Happy endings are stories that haven't ended yet

[Dominus Maximus]

Nar Shadaa, 21:42 local time

“No, I’m still not interested.” Said the Rodian mercenary in his odd language.

“This one believes the pay will be good.” Answered Dargus. He knew, however, that it was already in vain. The bounty hunter has made his decision.

“I do not doubt that.” The Rodian said. “There are things in this galaxy far more important than credits though. Excuse me; my crew is waiting for me.”

And with that, the Rodian moved on, leaving Dargus sitting alone at the bar. As the lazy jazz music played by the Bith band permeated the air around the cantina, Dargus couldn’t help but contemplate upon his current predicament over some cheap Nar Shadaa booze.

Dargus Wytho normally was not the type to hunt down and recover escaped slaves or their lovers. He was a procurer, a person who would find the rarest of items and sell them to the richest of clients; much like how bounty hunters worked, but with artifacts. Business has been slow, however, and Dargus knew that he needed new contacts. What better place to start than the Cartel?

Unfortunately, however, in order to gain access to the good clients, Dargus needed to prove himself trustworthy to the Cartel bosses. To do that, he needed to show how reliable he is, so he took a job. Of course, he had little to no experience with hunting down fugitives. He’s an excellent tracker and hunter, to be sure; he had to be, in order to survive the harsh conditions on Barab I, his home planet. Regrettably, he was currently hunting sentients, not some simple-minded animals.

Dargus needed someone more experienced with bounty hunting, or at least someone who could watch his back on this mission. For some reason, however, the job seemed untouchable. Nobody was willing to work with him. Whether it was due to his intimidating stature or something more sinister, he could not tell.

Dargus threw his head back and drained his glass. He then motioned the bartender to refill it. As the bartender did so, Dargus began contemplating on going to Cloud City alone. What could go wrong?

 

[Butler]

"Well then why don't we run off together then..?"

He slurred soft nothings of redundancies to the side of the girl's black silky hair, whisking from his close breath into her ear. Her fingers fed into those strands and tucked them behind her ear, gently scratching her neck.

"Imagine. White sands between your toes. Oil dripping down your nape. My hands kneading your muscles into submission. Heehee."

He giggled with a rasp in his throat, lips glistening from pre drool, as her head bobbed coyly. Leaning back nearly out of his chair, which was by no means meant to be connected to the woman's table-booth as it was now, and into her subconscious - he felt her steamed strands stick to the stubble on his cheeks. Yet with one hand back, he couldn't let loose his grip on the mug of ale that sat upon his own table; nearly lifting the sloshing liquid for a failed thought at a taste between every pause. And his dangling foot, childishly kicking the air underneath the table, wavered in drunken balance of the tipped chair.

"What's that? -You'd ask in your little yellow bikini. Oh, that's just my pistol. -I'd answer. Well, the smaller one at least. Hehe."

The woman's head whipped around, whipping her hair into his face, showing every ounce of disgust in her surprise.

"Were you talking to ME this whole time?!?" she burst out with disdain in the quiver of her lip, shooting up to a stand that knocked her wobbling table.

"Whoa!"

Lev's own chair was pushed away with the woman's abrupt realization. He kicked his table over and fell back onto the floor ungracefully with a clamoring thud. And though his drink did spill over his shoulder, the glass never touched the floor; mug handle still secured safely around his palm. And he noticed, at first satisfied with a grin that he'd saved a few drops but then upset that he'd tossed over half the rest onto some guy's boots.

"Jeez lady! It's called grace. Ya might want to work on that if you want to get some attent-"

She tossed the nearest random patron's drink down onto his face with a timely interruption.

"You disgusting pig! I don't want your attention," she fired back.

"Could'a fooled me," he slyly grinned back from the floor, tipping a finger-point to her short skirt that he could nearly see under; and then gave the 'okay' sign with an unseen wink from under his insignificant eye-patch.

"Ugh!" she kicked his side and then stormed off.

