Moonlighter
Nar Shaddaa
Mathieu Brion
<Hey, you heard anything new from the boss?>
<What about?>
<The meeting. The one that’s happening tonight?>
<Nothing’s changed. Boss is overseeing the deal personally. And you’re still not invited, Rat.>
<Erm… Got it, thanks. Want me to take over here? You look like you could use a break.>
<This a joke?>
<N-no. I just got back from a run and need to look busy.>
<Hah! Maybe you’re not so bad after all, Rat.>
The Klatooinian punched Cato on the shoulder and let him take up guard duties, off to enjoy some time in the spice lounge no doubt. If there was anything nice to say about this mission, it was that Cato had become much more fluent in Huttese over the last few months. Exceptionally so, even. Folk on Nar Shaddaa do not shy away from some of the language’s more colorful words and expressions. Frankly, he was just glad that the epithet that caught on for him was ‘Rat’, rather than something vulgar. Not all of the newbies were so lucky.
For months, Cato had been working undercover inside a Hutt cartel, collaborating with a group of disgruntled locals in secret to foil the boss’s increasingly brazen behavior. Never one to let injustice sit unperturbed, Cato made it his personal job to dismantle the Hutt’s efforts on his own.
His real intent for taking up the other man guard duties, especially on the outskirts of the gang’s compound, were so he could be closer to his allies in the street, and away from the ears of any other Hutt operatives. The meeting was still on. It was their time to strike. Just needed to get the word out.
Cato relaxed against a nearby post and scratched at his now grown-out stubble, pulling out a cigarette and lighter to make the wait a bit more bearable.
He didn’t actually smoke it at all. He just thought the aesthetic of holding a cigarette was cool.
Mathieu Brion
<Hey, you heard anything new from the boss?>
<What about?>
<The meeting. The one that’s happening tonight?>
<Nothing’s changed. Boss is overseeing the deal personally. And you’re still not invited, Rat.>
<Erm… Got it, thanks. Want me to take over here? You look like you could use a break.>
<This a joke?>
<N-no. I just got back from a run and need to look busy.>
<Hah! Maybe you’re not so bad after all, Rat.>
The Klatooinian punched Cato on the shoulder and let him take up guard duties, off to enjoy some time in the spice lounge no doubt. If there was anything nice to say about this mission, it was that Cato had become much more fluent in Huttese over the last few months. Exceptionally so, even. Folk on Nar Shaddaa do not shy away from some of the language’s more colorful words and expressions. Frankly, he was just glad that the epithet that caught on for him was ‘Rat’, rather than something vulgar. Not all of the newbies were so lucky.
For months, Cato had been working undercover inside a Hutt cartel, collaborating with a group of disgruntled locals in secret to foil the boss’s increasingly brazen behavior. Never one to let injustice sit unperturbed, Cato made it his personal job to dismantle the Hutt’s efforts on his own.
His real intent for taking up the other man guard duties, especially on the outskirts of the gang’s compound, were so he could be closer to his allies in the street, and away from the ears of any other Hutt operatives. The meeting was still on. It was their time to strike. Just needed to get the word out.
Cato relaxed against a nearby post and scratched at his now grown-out stubble, pulling out a cigarette and lighter to make the wait a bit more bearable.
He didn’t actually smoke it at all. He just thought the aesthetic of holding a cigarette was cool.
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