Noventa - A Star Wars Story

Fey had a trunk full of pretty clothes... but for a place with this kind of reputation, she had opted for her dark blue duster with plain clothing underneath. She didn't want to get some of her nicer clothes stained or dirty, after all.

"Codpiece, huh... do I even want to know what that is?" she mused quietly to herself as she pushed on the door briefly and entered the establishement. One of the lekku casually draped across her neck and over the opposite shoulder as if it was some fashionable accessory.

Farkas had decided to give the rougher Providencetown a visit. It wasn't really his speed most of the time, as he was pretty easy pickings for thugs and would-be thugs. But he also felt cooped up sometimes, living out of the ship. Sometimes you just have to see new places. And while he might not be much of a tough guy, he was relatively intelligent and well-informed. A bit of research before visiting and he learned of this particular bar's rules so he figured it for a safe-ish place. Sure, he could be scouted and targeted for a later time but he also had skills that folks in this type of establishment might be interested in potentially paying for or protecting.

Making his way to the bar, he looked over the place with a measured eye, taking it in. Fixer-upper would be a generous term.

House calls in Providencetown are not Yara's favorite thing. Sometimes they were perfectly run-of-the-mill, but other times... stopping for a drink afterward becomes highly appealing. She doesn't know this establishment well, but she's never patched up a victim of violence from here either, which means it's a safe enough place--or at least keeps its own sort of order. And it's in the neighborhood.

She shoulders up to the bar and pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment before ordering, choosing half-randomly from among the familiar labels in the back bar. Watching the bar-being pour is of course no defense if the spirits have already been watered down in the bottle, but one can't control everything in life.

Nursing her glass, she half-turns with her elbow on the bar to unobtrusively scan the crowd. It's certainly... mixed. But the music is surprisingly passable. Farkas doesn't really catch her eye--yet another human spacer doesn't stand out much, even if he is better dressed than the average--but she takes a bit more note of the Twi'lek woman, raising her eyebrows slightly. She looks too expensive for this place.

Yara herself appears neither expensive nor shabby at the moment; with her white jacket folded away in her case, she looks like any other skilled worker at the end of the day, a bit neater and more prosperous than some of the other patrons but also visibly tired.

Too expensive for this place wasn't completely off the mark, though she also looked like the type who rarely paid for her own drinks. Fey easily navigated her way to the bar as she carefully eyed the labels that were on display there. Quick! Decide on one before you reach the bar! Cool people who belonged didn't contemplate their choice of drink at the bar. At least not according to holo-movies she had seen.

"Pint of Admiral, s'il vous plait," she gave a slight nod to the tap with the logo of a Mon Cal with admiral-stripes on his shoulders. With the drink being poured, her indigo eyes surveyed those gathered, first taking in the tired-looking Yara nearby before looking at the others gathered. Quite the mix, it seemed. And then looking back to the bar to notice the nerdy-looking Farkas as well. "Rough day, non?" the twi'lek commented, her voice hanging slightly in the air making it hard to determine who she might be talking to.

Farkas looked to the twi'lek... not sure if she had been speaking to him. It was a crowded place. And she was an attractive young twi'lek. And he was a balding older man with a few extra pounds. Either she's talking to someone else or... is this that kind of place? His face turns a little red as he tries to get the bartenders attention to order a mixed drink.

He long ago learned to judge the strength of liquor at bars by ordering something that specifically dilutes it first and watching the pour. He didn't mind a weak mix. As long as you can taste the liquor in a weak drink then you know you'll get your money's worth when you order it straight. Can never trust these seedy cantinas with their liquor.

"Somewhat beyond the average, but," an ironic shrug, "it's Providencetown." Yara answers Fey's question without too much regard for whether or not she'd been the intended target. The human woman has a clipped and polished Core Worlds accent, not at all like the local Noventan drawl. One sip of amber liquid later, she adds, mouth quirking slightly, "Or perhaps that doesn't mean much to you. I surmise you're not from around here."

The reply coming from something that sounded like Core-accent was both interesting... and a little concerning.

"Humm... there is some things that don't change on many worlds - the names, but not the meaning." Providence didn't seem to have much providence. "But, tu is correct. I'm a new arrival here."

"Oh, Gorram it, where are those louts that I pay to keep things goin'?" Kaneesa seems to appear from a corner the others don't see coming. "When we see new faces, we try to put our best appendage forward an whatnot."

"Ya'll been served? The main attraction will be on stage soon."

