Nal Hutta, Hutt Space

The Glorious Jewel of Hutt Space... and notorious hive of scum and villiany

As with all journeys this side of Coruscant, Nineveh Eleodian didn't quite know what to expect as she entered the Excaar'Sol, nor was she certain as she scraped the scum off her boots at the door that entering was a good idea in general. The last load she's hauled back to Nar Shaadda wasn't due for another twelve hours, but the text message she'd received on her comm was something she couldn't ignore, though she shoud, especially if she was to make her quota by the end of the week.

Meet me at the spaceport cantina. Tell nobody.

Other's especially those living at the Minarsh flophouse back on the moon would have told her to steer clear, but nobody had her comm code, not on that frequency anyway, and the intrigue was just too much for her to let go of.

She scanned the room, her shoulders tightening as she stepped down to the bar floor. She shook her Lekku out, first tchun then tchin over rolling shoulders. It was a habit she'd picked up as a girl, and one that never shook... a type of confidence booster that had the added effect of turning not a few heads now and again, but that also made her extremely difficult to approach if one wasn't the brave type. She selected seat, ordered a drink, and sat back in the corner, alone, to wait for her mysterious contact.

After Samuel was certain that the Garmur was secure at the its designated landing pad, and that CHAMBER was set to guard mode. Archer chuckled, guard mode for CHAMBER was essentially kill anyone who even thinks of scratching the coating. He flexed his arms into his burnt-orange jacket, strapped his harness over his shoulder and to his beltside, locking his blaster to its holster as he stepped off the gangplank and onto Nal Hutta’s surface. Figuratively, since he was on a metal platform suspended over the surface, but his boots still began to accumulate scum and grim. Oh and the smell! If he hadn’t already been to Nal Hutta before and remembered the scent, well there would have been a repeat of his first visit to the Hutt homeworld. It wasn’t pretty.

He made his way across the spaceport, looking at the neon signs for the Excaar’Sol cantina. Thankfully there were translations to basic underneath, but they were not as advertised as their Huttese counterparts. After locating the cantina, which was literally located under a pile of what he hoped was mud, he entered and didn’t pay heed to the half-sleeping guard out front. He thought he’d be able to sneak in and steal a seat, but he was found out very quickly by the bartender who was shouting expletives at him to wipe his boots. He stopped and looked at the underside of his boot and cringed, he might have to burn these when he got back to the Garmur. He scraped off the scum, rather than wipe, and scanned the room.

Everyone had gone back to their drinks, conversations and other shady business; everyone aside from a Twi-lek who kept him in her sights subtly. That must be who comm’d me. Knowing to be expected, he simply walked up to the Twi-lek’s table and waved the bartender for a brandy. He wouldn’t actually be drinking it, though he would like to, he didn’t know if this was just an elaborate attempt to get Archer killed. So he’d rather not be impaired or poisoned.

Nonchalantly and rather arrogantly said, “Looking for me I presume?” He took a seat as his brandy arrived at the table. He picked it up in his non-blaster hand and brought it up to eye-level to use as a makeshift mirror. He couldn’t see much, but he could see glimpses and glints, like the glint of a blaster being aimed at him. Thankfully that wasn’t the case, but this way he could be somewhat aware of his surroundings and appear confident to his would-be contact.

Josef Mason was walking through the city streets, searching for this cantina he was told to find.

All this god-damn shit on the streets, I'll be cleaning my boots for hours after this just to get the stench off of 'em.

Keeping his eyes open behind his tinted glasses and his hand near hip, where his blaster was safely nestled, he made his way to the dilapidated neon sign displaying the name "Excaar'Sol Cantina", making a mental note of the locals loitering outside of the bar. Inside, Josef found much more activity, most of it almost certainly being of questionable intent.

Nonetheless, there in the corner sat a quiet Twi'lek and a not-so-quiet human, caught up in his own reflection on the glass in front of him.

I can tell that this is going to be so much fun, some xeno and a douchebag with a leather jacket. May as well get to business before somebody stabs me and takes my shit.

Josef, not one for subtlety, walks up to the table and sits down, his prominent scowl showing his disdain for meeting in such a dump of a place. He clears his throat. "So what is it that you guys want, that you had to call me for it?" The former Storm Commando grabs a bottle of whiskey off of a nearby tray, pours himself a shot and downs it in one fluid motion.