Nar Shaddaa, Club Vertica Casino
"Another one for the lady."
With a slight nod and a smile the barkeeper pulled out a bottle and filled up the glass of the young woman besides him, while Nealon tried as hard as possible to remember her name. By now he had lost count how many he had himself, and his vision was as blurry as his mouth was lose. When the translucent liquid reached the edges of the glass, the young, fairly handsome man tossed the barkeeper a credit chip, worth much more than the drink he had just paid for. He was greedy, but he was also drunk, and money was an easy way to impress woman, at least the kind he was interested in. Those that cared for petty things like feelings and conversations were far to much work for him, costing him time he could spend with drinking or sleeping of his hangover.
Suddenly he felt a vibration inside his jacket, reaching for the small comm stored there. 19 missed calls, 35 unread messages. With a raised eyebrow he skipped through the words send to him by some worked up club manager. Poor idiot.
"Looks like I missed my gig."
With a chuckle he tipped his glass against that of the woman, taking a long sip of the almost tasteless drink, before leaning back in his chair. People always said that live was hard and unfair, but honestly he never understood why. He never worked for one thing in his live, yet he had absolutely everything he wanted. As much time as he could ever need, more money that he could spend, fame, fortune, girls and a drink in his hand. His parents would be so proud. Probably. In some way.
Relaxing in his chair, his eyes wandered through the bar part of the casino, while his mind did it best to ignore whatever the woman besides was saying. He couldn't remember her name, so why would he ever need to know her live story?
[member="Liliane Lancaster"]
"Another one for the lady."
With a slight nod and a smile the barkeeper pulled out a bottle and filled up the glass of the young woman besides him, while Nealon tried as hard as possible to remember her name. By now he had lost count how many he had himself, and his vision was as blurry as his mouth was lose. When the translucent liquid reached the edges of the glass, the young, fairly handsome man tossed the barkeeper a credit chip, worth much more than the drink he had just paid for. He was greedy, but he was also drunk, and money was an easy way to impress woman, at least the kind he was interested in. Those that cared for petty things like feelings and conversations were far to much work for him, costing him time he could spend with drinking or sleeping of his hangover.
Suddenly he felt a vibration inside his jacket, reaching for the small comm stored there. 19 missed calls, 35 unread messages. With a raised eyebrow he skipped through the words send to him by some worked up club manager. Poor idiot.
"Looks like I missed my gig."
With a chuckle he tipped his glass against that of the woman, taking a long sip of the almost tasteless drink, before leaning back in his chair. People always said that live was hard and unfair, but honestly he never understood why. He never worked for one thing in his live, yet he had absolutely everything he wanted. As much time as he could ever need, more money that he could spend, fame, fortune, girls and a drink in his hand. His parents would be so proud. Probably. In some way.
Relaxing in his chair, his eyes wandered through the bar part of the casino, while his mind did it best to ignore whatever the woman besides was saying. He couldn't remember her name, so why would he ever need to know her live story?
[member="Liliane Lancaster"]