A young twi'lek carried a stack of empty glasses back behind the bar. There he fliped open a washer, slipping them in one by one, and closed it. A soft humming emanated and the blue bar-back was gone, off to clean more tables. He moved between the patrons with a practiced unobtrusiveness, practically dancing out of sight lines and making a quick stretch to snatch an empty glass or bowl. Then back behind the bar he went to repeat the process all over again.

"Hin!!!" Kaneesa looks over, jerking a thumb over. "Come on and help here."

The Gungan offers a wink. "Come on, there's a pretty Twi'lek to impress. She's pretty cute."

Hin slid down the lid of the washer again, and that soft whirring began. Without even looking up, he slipped down the bar grabbing up a datapad, tapping it a couple of times. "What can I get pour vous, mademoiselle?"

On the door tonight was a slightly less massive droid than usual, bipedal, cylinder-headed and dingy in the way only something that is made with a shiny finish, thoroughly scuffed, given a coat of matte paint to cover up the scuffing, and then thoroughly scuffed again, could be. He was in a close contest with Clementine for dimmest glowbulb, but GX-22 fulfilled the minimum possible requirements for a bouncer at the Codpiece: he could take a drunk in a fight, he did what the boss told him to, and he didn't set to kill by default. As a bonus, he worked for charge and maintenance and didn't have to worry about anyone grabbing his blasters away from him, as they were built into his wrists.



A pair of bangs at the heavy hull-scrounge door and "Duo" moved to look at the small, fuzzy holoprojection that mounted at head height-- a cheap but higher-tech version of the traditional speakeasy hatch. Some beeping and booping later and he swung the door open, letting Clementine hunch his bulk through and into the Codpiece. He'd stepped out to make sure one of their regulars, Small Sogar, had gotten home safely to sleep off his poor spice-and-beverage mixing decisions. Because Small Sogar was a Dowutin, Clementine had been really the only choice.

The door closed, Clementine and Duo continued to converse in binary for a minute -- talking shop, maybe -- while engaging in what looked sort of like some kind of slowed-down martial arts routine involving Duo's whole upper body and both Clementine's cargo loaders and his smaller grasping manipulators. Some sort of droid secret handshake, maybe.

Since it seemed that the ladies were talking and he had been correct in assuming he had escaped notice, he turned to the bartender and placed his order. "I'll have a rush and rum please."

The droids catch his eye and he smiles to himself. He wonders to himself, with how droids have meaningful conversation among themselves like that, why anyone in the galaxy would resort to horrible things like memory wipes and restraining bolts. There are too many cruel people out there.

Cefey Raneth wrote:The reply coming from something that sounded like Core-accent was both interesting... and a little concerning.

"Humm... there is some things that don't change on many worlds - the names, but not the meaning." Providence didn't seem to have much providence. "But, tu is correct. I'm a new arrival here."

"Hm, you're not wrong. There are some local permutations worth noticing, however." Yara rubs her temple for a moment, then smooths a loosening strand of wavy red hair back into place.

Kaneesa Gee wrote:"Oh, Gorram it, where are those louts that I pay to keep things goin'?" Kaneesa seems to appear from a corner the others don't see coming. "When we see new faces, we try to put our best appendage forward an whatnot."

"Ya'll been served? The main attraction will be on stage soon."

Yara lifts her glass to display its still-nearly-full state in answer to this question from the... barkeep? no, clearly at least manager. And in fact she now recalls there are no Wookiees associated with this place at all, and that the owner was possibly supposed to be from Naboo. She'd failed to assume that could mean a Gungan; Human chauvinism is a damned hard habit to kick completely.

"Main attraction?" She raises her eyebrows over the rim of her glass as she lifts it for a sip. She casts a polite if cool nod to the Twi'lek server, though he clearly seems to be waiting on someone else at the moment.

It wasn't the first twi'lek to see on the planet for her, but it was the first one who seemed to be in a subservient role, and if twi'leks had body hair Fey was fairly certain she'd feel the hair on her neck stand up. It took her a moment to formulate a reply that wasn't what she actually wanted to say.

"... Beer. The Admiral." Again referring to the brand that had the logo of a Mon Cal with admiral stripes. She didn't notice that she even lost most of her Rylothian accent in her reply. "... What's the main attraction?" A part of her stomach twisted a little at the question that surfaced.

