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Tatooine was just as hot as ever, but for what was considered so, it was a nice day. A couple of fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the sky, and there was a warm breeze that was just ever-so-slightly cooler than the weight of heat burning down from the planet's twin suns. Conversation - shouting, whispers, small talk, and bartering - filled the streets with a cacophony of noise, and the restless humming of repulsor vehicles zipped in and out of the lull.
The streets of the capital were filled with all sorts of folks, most of which were partially or fully covered by hoods or scarves to keep the summer suns off their faces. All sorts of aliens and humans roamed and gathered around in the streets, all looking their own various shades of shady. A man on a street corner was being accosted by two Jawas pestering him about his droid. Two Gamorreans were day drinking over a game of marbles, looking about two shots away from getting into an altercation. A woman appeared to greet another by shaking hands, but a bag of spice slipped through their intertwined fingers. Tatooine had a reputation, and it lived up to it. This was, after all, one of the crime capitals of the galaxy, and the former stronghold of the infamous Jabba the Hutt.
Mars, or 'Aacklay' to the man she would be working with, had her reservations about working for the Hutts. It wasn't that her brand of crime was any better morally, per se, but there were two many stories about the Hutts and their double-crossing ways. Thankfully, Mars was only involved in the setup for their little operation. Her job was to get in, get what they wanted, leave, and get paid. Simple enough.
She arrived at Tatooine's capital a few days prior and had spent that time doing passive reconnaissance and otherwise just enjoying the city as much as was realistically possible. The cyborg hardly stood out among the population, especially while wearing the same headwrap every other human here was wearing too. She had yet to run into any trouble. Hopefully, that would remain true.
At the moment, 'Aacklay' sat alone at a table in the corner of a bar, waiting for Silvus to meet her. Her metallic fingers were curled around an untouched glass of vodka that she swirled around and around in its glass, and her other hand was curled into a fist so that she could lean her cheek against it. The woman's eyes wandered the bar, traveling from person to person, and drinking in the sound of the rowdy crowd more than her own drink. As chaotic as it was, Silvus wouldn't have any trouble finding her.
tag: @Moon Nymph