"Well, that was exciting," he muttered as the small group sequestered themselves away in room separate from the rest of the Cantina. While he probably could have honed his senses and listened in, the Dark Jedi took little interest in the dealings of smugglers and other secretive types. As a Mandalorian with plenty of kill contracts and other wetworks jobs lining up every other day, he enjoyed enough employment.
And he didn't like the law enough to turn anyone in for breaking it. So far as he was concerned, it all stimulated some economy somewhere, and if it was a thorn in the side of the local magistrates, even better.
"Every day's interesting around here, if you're really paying attention," the barkeep mused. "Me, well, I'm never paying attention to anything but orders. Life stays pretty plain behind the bar."
He poured out another ale as Alkor laughed dryly. "Most people in the galaxy prefer it that way," he responded.
Another grunted reply. Alkor sipped his ale and glanced toward the room where they had holed themselves up. "You get a lot of mercs through here?" he asked.
"Only ones what happen to be passing through," the man spoke as he shined a glass. "Hardly a hot spot for the big names."
Alkor nodded sagely. "Good," he murmured. "I'm not a fan of my competition, anyway."
He noticed [member="Sky'ito Yumi"] glance his direction, but he didn't match her gaze. People who wanted trouble usually made it all on their own. Instead, he glanced through the pale amber drink and quirked an eyebrow. "This stuff tastes off," he remarked.
"Distillery got moved out to the Outback," the barkeep explained. "Same process, but the stuff they use is different. Shortage of goods from the Broken Homeworld."
"Makes sense," he shrugged, satisfied with the quality despite the taste.
