Take Care of Business

[regan]

[member="Dekkan Fray"] [member="Noah Corek"] [member="Brad Solo"]

This would be the last job she took for Spike. The last time she could be counted on by the two bit shyster to deliver his goods, or find them, or protect his sorry ass end. An employer hated by her, he was greesy, a putang hound to te nth degree, she never liked him, and he new it, everyone knew it. She never liked his club, a poodooty little place on the east end of the city facilitating all manner of less than legal deal, it was filled with smoke and loud, rude people came in and out and they were not that fearful of a tiny ginger security guard. Well not until the former officer was forced to give them a painful reason to be.

Abregado-rae, Regan Mendebras hated this place where people ignored the law, they got away with just about anything with little to know repercutions to their pitiful actions but it couldn't be helped. She wasn't an officer anymore she couldn't bring down righteous fury on their heads and on the other hand she couldn't just walk away; She had promised Spike this last job, a simple delivery of alcohol or at least that was what she was told and then she would take up her duties for the Protectorate. A smirk made its way across her face, she couldn't wait, a life of service awaited the disgraced officer, a life of honor, something she could be proud of once again.

She took her crate from the cargo bay and paid the man who had given her passage, and she headed off to the drop point, The Do or Dine. Cute name, really. It actually made the woman who could be called high strung by anyone chuckle, but that was swept away when she found no one ready to take the blasted box off her hands. “Hey I got a delivery here and places to go, poodoo to do!” she shouted.

 

[Dekkan Fray]

Abregado-Rae was not a testament to law and order. No, it was far from that - which made it a great place to lay low. People didn't tend to ask too many questions, mainly because the answers generally came from within the barrel of a blaster if they stuck their nose too close. This however, was not the first world Dekkan had found to be compatible for someone who didn't want to be found. By now he wasn't so much concerned about that aspect, where in the past it had been a different story. He was older, possibly a bit wiser, and less caught up with himself - or so he thought. He liked to think of the Do or Dine as a symbol of healing and wiping a ledger gushing with red clear, line by line. It was going to take sometime, but perhaps he'd make enough of a difference in the Galaxy for good to weigh out all he had done to tear it apart. Still, the planet was boasting a healthy regiment of Protectorate forces - and among them, himself. He'd recently allied himself with the faction after getting to know the Barony of the planet for over a year now. It took a long time for Dekkan to establish a trust factor with anyone, let alone a droid that bordered on being more than human. At least HK outclassed some of the humans he already knew.

The sound of electronic chimes came about a minute after a woman bellowed from outside the eatery. The door opened to reveal the aged man in his middle to late forties. A semi-combed head of back hair, graying at the temples. His coral blue eyes shifted to the left and then struck at the brunette who looked to be in a fairly sour mood. Drawing the towel between his hands, Dekkan gave the crate a once-over, not entirely sure who was trying to deliver goods to his front door. More times than not, he went to the Capital city himself and brought in the cargo too big to lug from the market, and used the docking entrance around the rear of the diner. To have something this big shipped to him without his knowledge - that was cause for concern, and curiosity.

"You know.." Fray started off, glancing at her with a lofted brow and drawing out his hands on the dish towel. "..most people come in if they want something." He offered in a sarcastic tone that would most likely not buy him any favors. He wasn't too interested though in ingratiating himself with a courier. No, that's not what she was, or at least not what she wanted to be. He saw the stance, the trim of her figure and that permanent scowl that just radiated pissed off to anyone within eye-sight. Military definitely, not currently in the service if he was judging right, and most likely working off some kind of discharge by odd jobs. He'd been there - more times than he cared to count, and it wasn't hard to spot someone in the same situation. "I don't recall ordering a parcel though." He offered up, glancing back into the diner and giving one of his waitresses a shout to man the counter while he'd deal with some business. The door closed behind him, and he tossed over his shoulder to lay in place while he approached. Finger and thumb forming a frame to his chin while he studied the crate, and then flicked his coral gaze towards Regan. "Whose it from?"

[member="Regan Mendebras"]

 

[Noah Corek]

[member="Regan Mendebras"] [member="Dekkan Fray"]
Noah sighed as he sat in the diner, really he had nothing better to do, he had come here to visit HK, but his secretary had informed him that the Exarch was currently busy. Noah chuckled at that, for HK, busy meant he was either doing something that only HK would do or he was probably actually doing something important, Noah's bet was squarely in the former category. As the woman walked in, Noah eyed her, his hand slipping down to his Corek Custom Revolving Slugthrower... Just in case.

 

[regan]

Regan's shoulderns shrugged, storm colored eyes narrowing. She really tried not to ask questions on runs like this. She wondered herself for a moment if Spike was really that stupid? What game was that moron playing with these people? And who the hell was this guy? The woman's chin lifted as the man spoke. She sized him up, he was pretty rough looking, he'd seen his fair share of action and more, it was probably not a good idea to start a fight here. "Spike on Corellia, I do the job, he pays." She answered his question a smirk grown only half way appearing on her normally hard face.

She sat it down rolling her neck and shoulders. "Still if you didn't know it was comming, either he's playing games with you or me, or I got the wrong dive and that...well that I doubt." When she got back, if she decided to go back that is, she and that skeez with the bad hair job and the gold tooth were going to have a little talk about wasting the time of people who were known to be a tad tempermental and violent about it.

 

[Dekkan Fray]

One of the staple rules in any business on a world that catered the crime of smuggling; don't accept packages that you don't know the source of. It was just common sense out here in the Galaxy. You tended to live a lot longer if you exercised some semblance of caution - and he'd been around the block more than a few times to know this by first hand experience. A wise practice indeed, and those that were against the notion didn't fare too well, especially in a place like Old Patch. The diner had been open a few years, and he'd had his fair share with run-ins with people who might be construed as disreputable. Often the ones that seemed to be too clean and too virtuous were also too often the ones to start trouble. Dekkan preferred the grittier, down to earth folk who were not masquerading as something pretentious or pious. He was no stranger to sin, and he didn't judge on that merit alone. He was probably the furthest thing from a robed prophet that you'd ever find, and liked that sort even less. Regan seemed to have that grit about her, and it was a relaxing notion to see that she was also troubled by things that affected the working class of the Galaxy. She didn't concern him much, it was the package that had his current draw of attention.

"Doesn't ring any bells, but I'm guessing that's not his real name, nor his only alias." The diner owner stepped around the crate studying the exterior as if it would afford some clue as to its contents. Nothing much came off of the durasteel casing, save for the metallic sheen that glistened in the lamplight from the street poles around the sector. No labels, no shipping or packing statement that he could see. A flick of his coral gaze went back to the woman as she explained that it might some elaborate ruse from this friend on Corellia. Hands found their way to his hips while he studied the crate again and pondered the implications of doing with it as was normally suggested. A small shrug of his shoulders was offered, and he turned to Regan. "Well, I'm not bringing it inside unless I get eyes on it. Let's open it, and hope it doesn't paint the sidewalk with us." If it was a bomb...he'd had a good run, if it was anything else, he wanted to see what it was.

[member="Regan Mendebras"]