Ask Eriadu Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Baymon Bluevynson

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Die Shize
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How lucky can one guy be? Not very, as far as Baymon Bluevynson was concerned, considering a missed kiss was the least of his problems. He had been struggling for some time now trying to rebuild his assets, bouncing his interests from planet to moon, between this star and that sun, shaking hands with Twi’leks and Chiss, gangsters and politicians, yet with each step forward he was met with one step backward.

Zen… The name lingered on his tongue as cigar smoke drifted from it, curling toward the ceiling with its indented squares like a chessboard waiting for pieces to fill it. Zentripoli, O how he was missed. The little Columi ringleader had been more than a mere acquaintance to Blue, more so when it came to the Crymorah Families, but he was as absent now as Baymon had been over the years. So it was all he could do to aim toward new avenues, push for new pursuits, and that took him to the Masa Vay, an elegant if expensive restaurant that towered atop the city of Sith-controlled Eriadu.

Baymon sat a corner table gazing out the window at the night life of skyscrapers and their flurry of vehicles. He was alone apart from his confidant, Zenke, sitting beside him, though the two could not have been presented more differently. Zenke donned a black jacket made for travel and sat gazing out at nothing with a glass of untouched fruit juice before him on cream white tablecloth. Baymon sported a grey dress suit, sitting with legs crossed as he leaned back with a glass of cognac on the table waiting for another sip.

Glancing at his wristwatch, his two newest associates ought to be showing up soon. There was the Rodian, one Preef Callo of the Zaa Fenn Crime Family, and a Trandoshan named Tresshk. The lot of them had a profitable business venture to discuss, Baymon having put his back foot forward and reached out to the Zaa Fenn of his own syndicate who could benefit from a man of his making, and he wagered that any muscle either of them brought along would only be strengthened by a Trandoshan.

“Any moment now, my friend,” Blue assured Zenke. Adjusting a cream fedora banded in brown, he took a leisurely sip of his drink and puffed out another cloud, sitting in solace. Even if his associates did not show, well, he felt rather content just sitting in and watching the night pass by.


@Eccles @Rorren
 
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Preef Callo

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The Masa Vay wasn't really a place Preef would willingly visit. A restaurant like that was for the corporate elites or the government officials being bankrolled by the former. Nowadays it included humans wearing uniforms that seemed eerily similar to that of the old Empire. The Zaa Fenn Crime Family hadn't formalized a deal with the Sith Order yet, but Preef didn't doubt that 'keeping the rubble out of establishments like the Masa Vay' would be high up the New Empire's list. In the rodian's opinion it was no place for a scoundrel anyway.

One of the Zaa Fenn's newest assets, the Trandoshan Tresshk, stood in the elevator with the rodian as the latter toyed with his blaster. "This guy worked with an old associate of mine," Preef said without explaining the details of the work he did with Zentripoli on Coruscant and reminiscing about times when the organizing part of organized crime wasn't done in overly public places filled with government officials. "We're hearing him out, but if I don't like it-" he smiled at the Trandoshan just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal the high-class restaurant, "-make sure you have your dinner outside the restaurant." Preef didn't want to deal with Marissa cussing him out because he let a Trandoshan eat a living person in the Masa Vay of all places.

The rodian was clearly underdressed for the restaurant, wearing his usual-styled outfit more suited for the frontier worlds and as always his hip-holster with his trusty blaster pistol hung for everyone to see. He was Preef Callo, former Enforcer for the Crimson Dawn, Fastest Quick-draw in the Outer Rim and current Enforcer of the Zaa Fenn Crime Family here on Eriadu. Needless to say that despite the fact the Rodian would never dine in the Masa Vay or indeed socialize with any of its clients, they all knew him and what he was capable of.

Reaching Baymon and his bodyguard, Preef claimed a chair and sat down. "Long time since I've heard from the Mothraki's." He hoped he pronounced the family's name correctly. He knew Zentripoli had been inducted into the Mothraki Crime Family before or after their work on Coruscant, but the little alien never did reach out afterwards. Maybe now that Preef was part of the Crymorah Syndicate the droid-aficionado desired to rekindle their friendship and that's why he send one of his men. Or maybe, Preef looked at the fancy-dressed scoundrel sitting in a five-figure meal restaurant as if he owned the place, Baymon came here simply to earn the credits to afford his next dinner.



@Die Shize @Rorren
 
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Tresshk

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Tresshk had his long arms crossed as his eyes stared up to the top of the elevator, a surprisingly eager smile on his face. The trandoshan was nearly always grinning, but it was more a more devious sneer than the one he had now...one could even mistake it for excitement. Preef may not have made any adaptions to the scenario that they found themselves in, going to some high end diner, but Tresshk had a new shine to his scales. And on top of that, as one hand lifted to pick a claw at his teeth, those razor-sharp chompers had a early white sheen to them. He may not have dressed any differently, but as much as a trandoshan could, he got done up for the situation. Tresshk even had a better aroma about him than the typical butcher shop smell he had about him.

“Funny how you’re alwayss thinking about killing your old colleaguesss...hehsk, maybe that’s why we pair up sso well? I’m still surprised the Bosss wants us to work this out, I never took you for the sssilver-tongue, and I my mouth never does anything sssubtle-like.” Tresshk spoke, before Preef made clear where things would end up if they went south.

“Cassse and point.” He chuckled then as they came to a stop on a level certainly higher than Tresshk had ever been to at any urban center. Like Preef, he was one to be down and dirty in the lower levels, perhaps even more so. He didn’t do bank robberies or sabotage, he did hits. It was why Preef was here to do that talking, and he was the muscle. At least, that was the intention.

As the two walked out, Tresshk’s curiosity had him wanting to look around the place and soak in what a higher end establishment was like. His hunter’s instincts however had his eyes locking to the two in the corner, summing them up, especially the large human male. That would be his match, he suspected, if it came to it. He then leaned lightly over to Preef, speaking lowly.

“We’re good, I could take him.” Tresshk gave his quick analysis, then allowing himself to glance around the well-lit, white-tiled counter. No dirty smells or smudges, no half-dead patrons, not even the smell of cigarra smoke. It was very different to his typical eating establishment.

When Preef took his seat, the trandoshan opted to stand, holding back his normally grinning expression to a more muted one while he stared down the contact’s bodyguard. He was playing the role of imposing alien who hits things if negotiations went wrong, and he played that role well.

@Preef Callo @Baymon Bluevynson @Die Shize @Eccles
 
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