the cantina and having a quick drink. He had forced himself to stay out since he had arrived; the very idea of gambling at one of the Pazaak tables terrified him. Removing the cube from his pocket, he saw it once again showed red. Not today. He would still have a chance to get back at the young revelers, perhaps with the "stalking mouse droid" trick, a classic prank from his book. But for now he simply continues to clean the deck, a janitor with his mop.


"You asleep Kat?"

Visions of fire had danced before his eyes, bright orange and crimson shapes shifting and changing, dancing with a reckless abandon that threatened to burn the galaxy around it. The flames had seemed so real, so vivid .....

"Not anymore." His voice was a deep purr, a baritone that rumbled like distant thunder. It had the ill effect of making him seem nastier and more aggressive then he was, but that usually didn't last once a person gave him a chance.

Katjur could feel the heat radiating off of his body, seeming to come in intense and painful waves. Desperately, he wanted to submerge himself in a pool of icy cold water. His species limited ability to sweat made heat painful, and often caused a less then appealing sight when they began to pant.

Sucking in one large gulp of air, raising his arms from the relaxed position they had been in before, he linked his fingers and then brought them down slowly, starting from his chest and pushing past the fur and clothing, eventually stopping just below his stomach.

"... er... We're back." Jaken Carter was a fairly simple man, trader who spent most of his time going from station to station, making a small profit dealing in commodities that were left off most shipping manifests.

Pushing himself up from the cargo bay floor on which he had been residing, Katjur looked down at the tiny man, holding his gaze for a moment. Kat found he enjoyed these moments of silence and respite, as they provided an opportunity to collect his thoughts. Once people started rapid firing quips and sayings ... he sometimes lost track of the dialogue.

Humans seemed especially prone to fast talking and acting, seeming almost impulsive when compared to many other races.

"Thank you, Jaken. I realize you did not need a guard for this trip, and yet your hired me still." Bowing his head slightly, it was as close to a handshake as Katjur got, a sign of respect and acknowledgement he shared rarely with those who employed him.

The credits he made would cover his room and board, and might just kept him fed, through the next month or so, while he continued to try and find work on the station.

As Katjur walked down the landing ramp, which slowly extended before him, he pondered on just why he was there. There was no real reason, or attachment, keeping him to the place, yet he had been calling it home for nearly half a year. Something kept him there, a feeling of disquiet that he couldn't push aside.

With purposeful stride, Katjur made his way to the bar, paying what greetings he got in the halls and elevators with a cool stare and grunt. Most knew the Trianii was simply deep in thoughts, and meant no disrespect from the gesture.

The bar had it's normal's, and a few others of note. The Iktotchi pilot, Mirraluka bartender, and Cathar mechanic all seemed to be exchanging words, and beers from the looks of it.

While Katjur had met quite a few of his kind, and many more of the feline like species that inhabited the galaxy, he found the Cathar a bit of an oddity. But then again, he found anyone who preferred to work with machines and metal a peculiarity.

Sliding up close to bar itself, Kat gave Oln a long stare, before he finally caught the man's attention. After months of patronage, the bartender knew the big cat had sweet tooth, and favored the Arkanian Sweet Milk that was becoming rarer by the days. as trade lines and networks became taxed, as the Sith Empire sought to regain control of it's former territories, Arkania included in that list.

What to kill next? Kourahks stares attentively at his star map through his tinted vizors. He was about 2 months out from his next hunt, he just had to figure out where, and in the meanwhile he would do a little misc. work for Marko on this behemoth of a rest stop. Destiny's Rest hadn't had much in the way of excitement for a man like him, so he basically just cops a squat and keeps an eye out for suspect characters. He has never had much interest in the goings on around this sector, with the Republic/Empire struggle and all; All he feels is apathy for the interplanetary struggle, though he hopes he isn't dragged into it in some way or another.

Well, time for my rounds. Every 30 or so he walks around the main passages of the station just to appear as if takes interest in the task, though he has none. He takes a different path each time to increase the likelihood of him finding something to do or something interesting to see, though he is ultimately disappointed until he doubles back to the Western section of the station. He happens upon a very unhappy looking Sulusstan mopping up what was unmistakeably what some Mercenary rabble left behind. Seeing the little man was shorthanded, Kourahks stood until he was taken notice of.

He takes care to turn on his voice modulator and asks "Would you like some help?" He stares through his visor as the little man processes the inquiry.

At the words of Oln , Jack looks up searching for memories “ when I was your age I was too busy listening my Sergeant shouting me orders, back in the days free time was a myth, today its all too easy, still I had my adventures” he drink his whisky, placing the glass on the counter ” since hes paying it , give me a third” referring to the cathar, what appear to be a relaxed Jack, something rarely seen, last just a few moments as another one enter the bar, the Trianii face isn’t new but hasn’t spent enough time around to pass Jack approbation, he stand 180 cm tall for around 90 kg but next to the creature he looks quite small, still he stare at him, studying his moves, at some points he leaves his position walking slowly to circle the big cat ending to the other side, still leaning on the counter he clear his voice to draw Katjur attention ”hey you..” positioning himself so that the word –security- written on the uniform is in plain sight ”…oversized cat, this is a quiet place and I want it to remain quiet so don’t cause troubles and keep your claws far from…” he seem to think a moment” everything, you do not want an holiday in a human sized cell, don’t you?” this is a treatment reserved to every stranger Jack don’t like or consider dangerous, near everyone fall in one of the two category

Katjur turned slowly from the bar, as Jack slid up next to him and quickly sounded off a standard warning. Kat was used to this kind of treatment, as the cautious and slightly hostile reaction was something he had been met with since his entire life.

Looking down, he pondered the man and his words. Kat wasn't one prone to quickness of action, prone to taking long moments to decide how best to get his point across, without bringing about any undue anger or frustration.

"My name, is Katjur Kiljarr, and would kindly appreciate being called such." Kat's deep voice carried throughout the bar, sounding almost like distant cannon shots. Green eyes peered at the human, an aging soldier from the looks of it.

"Your warning is received, and understood, although unneeded. I plan on causing no trouble, and bringing no harm. Your "human" sized cells should then, hopefully, remain empty for the duration of my stay." Nose twitching slightly, left ear reflexively following, Katjur continued to study the soldier.




 

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