Nyx's cranial unit turned toward Kiff and angled itself slightly to the right at the man's response. Was it one of the most common backgrounds in the galaxy? The Droid began scanning through its databanks of people encountered to date; most of which she knew little or nothing of their backgrounds. Few were incredibly well-off, however, so Kiff's assessment might be accurate. Truthfully, such data had been irrelevant until just recently with her classified employer's interest in Nyx.
Perhaps it was a Droid's perspective that had made the rigors of living in the galaxy less noticeable. After all, Nyx did not need food, water, or shelter to survive. Oil, routine maintenance, and energy, of course, but those were in relative abundance in a galaxy replete with starships, droids, and countless weapons. Furthermore, in such a vast galaxy, there were countless opportunities to earn credits to afford such necessities -- for a Droid like herself, anyway. Most Droids might not be so fortunate. Their programming held them to one Master whose fortune dictated their own. A subject Nyx would have to commit additional resources toward study and analysis; it could explain a great deal about organic behavior.
Kiff's toss of credits drew Nyx's red gaze just for a moment. She examined her cards again as though they were not already committed to memory. Baldor would go first as rules dictated; only then would Nyx match the current bet plus twenty. "It would seem our fates are in your hands, Kiff." A obvious fact given his position as dealer, but a critical point now that the game had come to this.