"The main attraction." Kaneesa points to a stage, where a few people seem to be setting up instruments. "The band. They call themselves Thievery Corporation...maybe a bit too on the nose." Kaneesa taps the tip of his snout. "We try to keep a lot of music coming through in here. It keeps bringing in new blood, such as yourself. I figured that is why you were here, no?" It might be tricky to tell if there is a ghost of a smile along the Gungan's elongated face. "They call their sound "Acid Jizz""

But as he talks, something seems to prick at the back of Kaneesa's neck. There's a feeling he has, one that he has only felt around one other person. It seemed to be coming from the Twi'lek, and this bore a bit more study. Kaneesa claps a hand on Nin's shoulder and gives him a nudge, offering a whisper. "She's cute. Do you want me to wingman for you?"

After getting his drink, Farkas moves to the two droids and gives them a nod of greeting. "Cybot Galactica CLL-M2. Good sturdy unit. Reliable. Must be a boon to the owner of this place to have you in his employ," Farkas says with a friendly smirk. "I'm Farkas Lowca, but Farkas is fine. You have a preferred name? And binary is fine for me as well, I've been a droid technician for many years."

Duo, previously pulled from his sworn duty only by a programmed superior interacting with him, seemed to self-consciously start when the human stepped nearby. Giving a preprogrammed standard response a little too quiet and full of static to be heard as he turned back to his post by the door ("patron" "excuse" "bartender" "enjoy"), he left Clementine alone with the balding human.

Clementine turned his whole body in order to get a good look at him, causing his necklace of artistically mutilated restraining bolts to rattle and clank, quieter than the background noise for all but Farkas. His response time was slow, as usual, which the technically inclined might have attributed to market-default processing speeds. In truth, Clementine was rarely approached directly in conversation by patrons, and even if he was Farkas was taking some time to fit into Clementine's taxonomy of organics. Clearly not lower Providencetownie. Didn't give off a vibe like cop. Sometimes uptowners came to slum, but usually, Kaneesa pegged them for special treatment on entry. And most of those people didn't speak binary. Most of everyone didn't speak binary.

At last, he let out a series of beeps, boops, sounds that were a little on the deep end to be described as chirps before switching in to his slow, loud basic -- [I am CLL-M29, designated] -- "Clementine." To a practiced ear, his binary speech was low-pitched but perfectly regular, if a little less verbally dextrous than the chattier sorts of astromech. He stops there, either deciding it's Farkas' turn to speak, or just taking a long time to think of a follow-up.

Kaneesa Gee wrote:"The main attraction." Kaneesa points to a stage, where a few people seem to be setting up instruments. "The band. They call themselves Thievery Corporation...maybe a bit too on the nose." Kaneesa taps the tip of his snout. "We try to keep a lot of music coming through in here. It keeps bringing in new blood, such as yourself. I figured that is why you were here, no?" It might be tricky to tell if there is a ghost of a smile along the Gungan's elongated face. "They call their sound "Acid Jizz""

But as he talks, something seems to prick at the back of Kaneesa's neck. There's a feeling he has, one that he has only felt around one other person. It seemed to be coming from the Twi'lek, and this bore a bit more study. Kaneesa claps a hand on Nin's shoulder and gives him a nudge, offering a whisper. "She's cute. Do you want me to wingman for you?"

Hin allowed himself a quick glance at the fellow twi'lek, then down at his data pad. Walking to the tap, he set the pad down and went about getting her drink. When the boss approached he didn't look, just shook his head in silence at the question. It was a soft, shake, though, one that seemed conveyed a sense of appreciation for the concern but no real interest.

Picking up the drink and the pad, Hin glided back to the azure woman. "Your drink, mademoiselle. That will be 3 credits*."

His tone was cool, but not cold, a kind of reply he might give any random patron in the bar.

*I honestly have no idea how much an amenity like this should cost. So whatever that number is.

Kaneesa Gee wrote:"The main attraction." Kaneesa points to a stage, where a few people seem to be setting up instruments. "The band. They call themselves Thievery Corporation...maybe a bit too on the nose." Kaneesa taps the tip of his snout. "We try to keep a lot of music coming through in here. It keeps bringing in new blood, such as yourself. I figured that is why you were here, no?" It might be tricky to tell if there is a ghost of a smile along the Gungan's elongated face. "They call their sound "Acid Jizz"

"Acid? Sounds a little uncomfortable." Either the red-haired woman is being deliberately arch... or she's just that square. "Actually, your establishment was simply the right place at the right time," she admits, with a bit of an ironic quirk to her lips at that right time which makes the subtext clear as day: I needed a drink. "But live music is a pleasant surprise."