The Omega Station was an absolute shit-hole in the back-end of the Galaxy and, for those two reasons alone, Godric had a soft spot for it deep in his heart.
Generally speaking it was a terrible idea to have a soft spot for a place that was so full of the scum of the Galaxy that it made Mos Espa and Nar Shaddaa look like sensible places for holiday homes, but the disguised Jedi Shadow rather liked the element of danger. That and whenever he had need of something that would be hard to get ahold of for a Jedi, this place came through for him.
Now though?
Now he was shopping for something a little bit pricier than old Imperial surplus detonation charges or mines that, just so happened, to look exactly like the maintenance panels on the interdictor field generators on Sith warships. For this mission, Godric had decided that it would be better if he was not appearing before a meeting with a member of the Crimson Dawn as a Jedi, even a Jedi Shadow.
Criminals tended to either get less jumpy or even jumpier when they learned the person they were speaking to was a Shadow after all. They paid well but they also tended to like to stab criminals who crossed certain lines. Having undergone another painful surgery to reduce the mass of bone in his chin, to make it more angular, Godric had happily stepped foot into the Afterlife club on the station. His newly-made ash-grey hair, pale blue eyes and scarification tattoos meant he didn't look too out of place.
Dressing in a worn leather jacket, shirt and trouser combo finished off with a holstered Python blaster pistol and a pair of gloves. The gloves he absolutely hated as they came with "pinky fingers" which were linked to the next finger along so they moved in time with them.
One day he'd be allowed to cut his hands off and replace them with cybernetics but not today.
"I've got a meeting." he grunted to the bouncer, "Called ahead - name's Deacon."
Now to cool his heels with a drink with as little alcohol as possible.
@Phoenix