It had been a long last few months for Hannibal, what with all the flying around and the explosions and the work done throughout the Outer Rim. He'd been quite busy, the trip to Coruscant in particular having taken a good chunk of his time, but here he was back on the smuggler's moon. The young Knight had once again found himself in a bar on Nar Shaddaa, although this one was really more of a full-sized club. Having packed himself into a passably comfortable corner booth and made himself welcome by purchasing a decently expensive bottle, he was in the middle of one of those forms of meditation his teachers tended to disapprove of.
Listening to synthetic, bassy music in the middle of a crowded area, soaking in the chaos of life through the Living Force. That and alcohol. Sitting on the smooth table before him was a glass bottle of very green something alongside two small glasses, one of which was full. Why two? Well, Hannibal couldn't really tell someone if they were to ask. He did tend to find himself garnering the attention of interesting individuals when he came to places like this, so it paid to be prepared. Besides, more glasses made it look like he was waiting for someone, so casual lookers-on were less likely to bother him.
He was back in a classic outfit, black button up, black pants, black boots, and a very green leather coat that had been repaired and cleaned. His lightsaber was well secure on its mag holster inside the coat, though a recently acquired DE-10 blaster pistol sat openly strapped to his right thigh, glinting in the neon haze of the club. He'd traded two of his older pistols in for it, surprisingly good find considering it was technically in an antique shop. His ID-21 Seeker droid, Ego, floated aimlessly to his left to keep a general eye on things and further discourage excess curiosity.
Hannibal flicked the ash off the end of his ever-present cigarra into the metal ashtray on the table, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swiftly joined the rest. This sort of setting was peaceful to him, even if others found it jarring, and one could pick up a surprising amount of ambient information while meditating in this sort of place.
He sipped his drink and sat there, just enjoying himself, nothing of interest at all. What a nice day.
Listening to synthetic, bassy music in the middle of a crowded area, soaking in the chaos of life through the Living Force. That and alcohol. Sitting on the smooth table before him was a glass bottle of very green something alongside two small glasses, one of which was full. Why two? Well, Hannibal couldn't really tell someone if they were to ask. He did tend to find himself garnering the attention of interesting individuals when he came to places like this, so it paid to be prepared. Besides, more glasses made it look like he was waiting for someone, so casual lookers-on were less likely to bother him.
He was back in a classic outfit, black button up, black pants, black boots, and a very green leather coat that had been repaired and cleaned. His lightsaber was well secure on its mag holster inside the coat, though a recently acquired DE-10 blaster pistol sat openly strapped to his right thigh, glinting in the neon haze of the club. He'd traded two of his older pistols in for it, surprisingly good find considering it was technically in an antique shop. His ID-21 Seeker droid, Ego, floated aimlessly to his left to keep a general eye on things and further discourage excess curiosity.
Hannibal flicked the ash off the end of his ever-present cigarra into the metal ashtray on the table, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swiftly joined the rest. This sort of setting was peaceful to him, even if others found it jarring, and one could pick up a surprising amount of ambient information while meditating in this sort of place.
He sipped his drink and sat there, just enjoying himself, nothing of interest at all. What a nice day.
@Phoenix
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