"Dorian Quill, double." The hunter said to the bartender as he took a seat at the bar, setting his cycler rifle down beside him. Even though mercenary types like himself had become a much more common sight in the recent weeks his wild appearance still somewhat unsettled the prim and proper core worlders that inhabited the station, not that Klied cared. Privately he wondered if this was some kind of sabotage. Perhaps a rival ship manufacturer had smuggled the gizka onto to station in an attempt to cripple their opponent. It would actually be quite an ingenious plot if they could pull it off, and it seemed to be very effective thus far. It sounded to Klied like something the Corellians might do.
None of it really mattered to the hunter though. For a time he'd stay here, kill some easy prey and make some easy money. And the moment he got an offer for a good bounty he'd leave this place immediately. Let the stuffed shirts sort their own problems out. He turned around in his seat so he was leaning back against the bar and looking out at the various patrons of the establishment. He took a sip of his drink as he scanned over the customers. Mainly workers and their foremen enjoying the dancers. A few executives in expensive suits in a cordoned off private area. Some paid hunters like himself. Ultimately nothing of interest.
@Padmé