"I'll pay for it when I buy my drink."
Crystaall flipped off the bartender and looked around the cantina. It had a few Imperials sitting in the far back, gossiping while troopers cleaned up a mess, looked to be a rodian smuggler. She sighed and noticed that the band continued their little song over and over, not that it wasn't bad. Everywhere else had most of the tables filled with species she didn't even reckognize, except for another rodian that sat in a booth on his own. His orange puffy vest was noticeable, even with his dark green skin. She began to walk in, stomping down the steps and making herself be heard. She walked over to the rodian and stared at him as he took a sip from the mug he was given.
"This seat taken?"
"Of all the empty seats, you chose to sit with me?"
"Figured I should pay my respects to the dead one by hanging around his brethren."
"Sit."
Crystaall eased herself into the booth seat opposite of him and proceeded to take off her helmet, until the rodian's voice began to run again. He was a bit more forward then even herself. She smiled under her helmet at this as he pointed with his left hand at her armor.
"Not many hunters where beskar that's been broken down to sheet metal and still proves a challenge against a blaster bolt."
"Not many hunters know who to talk to for these peices of armor."
"You mean, piece. That necklace is a damn miracle young girl, and the fact that an exile gave it to you is even more miraculous. Many get killed by exiles."
"Perhaps I am a miracle."
"Perhaps your so naive that you believe the galaxy owes you a favor, or just maybe you are its savior."
Crystaall sighed as she took off her helmet and finally breathed fresh air, even with its scent of booze, placing the helmet to her left. She brushed her hair back and stared back at the rodian as he took another sip from his mug.
"And who says you know my fate?"
"I don't. But I know you, kid. The heroic hunter of the Underworld. Crystaall."
"Do I know you?"
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