Poor, poor, poor.

[Avolon Bisel]

<font color=yellow>Aboard the Starship Trigger, in orbit somewhere inbetween the Kessel Maw and the planet itself....</font><hr>

BANG

Avolon rolled off the couch that sat in his dining hall, more like a glorified nook. The durasteel floorboards didn't agree with his head, neither did the massive hangover.

As he lay on the floor, sprawled out on his back. He groaned.

"Max!" He yelled before he relised his hangover. The sound of his own voice hurt more then the fall...

"<font size=1>Max</font>?" He said in a softer whisper.

The 'droid rolled along the ground. Avolon's proximity to the floor resonated the vibration from Max's legs nicely, more like "unforgivingly".

"<font size=1>Max, send out the normal buisness applications to the normal places</font>." Avolon sighed... "<font size=1>Third times a charm</font>." He smiled slightly, not daring to chuckle for it'd hurt his head even more, as the 'droid did as told.

[Ruben Drail Jr]

"EUGH! What's in this crap!"

Ruben spat out a few unnamable vegetables, coughing and spluttering for a moment as he looked suspiciously at his sandwich. He had been cautious ever since the whole GMA Jedi-purge event, as it was possible that anything and everything could be after him, especially other bounty hunters. Swiping a small datapad up into his hand, he gurgled some water down to try and clear his mouth of the awful taste the food had left.

"Eh?"

Quickly he swallowed the liquid down and brought the pad up to eye level, reading over the information on it. An obvious lack of education was present in his experession as his lips moved whilst he read. After the miming had ended, the corners of his lips turned up to form a stupid looking grin.

"We-he-hell..." he said, trying to sound cocky and smart to know one but himself, "Gun for hire, Avolon Bisel."

Bringing the pad up in the air onto has index finger he watch it spin around for a moment before he quickly slipped it into his pocket, making sure it didn't drop to the floor. Using the chair he was on as a prop, Ruben pushed himself to his feet, limping a little due to a nasty wound which was still present from his travels with his Mandolorian hunter friend, Boba.

"Hunters, hunters, hunters..." he said in an almost melodic voice, trying to sing, "...need money, money, money."

Scrubbing his hand through his hair to smarten it up a little he wandered about in the cockpit of the Red Alert for a while, thinking about excactly how to reply to the message.

After a few minutes, he connected to the comm. system of this "Avolon"'s ship and sent his message through.

"Two heads can be better than one... as they have bodies... and two bodies can hold more weapons than one."
In the transmition it was obvious Ruben was trying to sound smart, and pulling it off reasonably well.
"Perhaps you are interested in some help in your quest for profit."

OOC: Hope this isn't closed :)

[Avolon Bisel]

"<font size=1>I'm too wasted for jokes, Max</font>." Avolon said in his soft voice.

The 'droid replied as all 'droids do, through unintellegible whistles. Avolon had however learned to understand these sounds reasonably well. He could make out what the 'droid said more then half the time.

"WHAT!" He threw his head pains to the wind as he lept up from the ground, running to the Comm station. There was an open voice line. Avolon hadn't heard the speech for he was... incapacitated. The 'droid had it in his huge memory banks and repeated back to Avolon word for word....

"Well, he isn't a poet, but it's music to my ears." Avolon said as he turned back to the Comm system. He leaned over to the reciever, as if the message would loose integrity if he was a foot away from it. He ran a hand through his dirty hair before speaking. He tried to sound professional, not like he was a drunk, 30 something male, that had not a cent in his pocket.

"Indeed. What terms would you demand?" Avolon rubbed his chin... "Half the cut?"

[Ruben Drail Jr]

He had to sound experienced, old, wise. That was the only way most Bounty Hunters would be respected, but having experience in the field. So, for this conversation, he put on a more serious voice after clearing his throat.

"That sounds fine to me."

Avolon Bisel. He had not heard of this hunter much, excepting the fact that he was broke and jobless, unlike certain other hunters who always seemed to be off to some far off planet on an exciting mission.

Lucky frells.

"Got any specific qualifications you need for a team mate? 'Cos I can pilot, fight... granted not too well against Force users, but I'm handy enough with a blaster and a wakizashi..."

Pausing in mid-sentence, Ruben noticed the silence on the other end of the line.

"'ey? You still alive?"

[Avolon Bisel]

<font face=arial color="silver">Avolon continued to rub his head. "Barely," he said in a gruff tone, "but I'll live."

Bisel felt like a nice long nap and the hair of the dog that bit him last night, not exactly in that order.

"I'm the best pilot there is, so I won't need that. I have a slicer," he said as he looked at <font color=yellow>Max</font>, "So I don't require that either, so your skills in that area are void."

Avolon blinked his eyes rapidly as he struggled to keep up. He didn't know the time, but it was too early.

"I also have a translater," his eyes darted towards <font color=green>Kalvin</font> for a split second, "No need to tell me your abilities in that either. I could always use a man to watch my back though. But the one thing I need most, the one thing I'm without is...." Avolon sighed. "A man with connections. I've been having trouble finding work lately." That was an understatement. Bisel hadn't had a job in atleast 3 months. "Please tell me you know someone that needs buisness done."</font>

[Ruben Drail Jr]

Castaway barged hard against Rubens leg. The droid was obviously trying to tell himself, but unlike protocol droids, Ruben wasn't - sadly - fluent in 600 languages, only 3. And 'droid bleeps' wasn't one of them.

"Ah well..."

Did he know anyone who had any jobs? Perhaps he would have to hold off speaking of that for the moment as his list of jobs weren't excactly skyhigh.

"...Maybe we should meet up in person to discuss this... at a more secure place."

To be frank, there was no secure place in the galaxy, but there was bound to be some little bar on a distant planet were the two could rendevous in reasonable privacy.

[Avolon Bisel]

<font face=arial color=silver>Avolon searched his brain's database of secure locals. It turned up nothing. He couldn't think of a single place that could be considered secure anymore. Every place in the known galaxy was over run with micro bugs, capable of tapping into any conversation, especially crime talks. Governments and Corperations like the <font color=white>Black Sun</font>, <font color=purple>Empire remanants</font>, <font color="sky blue">Espos</font>, and even <font color=red>New Republic</font> law enforcements were hell bent on catching every word of curuption. But there was one place.... Smack dab in the middle of the sheep flock, a wolf could sneak in their clothings and not be noticed. A place where you could hide in public.

"<a href=http://pub56.ezboard.com/fgjofrm2>Yog's Bar and Grill</a>. <font color=green>Dogabah</font>... Transmitting co-ordinates in this data stream."

Avolon punched in the co-ordinates into a easily deciphered encryption code.

"Meet you there. Ask for me by name, <font color=aqua>Bisel</font>, and I'll come. Over and out."

Avolon flipped off the switch before the other got in a word. He wasn't in the mood for haggling or questions. It was his home turf in a sense, he was the bartender there. There was no way he'd go into a rat hole he didn't know, there'd be no ifs, ands, or buts.

"Max, time to try out the new NavCom. <font color=white>Punch it</font>."

The Astromech could control the ship's systems by access port. The coresponding shake of the inner hull told Avolon the 'droid did as ordered. The viewscreen filled swith starlines.
</font>