"Oh-ho! Ruff! Ruff!" he playfully barked with his canines and a rolling laughter, trying to take another drink but choking from the incline on his back.

 

[Dominus Maximus]

Just as Dargus was about to drain his new glass, a woman’s infuriated shrieks of disgust forced him to turn his head. Just as he did, that same woman, who wasn’t even that attractive to Dargus, stood up and knocked a table or two over with that one fluid motion. What caught his attention, however, was the man to whom the woman’s fury was directed.

He was a human; with one eye. He wasn’t very tall, but he seemed to project an aura that could make him seem like a giant amongst his kind. When the woman to whom he has directed his drunken lechery unto stood, she managed to start a chain reaction that tipped the one-eyed human’s table over. Astonishingly, however, he managed to keep hold of his mug.

Dargus turned around to finish his own drink. He wasn’t interested in such frivolity from a drunken man trying to get laid. He had problems of his own. But then, an idea suddenly flashed inside his scaly head. He didn’t like it, but he had no choice in the matter. He had to try.

With as much grace as one would expect from a barabel, Dargus stood up and faced the scene of the commotion once more; his six-foot-two muscled frame dwarfing most of the cantina’s patrons. Once the woman has left in a flurry of angry steps, Dargus approached the one-eyed human.

“You there.” He said in a clear voice, attempting to catch the man's attention, as he was currently copying some form of animal. “This one would speak to you.”

When Dargus was close enough, he could see the significant difference in their heights. To him, however, it felt like he was talking to someone of the same height as he was.

“This one has a job.” Dargus began. “…and this one requires aid. Would you be interested? The credits will be good.”

And there it was. He said it. Hopefully, it wasn’t something he would regret one day. Or at the very least, he’d still be alive to have the opportunity to regret it.

 

[Butler]

"But I don't wanna 'speak to this one' I wanna speak to that one," Lev fluently gargled without pause or attention, rolling his mug back to the woman he'd just pissed off.

Wit shot out of every orifice when it came to Lev, rain or shine; or morphine number nine. Regardless of the substance, his hands twitched with precision and his lips fluttered like butterflies. It was a gift that kept on giving, and giving till it hurt.

But then he wondered who's words he'd just echoed when he heard something about a job and aid. He started listening.

"Credits?!? I got plenty of credits. I got ...credits..."

He contemplated the perspiration within the mug, the back wash even, debating whether or not it was worth the attempt. He tried regardless. There were no fruits for his laboring spirit and drunkard's conviction.

"How much are we talkin?"

Lev looked up, pitifully blinking out whatever alcohol that now stung in his eye. His neck strained unflatteringly as it pulled his mouth agape to lift up and see, wrinkling chins and ejecting tongue like an infant drowning in its birth fluid.

"What the-" he realized how tall and how scaly the reptile was that now talked to him. "Are you a- a Barral? A Barellel?" He couldn't quite nail down the word.

 

[Dominus Maximus]

“Barabel, yes.” Dargus said, calmly finishing the human’s drunken slur of a sentence.

He let out a sigh under his breath. It would seem that the one-eyed human was far more intoxicated than he first realized. That or he was a really good actor. Dargus would likely bet on the former. It felt to him as though his idea of hiring the human for his aid was a very bad one.

The day has already grown long, however, and Dargus has grown weary of talking to others only to have them decline his pleas. He has already moved on with his plan. He will attempt to hire this human’s help, or he will go to Bespin alone. If Dargus would be declined by a drunk, chances are, he will be declined by anyone. If the one-eyed human does manage to accept, despite his apparent inability to talk straight, Dargus would hope that he would prove himself useful in a fight. If nothing else, the human may prove to be a decent distraction.

“We will earn a decent amount of credits.” Said Dargus, answering the human’s original query. “Enough to drink and whore yourself into an early grave for a week.” Dargus paused for a moment to consider the human’s appetite for alcoholic beverages and women before adding, “…or less.”

