Two smugglers walk into a bar ...

[twelve_not_fourteen]

A serving droid clinks two drinks on a (mostly) clean table.  One is a clear glass, in a standard size, full of a predictably amber colored liquid.  A whiff of it would tell someone familiar with the common spirits of the galaxy that it was Corellian brandy - that spicy, ever so slightly sweet smell was distinctive, yet common.  The other vessel placed upon the table was not glass and was far larger than one containing the brandy.  The alcohol in it was strong enough to make most humanoids light headed from the vapor.

Han doesn't say anything as the repurposed astromech unit twitters to them in binary.  If it was looking for appreciation or even acknowledgement of it's presence, it's doesn't seem like it's going to get it from this human.  It beeps louder, above the racket in the bar, with a decidedly indignant tone and then it rolls away from the table.  Moody, hazel eyes flick up at the back of the droid and a scowl spreads across the man's lips.

"Remember when you could go into a bar and there'd be people around to serve you?"

It's the same complaint every time they end up in a dive where there was a machine either taking his order or bringing his drink, so Chewbacca didn't even need to listen all that closely.  The only thing that changed was the tone.  It was smarmy and sarcastic when their pockets were lined with the credits of a job well done and embittered when they were broke.  This was an example of the latter.

Comments

[fuzzball]

It's a good thing the droid chooses to go when it does, as Chewie'd already started drawing in a slightly snuffling breath through his nose in preparation of telling the droid in no uncertain (and in no quiet) terms to leave them the kriff alone. Neither the wookiee nor Han were in the best of spirits after yet another dead end in their ongoing quest to change their fortunes and line their pockets. Always that. As it is, Chewie still honks an annoyed sound after the retreating droid before hauling his drink closer to him on the grimy table. That would work to soothe him at least a little bit.

It is the same complaint Han always uses, but that doesn't mean Chewbacca isn't sympathetic. Usually, anyway. Droids had their uses, just not in bars; on that they could heartily agree. Grunting an acknowledgement to Han, Chewie grabs his mug and throws back his head as he takes a hearty swig of the alcohol inside. Once over half of it is gone, he slams the mug back on the table and turns his head to survey the assorted crowd gathered in this particular establishment underneath shaggy brows. Keen blue eyes take in every group huddled over their tables, every heated exchange, every lone figure languishing about the dark corners-- warily, assessing. It's never a bad idea to keep a close eye out in places such as these. If anyone was entertaining thoughts on trying to catch them off guard, Chewie wouldn't make it easy on them.

Catching nothing immediately awry with their surroundings, Chewbacca finally glances back to Han, giving a throaty little howl in question. The gist is clear. Now what?

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Chewbacca has a lot of talents. One of the ones Han has leaned on hardest over the years was the Wookiee's ability to keep them safe even in places full of people who wanted to harm them. He was good at that. There were times, even, that he felt like nothing was going to harm him because of his best friend.

He, meanwhile, was the one that came up with the plans. So for as lost as he feels right now, it doesn't surprise him that his partner is asking him what the next move is. Han just wished he had a good answer for that question.

"I don't know yet, pal."

He's been looking into the glass of brandy for the last couple of moments. Stopping on Kolatill seemed like a good idea at the time, but the Blue Mynock Lounge was not as crowded as he'd have liked to see. That didn't mean that they wouldn't pick up something here if they waited long enough, but he didn't like the thought of staying in one place for too long either.

"You still got that datapad in your bag?"

[fuzzball]

Han's response isn't entirely unexpected and doesn't faze Chewbacca overly. Sometimes it took a while for them to stumble across a new job or even a clue about one, but it would turn up sooner or later -- though hopefully sooner, in this case. Chewie had all the faith in Han's ability to come up with something. It could be something reckless and/or dangerous, more often than not, but that didn't matter to the Wookiee. It was the nature of their chosen field, for one. As much as Chewbacca might at times question some of the schemes Han cooked up or voice a protest occasionally, he never once budged from Han's side despite them. And not just because he was bound by the life debt to protect the man in return, but because duty had long since turned into friendship.

At the query, Chewie barks an affirmative and, with surprisingly deft fingers for such a big creature, fishes the datapad in question out of the bag hanging on his bandolier. He slides the pad across the table in front of Han, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes as he leans back to regard the man, head tipped slightly to the side. He has enough patience not to prod Han about his thoughts just yet.

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Han takes an over-sized gulp from his brandy. Considering that they'd happened to have enough money for one drink a piece, he probably ought to be taking shallower sips. It's just that he's noted that he always seems to want to drink more when he can't afford it. He was also running into the depressing trend of barkeeps across the galaxy unwilling to open a tab for him.

"Checking for messages first."

Han doesn't even need to look up to see his partners ageless blue eyes to know that he's giving him the questioning look. He can just tell from the Wookiee's body language that he can only really see in the corner of his eye.

"After that, I dunno, maybe someone will have put something interesting in the listings."

so sorry for the delay!

[fuzzball]

Chewie gives a short, soft rumble of acknowledgement and agreement. It's a good idea; usually trawling through the listings caught them something. There were a lot of shady people around in need of capable hands who didn't ask too many questions. They might be able to come up with a job that wasn't too distasteful. Beggars couldn't exactly afford to be choosers, and they were rapidly approaching that very designation.

While Han checks the messages, the Wookiee casts another glance about the dingy bar, ever vigilant. Nobody seems to really pay them much attention, which is the way Chewbacca prefers it. He gives it a couple of more minutes before turning back to Han, woofing a question. Does anything look promising?

No worries!

[twelve_not_fourteen]

Reading through the holo-listings was, of course, an skill one had to hone and practice. It was a really convenient way to get the word out when you wanted to get a job done and a great way for scoundrels to pick up work, but you had to be sneaky about it - because literally anyone could stumble upon your ad. Including planetary law enforcement.

So Han needed to read through each help wanted message twice. They were all littered with euphemisms, for example, a smuggling gig tended to have the word privateering put into the message instead. You might hone in on the term selling spring if you were looking for a prostitute. Retirement was often the key word for a hit. And so on and so forth. It got to be like sorting out kryffing word puzzles after a while.

“I actually do see one that I like here.” Han says, as he runs his thumb over his jaw in thought. “It’s pretty vague, though. I mean vaguer than usual ...”