[member="Vassara Raxis"]
Jaster loved meeting new people, but what he loved more were friend who buy him drinks. He loved his alcohol more then anything, helped him escape the many atrocitys he was forced into.
He uncorked the bottle for nothe of them to share, finished off his own bottle in one go and pored some more for both him and Vassara. His job at the Healers Guild was to get supplies where they needed to go, sometimes set up camps where refugees can hide. He had only 3 escort fleets to do this so times were hard for him. Not to mention all the paperwork required to do so, but he was the guilds quartermaster so what could he do.
"Life has been a ride I must say, thanks to that find on the station, bussness had been booming," Jaster stopped a sec to drink, "but with the Sith on the move and the republic on the defensive and the rebels pushed back, more and more people are hurt and I go-a running," Jaster drank again, mid drink though, he thought of something, "actually, if your interested, I've got a lot of left over medical supplies from a bug out of an old refugee camp, if you could take it all off my hands I could write it all off as left equipment and do some real work, only thing though is that I did not supply you, I'm already in the dog house for pissing off the Sith."
Jaster didn't much care for the Sith, they were just another client to keep out of there refugee camps. He knew that lugging around the extra supplys would just be given to hospitals and venders to sell away. Giving it to these guys would support his efforts, plus moving supplies to unchartered space was not his background.
