Cyril Kamos
Character
Blue Dancer Bar
Worlport, Ord Mantell
Worlport, Ord Mantell
Three months. That was the rule. Never stay in one spot for longer than three months. Usually, Cyril had stayed less than that, long enough to get the Xenia refueled and to find the next job, typically hauling cargo for some business or another. After the latest run had gone wrong, Cyril found a job working at a hole-in-the-wall bar on Ord Mantell to cover costs.
That was four months ago.
Tonight was quiet, a weekday with only a small handful of patrons. Cyril’s boss, a broad-shouldered Nautolan, had taken over the front for the evening, leaving them to handle cleaning. A simple, monotonous task, but one that kept the young drifter busy. Busy enough to stay focused, but not enough to keep them from noticing the pair of new arrivals. Two Devaronians, each armed.
Keeping their head down as the two ordered drinks, Cyril kept working. Ord Mantell was a dangerous place, after all. No reason to worry about such things. Still, something drew their gaze at the pair as they worked. Though Cyril couldn’t tell why, a nagging feeling in their gut kept gnawing at their attention. These two men were a threat. Keeping half an eye on the Devaronians, Cyril began to work their way to the back, seeking to avoid confrontation. They heard only a few words spoken between the men and their boss as they slipped into the backroom.
"One of your workers is-"
Cyril leaned back against the door, steadying their thoughts. These two were after them, no doubt about it. For what? Half a dozen possibilities ran through Cyril's head. At their locker, they sought out a small blaster pistol, slipping the weapon into their pocket. A trained motion, brought on by years of training and narrow escapes. Today would have to be no different.
"Oy! Kid! get out here, a couple guys want to talk to you!"
Silently cursing their stupidity for staying this long, Cyril turned to face whatever was coming. With any luck, it was just a misunderstanding...
Damien Dooku