Nar Shaddaa, 13:00 local time
Tap, tap, tap. The distinct sound of aluminum being rapped against a concrete surface made faint echoes throughout the empty hallway as Inès absentmindedly continued the rhythm, too lost in thought to be fully aware of the noise.
Tap, tap, t- The noise came to an abrupt stop when the can was finally brought away from the ground and held in front of the indigo twi'lek's oddly colored eyes. She regarded the can with vague interest, half-heartedly scanning the blurb of aurebesh on the back that supposedly listed legal warnings and ingredients. She had been on her own for a year now — comparatively, at least — and the days had begun to blend together. It'd been a few weeks since her last job, which meant money was running thin again. Worst case scenario she could go back to the home and ask if she could come back. She was sure they'd say yes. After all, she was one of Father's children. And she went over for dinner sometimes anyway. And she-
"Gods, Inès, you gotta get your hands busy, girl." She interrupted her own spiraling thoughts, jumping up onto her feet as she grumbled at herself under her breath. The same hand that had been tapping the spray paint can began to shake it back and forth, bouncing around the glass marble inside and mixing up the paint. A familiar feeling began to rise up as heat in her chest, weighing her down and invigorating her at the same time. She needed to do something. She needed to do something crazy. Then she'd feel better, and then she'd go find work.
The tattooed twi'lek emerged on the busy Nar Shaddaa streets. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her paint-stained jacket, one gripping the red spray paint can and the other curled around her shitty brick of a phone. A pair of edgy black sunglasses were perched on her nose, shielding her bi-colored eyes from the moon's harsh sun. They rose up above the bodies around them, above the colorful fabrics shading market stalls, and above the rooves of the buildings to search for her target. "There it is."
Not too far off in the distance, there was a billboard towering above the tops of buildings. It ran pretty standard advertisements. 'Need droids? Look to Blackwell!' sat on the screen, then transitioned to 'Bonheur' in big, fancy black letters with the fashion empire's stoic white face right beside it. So many advertisements for huge corporations. Anywhere else, there'd probably be government propaganda there too, but this was Nar Shaddaa for the gods' sake. But, regardless, it was big, ugly, and boring, and Inès wanted to spice things up.
Weaving and bobbing through the crowd, Inès made a beeline for it, slipping through alleys and vaulting over gates and obstacles. But her attention was snatched away by the unmistakable sound of paint being forced out of a can.
Curious, Inès peeked around the corner. Her eyes settled on the back of some unknown figure and the tag that they were in the midst of throwing up onto a wall. Her eyes sparkled in recognition. She'd seen that tag around, a lot. Yet someone she'd never stumbled across its owner until now.
Content with not knowing who it was — she had her own mission anyways — Inès turned to leave. As she did, to her dismay, the spray paint can in her pocket slipped out and hit the concrete ground with a very loud clanging sound.
@Fine Dining Set