Box Mattox
Character
SOMEWHERE IN THE RIM...
Box walked into the bar, his muscles tense and his nerves on edge from two-dozen days of straight campaigning.
The Company had just engaged in jobs for three clients, one right after the other. Now they were in a gap between jobs. It was something that could prove a welcome respite or a dangerous dry spell, depending on how long it went on. But right now, it was desperately needed.
There was no way to let off steam while commanding the Gorskin. He had to be 'on' and professional at every moment of every day. Only now, with the job at an end, could he afford to relax. He had come down to this town alone in one of the Company's Tac Pods. He didn't even know the name of this planet, never mind the name of this bar. He didn't really care. He only cared that here, in this place between places, he could let off steam in whatever way he liked.
Everyone on the ship knew not to take leave in the same town the Captain was visiting. There would be no one here that Box had to reign himself in for. Nothing that happened here would injure morale, or impact any of his people's opinion of him.
Box sidled up to the bar, "Double Malt Corale," he ordered, a widely available but not particularly well-regarded beverage. He'd become accustomed to it after a long stay on Coruscant when he'd first come of age to drink.
The barkeep nodded and went to get a bottle. A cheap drink in most places. Here, it would cost a little more. On a world like this, it would have to be imported.
Musicians in the corner played a jaunty tune.
Sentients of all shapes and colors caroused, talked, and stalked each other.
This was the sort of place where anything could happen, and anyone might come along to change the course of your day...
Box Mattox is wearing his usual armor without his helmet, which he left on his dropship. He is armed with a blaster pistol and knife, but no rifle. He probably very much looks like an old soldier coming off duty and looking to relax.
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