Kalic sighed as he walked into the bar. Another day, another headache inducing vision he couldn't make sense of. The Miraluka was just ready for a break. So he walked into the bar, "eyes" wrapped as usual, and now wearing his old Outer Rim gear. The kind of stuff you'd expect a freight pilot or merc to wear. It wasn't long before he had sat in the bar stool, and looked at the bartender. He smiled a little. Not a flirting kind of smile. Just a content one. He'd finally speak up, looking at the selection.
"You know what. I don't mind what it is, as long is I'm not putting a freight loaders salary into drinking it."