Duran wasn't overly fond of the desert. But then, who really was beyond the natives? Not many actually wanted to live on Tatooine, they just did. No one but the Hutts, various gangs, and water mongers had anything resembling wealth in this sorta place. But that didn't mean there wasn't cred to be made even way out in the middle of nowhere.
He tipped his hat at the weathered pair of moisture farmers whose land he'd wandered onto to ask a few cred-greased questions. "Appreciate the help. Sir, ma'am." Duran turned and strode back toward the speeders where his partner for this job was waiting on him and leaned against his own vehicle. "Not too much to go on. Been a long time since the old Empire hunted Jedi out here." Adjusting his collar to let the dry air wick sweat away from his skin, he hopped back on his bike and swapped his hat for a helmet.
"Stories tell of a hermit out in the sea. No idea if it's recent or not, just passed about. Worth a shot."
@Zay