Desmond held tightly to his gut with one arm whilst with the other he atempted to guide himself along the side of the wall. He knew he shouldn't have trusted that damn Twi'lek, but something about her lekku made Desmond think she was bangable. Needless to say Desmond was wrong. She slipped something in his drink, but luckily he woke up in the same bar... Only now his credit sticks were gone. Desmond plopped down on the bar stool before the tender and with a thumb and a backwards jerk he pointed to one of the customers in the bar. He hadn't the faintest clue who he pointed too and didn't bother to look.
"Corellian whiskey... It's on him," Desmond said in his feigned alliance drawl
His head was killing him and he needed something to chase away the pain. The bartender simply shrugged and nodded. He and the Twi'lek were in cahoots and now he had half of Desmond's cash anyways... The bar Desmond lorded in was one of Coruscants many dives. With a name like the Drowned Hutt Desmond couldn't help but wonder, how much alcohol did this place have if they could drown a Hutt slug in it... It must've been a lot because the drinks were cheap and only tasted slightly watered down. All of this added together to make a very happy and drunk Desmond.
Desmond reached into his right coat breast pocket while the bartender turned to fix his drink. Thank the force for small mercies. The Twi'lek had left Desmond with his spice... He reached in and withdrew a deathstick. It was supposed to taste like booma fruit, but tasted more like dirt. Desmond didn't mind, he figured that's what he got for buying the cheap stuff. Never should've trusted that hairless Wookiee... He sighed as he stuck the stick between his lips and drew heavily from the drug. He was immediately gratified with a high that made him feel a little less crappy. Coupled with the whiskey it ought to be enough to see a once more happy Des back to his ship, where he would figure out his next slight of hand.
Then, reinvigorated by the spice he figured, why wait till he reached his ship? Why not look for potential suckers now. He spun round in his bar stool just as the whiskey was plopped down right next to him. Without acknowledging the bartender Desmond grabbed hold the drink and scanned the room. This earned a tch from the bartender, but he said nothing more. He had bigger fish to fry than the small time swindler.
The bar was dimly lit and dust clung tightly to the air. Great clouds of the stuff could be seen floating in the draft. The tables were plasteel and rounded except for the edges of the bar where booths were seated. A light was placed inside each booth so as to blind anyone nosy enough to try and look in. The floor was simple durasteel with a bunch of holes punched into it. Desmond figured the holes were there to help keep the drinks from sticking, but that didn't stop his boots from squelching every time he walked across the floor...
The crowd looked to be the usual rough sort, something that rubbed Des the wrong way. A few thugs in the far right corner playing sabac. A lone bounty hunter in the other, eyeing the thugs rather suspiciously. A group of spice fiends huddled around a booth, probably talking about where they're going to get their next score. Finally, the regulars. A group of nine to fivers who inhabited the lower levels of Imperial centers factories. It was from these pickens that Desmond had to choose from... He sighed, he didn't like his odds here.
He looked to his holo watch and checked the time. It was almost happy hour, which meant a new wave of customers would be entering soon. Perhaps his mark would be among them...