Music OOC
The Iron Gunman
The Ranger turned from the view of a naked Coruscant and stepped back into the spaceport’s main hold. Sunlight created a canopy across the blue sky that hid the void waiting beyond, stealing his attention above a freighter setting down that looked as yellow as the color yellow. Not a bad haul. He nodded to himself as the lithe Zeltron pilot exited, her pink fingers running through a head of long green hair. But not my business. Zad looked away for what was, spotting an Ithorian shake hands with a Zabrak, a pair of Humans sort through luggage and a Bothan waving his way.
The Ranger straightened his black leather coat and approached his greeter with a grin. “About time you showed up. Your employer must like making his guests wait.”
“Huh?” The Bothan blinked. “No, you idiot, I was waving over my wife and daughter.”
Zad glanced behind himself to find two female Bothans skipping his way. “Oh…” He scratched his head. “My mistake.” Druk.
With that, he excused himself and gave the port another scan. Three Trandoshans giggling over their latest skinning, the fattest Rodian I’ve ever seen, a Twi’lek pop band boarding their barge… He sighed. It would have been easier if he had been as privy to the contact’s face as they were of his own. Relenting, Zad decided that the best way to wait for someone was to be waited on, so he waltzed toward the spaceport bar and sat at the counter guzzling ale.
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