Ask Scoundrel and a Champion

[Roman Antilles]

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MOS EISLEY, TATOOINE, LOCAL TIME: 2234

Tatooine belonged to neither the Sith Empire nor the Five Syndicates, which made this endeavor of theirs even more bold. Finding a spot to discuss business was a hard bargain in most cantinas, for the presence of unsavory scum who would be listening to every little word you said. And as an Imperial operative, Roman needed to ensure that this was strictly for personal gain and could not afford to have the Empire's reputation tarnished in any manner. To ensure as such, he had gone through several precautions including having only select intelligence officers set up this meeting for him.

And so, as nightfall surrounded them; Roman's armored form stood on the rooftop of a cantina, arms folded across his chest as eyes peered from behind the depths of his durasteel helmet. Scanning the city scape around him, he thought for a few seconds in silence until the Scoundrel he had arranged this meeting finally arrived. Turning slowly to face Hoss, Roman nodded briefly as his voice came out mechanized from under his scrambler.

"Thank you for taking this meeting. I was not fully sure whether an operative from the Five Syndicates would agree to meet a Sith, in New Republic Space..." He smirked, before continuing. "But here you are..."

@Scoobert

 

[Hoss Midnight]

When Hoss heard about the meeting with a Sith over opening a spice route on a planet, he couldn't help but think of the money he could off of this. Besides keeping it underground for himself could give him power early on with the syndicates. So getting prepared, he would place his blasters in his holsters then place his SA-35 on his back strapped around his chest, and preparing his attire for the day on Tatooine. Sending his message he would accept the meeting and see how he could turn this into a big win for the Syndicates but mostly just himself.

Arriving on his ship he would make his way to the cantina and meet on the roof. Weird place but not many other people will be there so who cares, this was about money.

"Yeah.. well, let's just get to business shall we?"

Hoss's voice came off rough and rustic. His left hand waving forward to insinuate the conversation should continue, his right on his belt close to the blaster on the front open for the Sith to see. Casually he would pull out a cigar and look at the armored Sith,

"You got a light? I only do business when I can smoke one."

Hoss held his cigar out hoping the Sith had a lightsaber they like to carry so much to light it so he can enjoy a smoke and business.

@Faded

 

[Roman Antilles]

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Roman nodded and leaned over the edge of the rooftop, placing a single hip on the barrier to seat himself as they conversed. Arms folded across his chest as his attention remained on the individuals scurrying around beneath them on the streets. With the request of a light however, the Sith turned towards the Scoundrel, right hand extending outwards as if he were making a gesture with his fingertips.

Air swiveled and condensed, a small gust of breeze before it stagnant and burst with a rapid onset of humidity. Middle finger and thumb snapped of his right hand as he utilized the Force to recall a small flame that ignited on the tip of the man's cigar.

"I've had my eyes on the spice runs that carry goods from the spaceport into the deserts of Tatooine. Usually those that utilize the large smuggler train convoys. Pyke Syndicate I believe?" Mechanized voice spoke from depths of the helmet, asking Hoss whether he knew if it was Pyke or another affiliate who owned them.

"I say we make them ours...hazard pay to be made..." He said.

@Scoobert