Cantina - (Open to all)

[Sandarie]

On a space station out in the far reaches of deep space a petite blue Twi’lek uses a bar mop to clean up. The mess on the counter was created by the boisterous trio of patrons who had just vacated the cantina. Sandarie smiled to herself, thinking out loud, “Could be worse, they could have blown the place up.”

Looking around the Mistell with pride, her lekku twitching, as she polished the last of the counter. A little serving droid twittering happily while it retrieved a tray full of dishes and utensils to be cleaned.

An insistent chirping came from the datapad, sitting on the counter behind her. Picking it up she frowned at the message displayed. Sighing heavily, the Twi’lek tapped out a terse reply, “Chang, you get my ale and brandy out here before you feel the wrath of the Twi’ Army. Don’t think there isn’t one, cause there so totally is!” Her index finger stabbing at the send button, before tucking the datapad beneath the counter.

[Kelta]

A shuttle arrives at the space station. Numerous travelers get off to stretch their legs or find flights to their next destination. As the crowd disperses, a lack of motion draws the eye to the very edge of the crowd. A feminine figure, clad in animal skins and furs, stands frozen. Her eyes dart around while the rest of her body remains eerily still. A small sigh undulates her shoulders, the moment of indecision passes, and she strides forward following the majority the passengers.

When she arrives at the cantina, she observes the area for a few minutes. Her body blocks the doorway. She is jostled against the doorframe by an impatient man. The man pauses, yells a curse in Huttese at her, and moves to the bar. The woman's eyes track his path. Anger flares her nostrils slightly and she moves, circling around so that she is on the opposite side of the cantina from the man who shoved her. She sits at the bar. When the man lifts his drink to his mouth, the woman grumbles under her breath. A brilliant smile graces her features for an instant as the man fumbles his drink and it spills down the front of his shirt.

[Sandarie]

Meg leans against the back of the bar, surveying the clientele. Her eyes track the woman in animal skins and furs. The petite woman, grinned slightly as her own eyes swept to the cursing male whose drink suddenly seems to be fumbled and spilled down the front of his shirt.

The bartender saunters over with a bright smile, to stand opposite the woman in furs. "What can I get cha?" she inquires, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

[clingingmars]

A fairly nondescript looking human in a brown jacket walks into the cantina, quietly surveying the clientele before walking up to the bar. He patiently waits for the woman behind the counter, taking the moment to relax and look around.

[Hamilcaer]

Hamilcaer saunters in through the doorway, fidgeting with his datapad. There is a distant smile on his face, as if he is amused by something he just read or heard. His eyes dart back and forth around the room quickly as he surveys the layout of the establishment and makes a quick assessment of the other patrons, looking for threats. The woman in furs looks a bit out of place and odd, but she seems to be minding her own business. The same goes for the man in the brown jacket. A split second later he spots a table in the corner that is slightly away from the bar and more or less secluded. He casually walks over and sits down...with his back to the wall. He adjusts the placement of the silverware on his place setting to make it 'just perfect'. He pulls up the menu on his datapad, but he isn't really reading it.

"I'm famished," he says to himself. "I do hope they have shellfish."

[Sandarie]

The petite bartender, with the wildly bright blue hair nudges the droid next to her, "Sipper, go see if the new customer wants a drink. Be nice this time. We can't afford to make any of the patrons unhappy." Megan finishes sending the droid off to where Hamilcaer has seated himself. She absentmindedly wipes down a portion of the bar, which is clearly clean to any around to observe. She watches the droid roll up and wait patiently next to the man while he decides what he'd like to drink.

Behind her a datapad starts to chirp insistently. Glancing at it quickly, the pale pink female pokes the audio on, "Stacee, talk to me. Tell me the supplies I ordered from Taanab have arrived..."

[dalolorn]

A gold-trimmed R2 unit wanders in, spinning its dome around to look at people before heading over to the bar. It beeps a friendly greeting at the bartender:

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doip-biddle
(Hello.)

Literal TranslationShow

friend-speak

[Sandarie]

Turning to the sound of a droid's greeting, Megan smiles her own greeting. "Hey there. What can I do for you?"

The ever present bar mop wipes at the counter recently vacated of glasses and a few dishes. The little Zeltron's eyes sweep the Mistell's area briefly before returning to rest expectantly upon the R2 unit.

[dalolorn]

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doop ziting bip ding-whiree-doip bang bleep-buzz kaspip doop whirr zip-ting
(Oh, I'm just waiting while my owner's ship is being refueled and I wanted to pass the time.)

The droid pauses for a moment before deciding to introduce itself:

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doop po-fipgi-bedoop
(I'm Goldie.)

Literal TranslationShow

me zero-move now meatbag-catch-friend ship make-own liquid-power me want time-move

*pause*

me yellow-droid

[Sandarie]

Tilting her head to the side to consider the little R2 unit, which in reality wasn't much shorter than she was herself, she gives a little nod. "I'm Meg. Welcome to the Mistell. It's nothing too special, but I run it."