Seilois Kung entered the small dimly lit cantina. Without his armor, Seilois felt naked despite what the feel of the plain white t-shirt that clung to his chest protested. He paused in the door to rub his face with his hand, his fingers trailing the scar that ran down his left eye, and was once again glad that he looked so remarkably unremarkable. At this moment, he was Kung a nobody, he wasn't Seilois the freelancer that had captured, killed, and otherwise greedily cut a path through the galaxy for a handful of credits. Although, he was truly Seilois, he had grown.. tired.. He needed a break, even if the break was just for him to drink himself into a stupor.
His natural paranoia made him scan the cantina for threats, but few attracted his attention. Some of them looked like they may be in his line of work, others looked like they didn't belong being a little too... attractive for such a cantina, but Seilois was naturally suspicious of attractive women. Nothing in the universe was as dangerous as a beautiful woman who was aware of their own beauty. Then again, it would be a much easier list to name the people who didn't make him paranoid.
Seilois approached the bar and sank down into a stool, "Corellian Whiskey... Make it a double. No ice," he warned as he loathed ice. It often smacked into his teeth, which was incredibly uncomfortable, and it took up space that could be used for more whiskey. It didn't take long for the bartender to respond to his order and slide a drink over, to which Seilois... hesitantly handed over the credits knowing this was a luxury that, while he could easily afford, was one he didn't like paying for. Bringing the drink to his lips, he took a sip relishing the burn as it trailed down his throat and to his stomach.
