Riskyr had very nearly walked into the sparse, poorly set up classroom with a lit cigarra.
She had been fortunate that her droid had been present to recall her ever-traveling mind to the situation at hand via a gentle pat to her shoulder, his monotone voice echoing in her tan-furred ear softly. "Mistress, I do suspect nicotine is frowned upon in academia, even in the Outer Rim."
The bespectacled Bothan had simply adjusted her reading glasses and fixed the droid with an exasperated look and a subtle shift of her cancer stick to one side of her muzzle, her dual-braided Bothan goatee clacking ever-so-softly with purple beads, an ear twitching in annoyance as she met her droid's photoreceptors with her lidded gaze, "You don't recall the sexual, libertine, narcotics-obsessed culture we were caught up in on Naboo's academia when we snuck in there about a year ago when we were looking for any records of the two Jedi who fought in the Trade Federation invasion, do you?"
The refurbished administrative droid had merely tilted his head, his purple photoreceptors focusing for a brief moment as the Bothan nonetheless nodded, the droid responding even as he followed the Bothan into the girls' refresher, "I recall that you hated it and did little to draw attention to yourself."
"Exactly-" Riskyr mumbled, her turquoise eyes appearing somewhat sleepy as she looked the droid over, "In the Outer Rim, cigarras aren't illegal, the locals probably don't care and this isn't exactly an environment for posh decorum... But, you're probably right." The droid paused, photoreceptors refocusing as the Bothan ran the sink's water over her nearly-spent coffin nail, tossing it into the trash atop crudely-crafted local hygiene flimsi (tissue paper) and several used condoms of various sizes and exotic designs...
The Bothan snorted, a hand gesturing towards the repulsive sight with one hand for the droid to see... "...My point." She rolled her eyes. "Charming."
Before the dirtied mirror beside the door, the tan-furred Bothan adjusted the strap to tighten the satchel she had draped across one shoulder, using a finger to push her glasses into place even as she silently perused her form. A dark green, form-fitting, unadorned tank top kept her modesty intact, while the movement of one lanky arm or the other would easily allow a strap to shift to one side and expose a shoulder, accentuating any female's natural charm further and thereby loosening the tongue of any student or professor of a weaker will; this would be further aided by the exotic, protruding little tuft of tan fur exposed along her sternum, drawing attention even to her boyish chest, which was not without its feminine curves even despite its (annoying) flatness. A shift to the side revealed the Bothan's exposed thighs and the extent of her smooth-furred, athletic, if scrawny legs, the fabric of a loose-fitting pair of dark blue, knee-length shorts accentuating the curves of her athletic and toned little butt, in addition to not being the most obvious form of apparel for charming men that it would attract the wrong form of attention in the form of slavers, or anything as nightmarish as THAT terrible potentiality.
In the Outer Rim, more often then not, the stereotype of youthful stupidity and the lecherousness of the pseudo-lawful locals, when approached cautiously and strategically, would enable any determined scholar to gain a good deal of academic information in the right institutions and that, for a week or three of determined scholasticism, was Riskyr's goal here at the Mos Espa community college, as out-of-the-way institutions could serve to contain hidden treasures that many tended to overlook, or else nothing useful or relevant beyond common knowledge - either way, the matter of what was here, scholastically, would be settled, at least for a few years. Whatever she found, the Bothan most likely wouldn't be back on the backwater that was Tatooine for a good while.
The lithe tomboy sighed and used her fingers to smooth her short-cut, frazzled, purple-tipped and dyed hair, a stray forelock jutting exotically in front of her and despite her efforts to smooth it, the forelock stubbornly extended outwards. Hoping the look would add to her charm among the men, the Bothan fiddled with her fingerless, Nerf-leather brown gloves, and nodded at her droid, "Alright, Sevenkay - start recording as we walk out."
The classroom of some backwater Professor or other was merely a few steps away...
* * *
The Bothan nearly cursed as she saw the sight of a white-furred Wookiee, a dual-mouthed purple-hued Ithorian and the bony exoskeleton of an ever-frowning Givin all bearing a cigarra in their respective mouths as she entered, the room still devoid of the teacher and filled with a handful of other students in addition to the fellow smokers. The Ithorian even seemed to be outright mocking her, having four cigarras in each respective mouth, his eyes placid and glazed over as the laughing Givin and Wookiee ogled the holo-image of a bare-breasted, sensuously-dancing, makeup-enhanced Amani. Deciding to not draw attention to herself as of yet and with her recording droid shuffling along beside her, the Bothan seated herself in one far corner, just next to the Ithorian, resolving to breathe as deeply as she could to get a moderate amount of stress reduction in while the opportunity presented itself, while silently cursing her missing cigarra, even if it had been mostly used up...
7K-88 folded his limbs and sat motionless at the Bothan's side, his photoreceptor widening its angle even he he continued to record, the both of them awaiting the teacher patiently, the Bothan doing her best to ignore the raucous laughter of the Wookiee and Givin, to say nothing of the choking Ithorian next to her, her introverted mind beginning to wander and her elbows resting on her desk, hands steepling even as a figure walked into the room, features obscured beneath a hat, at least from the Bothan's angle...
(She's used an assumed identity, if we take role or anything - make up any feminine Bothan name accordingly if necessary. Also, I need to shorten my intros, apparently. Today and tomorrow might be busy, on my end, but I'll respond as soon as I can. Merry Christmas Eve, all.)
