The greasy poll.

[Joseph Trazyn]

The Indigo Tower was one of the finest establishments in the Core, or more specifically - one of the finest establishments with low membership requirements, in the Core. As such, it was the ideal location for Joseph Trazyn to meet one of the galaxies supposedly ‘finest’ journalists. Pulling up in front of the club, in his Sorosuub Speeder, he quickly what little information he had on the man he was meeting.

He had managed to find out a bit about the mans company, however that was about it - the man did not appear to have much by way of large scoops to his name, and it was for that reason that he had extended to him an offer to come to the club. A man hungry for a scoop, would be more pliable perhaps?

Exiting his car, he passed the keys to a waiting droid and doffed his hat at the doorman ”Good evening Mr. Trazyn.”

”Isn’t it just?”

He swept into the club, handing his hat and coat to a waiting droid, who he promptly ignored, and walked into the main lounge, unbuttoning the top fasten on his three piece, and pausing to admire the Massacre of Typhos, a classical masterpiece that showed the human struggle against the ‘alien menace’.

It was a sign of the times that it held such prime location in the venue. Walking to the table set aside for him, he sat down - and waited for his guest to arrive.