“This one has been tasked to return two slaves to their owner.” Dargus said, as slowly as he can, making sure that the human would catch everything that he is saying. “They hide at Bespin; in Cloud City. This one has a ship, but this one requires support. You will receive half of this one’s pay. What say you?”

 

[Butler]

"That sounds perdy good," he mused, bubbly, with a groggy roll, reaching onto another table for rising support.

Lev achingly bent up into the booth next to a big neutral man, chuckling at Lev's expense.

"You're fools, the both of you. That gladiator's untouchable," the large man said before a final gulp of his drink and a shove of Lev to get out of the booth.

"No but this one has a ship," Lev wined optimistically, alternatively echoing the lizard's verbiage, as he was gently moved out of the way and onto his own two feet.

"I like this guy," Lev squeaked as he lifted an arm to plant onto Dargus' shoulder, "He's got a plan. And pay. You've gotcherself a partner, partner."

Regardless of prodding, the large man made sure to exit without getting drawn into further debate; clearly washing his hands of the mission just as those before him.

Lev yawned.

"Hey Barbillel," he wheezed dozily, "You a ladies man, Barbi?"

Plop!

Lev fell onto the floor, knocked out for one last little routine recharge before the trip. Nothing unusual...

 

[Dominus Maximus]

Dargus regarded the man who made a comment about one of the escaped slaves. The slave was a gladiator; a prized fighter from one of Borgeye the Hutt’s fighting pits, bred to fight with ferocity and had the experience to do it. Even so, however, Dargus wasn’t going to back down on this job. He had already accepted it.

Dargus was suddenly snapped out of his brooding state by a casual slap on his broad shoulders. The one-eyed human has accepted his proposal, albeit in a barely-standing state. Regretful as he may have been that only a drunken man could accept his proposal, Dargus felt relieved that he had back-up on this mission. It didn’t take long, however, for the regret to sink in deeper when the human suddenly fell on the floor unconscious. With a sigh, Dargus bent a knee next to the human’s lethargic body.

“Not as much as you.” Dargus said sarcastically, as answer to the human’s last question. Dargus thought about prodding the human to wakefulness, but he preferred not to get the smell of alcohol on him, which was quite significant on the man. Instead, Dargus reached into his utility belt and procured a transmitter, to which he spoke into.

“Arnine, prep the ship. This one will be there shortly.” Dargus said. The R-9 astromech droid beeped and whistled in reply. He then regarded the human laying on the floor and added, “Also, send the repulsorlift table from the medbay over to my location. We have a guest.”

Dargus then gingerly reached out to grab the human’s collar, in an attempt to drag him to the cantina’s entrance. Dargus is strong enough to carry the man over his shoulder, but he didn’t want to reek of alcohol as bad as the human did. Humans also had this nasty habit of regurgitating when they are too intoxicated, something he didn’t want to risk happening whilst he was carrying the human. In any case, the one-eyed man seemed dead-drunk asleep. Most likely, he wouldn’t care, or wouldn’t remember much to care, anyway.

 

[Butler]

Lev choked on his hiccuping snores as he was blissfully dragged out of the establishment, knee bumping bruises and all. The mug caught on the gaskets of the sliding doors and his prized possession was lost within its haven, the holy grail never to be taken beyond this point. He seemed to wake several times, though he was deep in a drooling trance. He moaned as he was rolled onto the hovering gurney. He burped a bubbling bile within his mushing cheeks as his stomach turned with his laying curls upon the gliding bed. He cried softly as a babe breathing heavily in absence of his mother. And he lonesomely reached out with a grabby hand at Dargus as he walked close to the repulsorlift table. But he didn't wake - not until he found himself inside a ship, waking to a throbbing headache and without his things.

"Ow-wa!" he punctuated for added punch against the pain.

Immediately he pressed fingers to temples, hoping to squeeze the pressure into submission. Everything started coming back, slowly. And he tasted something awful...