"Hey! You can't smoke here."
Jules rolled her eyes, flicking the cigarra stub across the floor. Rules, rules, rules. That was why she hated Chandrila. Every second back there was a risk. A risk of being recognised, a risk of being caught. Normally, she'd avoid the place like... well, like a plague, but when you needed creds, you couldn't be pissy about things. So she gave the starport guard an insincere smile and made do with swearing at him when he turned around.
Fuck you too, cop.
She paced a little in front of the railing, looking out to her ship. It was ready to go, just waiting for the last of the cargo. They hadn't told her what it was and frankly, she didn't care. So long as it didn't explode on the way there, she'd happily take it off their hands for a decent fee. Schemes needed capital, obviously. So did spaceships and fuel. It was getting more and more expensive to keep flying. Fuel, customs fees, keeping that bottle stash stocked up in her cabin...
"Doo-drit?"
Chuck rolled up beside her, sounding customarily chirpy. Jules shrugged, checking the time on her datapad.
"Waiting on the last of the cargo." Typical delay. Another thought popped into Jules's head though. "Might take a passenger or two."
"Driiit-drit droo."
"Yeah buddy, sounds great." Passengers meant credits. But passengers invited scrutiny, so she'd have to balance it well. Nonetheless, she tapped a few keys on her datapad and registered it. Seconds later, the starport directory would list "Captain Rhea" of "The Illustrious" as ready to take passengers.