Good Ol' Scoundrel
The Corellian Bolt
Landing on Cato Neimodia
--
Zef crossed his arms leaning back on his cockpit seat with his legs on top of the controls of the ship. He needed one final stretch of relaxation before Daro Tarsi fething tossed him into another of his insane and incredibly ambitious plans. Robbing a bank, wasn't it? Robbing a fething bank on fething Cato Neimoidia.
Why?
Well, credits. They made the galaxy expand. Endlessly. Right?
Right?
Sure thing but why was good ol' Zef doing this crazy chit on this fethin' age? The older he got the bigger the risk he'd end up rottin' in the cell for no good reason at all. Was it avarice? Avarice really was what drove him when he was young but now? Was it Joza? She was doin' a'ight as far as he knew. His two grandchildren (heck they sprung out of nowhere like rabbits)?
Maybe, yeah? If he got himself a good fortune then his grandkids and their grandkids and their grandkids' grandkids wouldn't struggle. Maybe that was the reason.
Or maybe the reason was a question - Why not? Heck, according to Zef, that was Daro's prime motivation, always had been.
The freighter floated freely on auto-pilot through the middle of the constant fog heading down towards one of the docks. When was the last time he was on Cato? Probably years ago. A fading memory of a smuggling run roams in his mind briefly before the scoundrel shoves it away to focus on what was happening right now.
"Run this chit again for me, Tarsi. Even if listening to it again 's gonn' drive me karkin' crazy."
He was too old for this chit.
[member="Daro Tarsi"]