Purveyor of Lost Goods (Adan)

[Layla Cimmerian]

The headache was gone, and she had real clothes. It was a start to reintroducing herself back into society. Twelve Years in cryo wasn't nearly as bad as the longest duration she knew of for other inmates, but it was enough for life to pass her by and the galaxy to change. The Empire wasn't as far reaching as it once had been, she was finding, thanks in part to a Rebellion. She actually delighted from the fact given how she had been betrayed, and half wondered if her freedom would have made a difference in the grand scheme of things.

They were pointless thoughts though, because the galaxy had changed without her. For a time she had been forgotten, a feeling she never wished to experience again. She sought to make her mark upon the galaxy. Corellia wouldn't give her that, but it would give her a place to start. She had departed the First Galactic Bank, specifically accessing a safety deposit box that housed several identification cards and credits. No weapons however, she had never needed anything but her lightsabers, and now she had no idea where they were. Just one of the many things on her agenda.

Credits bought her clothing, a black sleeveless tunic with a high collar that wrapped tightly about her frame and neck, with black paints and boots. The clothing was far more civilain then she was used to, but it beat the coveralls she had procured from Hoth. A place to stay for a day or two came next, the Coronet Grand Hotel. They had remodeled since her last visit, changed their color scheme to a royal shade of purple, some furniture. The shift in the regime had changed the entire galaxy it seemed, and she was still figuring that out.

In leaving the bank for the hotel, she had noticed a bustling bar. In her times with the Inquisition, she became extremely familiar with their potential for information. It was what pulled Layla out of the comfort of her hotel room and back into society. She moved for the bar, rather than some secluded table, waiting for one of the two tenders to take notice of her and come to take her drink order. That was proving more difficult than would have been anticipated though, with just how bustling the bar was that evening.

[Adan Modries]

While Adan had been making connections on Cloud City, he still refused to being tied to a single place or patron. Socorro was still home but his adventures took him all across the galaxy and he liked that. Freedom of movement suited him. Being a lone wolf forced one to be resourceful and be good at networking and it was exactly why he came to Corellia. He didn't care about the imperials and had heard that there were many opportunities for those who knew how to conduct business.

He had been there for a couple of days and so far hadn't found anything capable of holding his interest. Yet he knew better than to get discouraged. A hunter at heart, he knew that the waiting and observation were crucial parts to the chase and finding the best prey.

He had been making quite a round across the nearby bars, but the last evening, he had watched some suspicious exchanges from afar in that specific one, and decided to return. His instinct told him that something might prove worthy. Dressed in his usual garb, practical grey spacer outfit, with a well-worn leather jacket, he made his way towards the counter.

His eye spotted a nearby brunette approaching about at the same time as he did. A large middle aged man marched up right ahead and took the stool between the brunette and him, looking as if he owned the place.

Adan would have appreciated the opportunity to take that seat, but his demeanor didn't reveal anything about it and he took the free one, ordering a whiskey when the bartender got to him.

[Layla Cimmerian]

Drinking. Being social. These were not things Layla often excelled at. It was why it proved so difficult to get the bartender’s attention. Confidence was not something she lacked, but out of her element and out of her time period, she felt like she was still integrating into the civilized world. Just as she was about to flag the attention of a bartender, the middle aged man that had sat beside her leaned forward in front of the sight line, stealing the attention that should have been meant for her.


It took a monumental amount of restraint to not harm the man beside her, and she wasn’t entirely certain that restraint would endure. Layla was not used to not getting her way, but the political climate on Force Users had been a tenuous one when she was a member of the Galactic Empire, and now existing outside of it she assumed it would be an even more dangerous idea to reveal what she was capable of. She chose not to stick out for her skills, when she could play things subtly. The man next to her finally received his drink, and she was able to reach across the bar and grasp the sleeve of the dark skinned male tender, pausing him in his passing.


“What’ll you have?” He questioned very directly, obviously perturbed by the abrupt way she had stopped and demanded his attention. “At this point, I’ll take nearly anything.” Her accented voice nearly huffed out as she processed as quick as she could what to order. Water wouldn’t blend well, and she wanted to blend for now. Her eyes fell upon the wine collection, something she could sip without hitting her too hard. “Chandrilan Wine.” The first label she recognized. The man beside her suddenly made a raucous sort of cry, and she discovered what had drawn him to the bar of all places, the holo screens located above plastering a tournament round of Smashball.


Right as her drink arrived, she gave a curt nod to the bartender in dismissal, and drew her glass nearer. The bartender hadn’t made it more than five feet away, before her neighbor stood up sharply as his preferred team was scored on and knocked her drink over with his elbow. A deep breath sucked in quickly in rage, her nose tightening all the way up to her brow, every fiber of her being demanding she occlude his windpipe until he fell over dead. She was certain she could do it and get away with it if she was subtle. All manner of ways she might pass the blame off ran through her head.


The most enraging thing? The fact he hadn’t even noticed he had wasted the drink she had so patiently waited for. Her hand gently set down on his arm, and he was about to raise a complaint when he turned back to her, until he realized her gender. Her hand tightened gently, pressing the Force into the outer fringes of his mind while it was weakly distracted by her appearance. “The Twi’lek down the bar has been looking at you frequently. I think she would enjoy your company.” There was a momentary state of relaxation that slumped his shoulders as his way of thinking was changed, before he agreed and rose, moving to go put his best moves on the Twi’lek she had previously seen accompanied by an Iridonian.

[Adan Modries]

He was a people-watcher by nature, since he had been a young child raised in an orphanage. It was one of the skills he had perfected over the years. It was one of the many reasons he could price his contracts the way he did as a bounty hunter. Of course, the brunette was attractive but there was something about her that intrigued him. Many types of people mingled in such places but she almost seemed out of place, not out of weakness or exoticism, but out of something he couldn't put his finger on. And he liked mysteries.

Nursing his own drink, he couldn't really stare much at the woman, especially since subtlety never hurt, and even more because of the large annoying patron between them. Her voice had quite an accent, and the moment the loud patron knocked her drink off, he resisted the desire to intervene. He had a tendency to help when he could, but he knew well enough that many women could stand their ground.

He watched the exchange from the corner of her eye and what he heard her say made him watch the man heading towards the Twi'lek without hesitation, moments before an Iridonian male showed up, not looking pleased by the man's interruption.

Adan returned her attention to the brunette, not moving to the now empty seat between them. "I would offer to buy you the replacement drink but I wonder whether you'd toss me at an angry Iridonian or an intoxicated Wookiee then."

[Layla Cimmerian]

At first she hadn’t thought the ensuing words to her left had been meant for her but a few key words picked out of the statement had her realizing the man aside her was speaking to her, and convinced her to piece back together the statement she had only half heard at first. She forced a smile across her lips, turning her head towards Adan. “Now how would I do a thing like that?” She played coy, that imperial accent contributing to the mischievous intention of her words. “I would gladly accept a replacement drink, but only if you’ll take the stool beside me so I don’t have to risk someone else sitting beside me.”


She was not in a position to be the person she was used to being. The old Layla would likely not be found in such a place as long as she had. The old Layla would have made a quick example of the large lout that had previously sat beside her. This was her adapting, learning to walk again. It was the only reason Adan was gifted with such pleasantries.


Her hand swept out towards the barkeep, tempting her new companion to try his luck. “Perhaps he’ll respond to you. Took me forever to get him to look my way.” She pushed her empty wine glass away, waiting for Adan to take himself up on his offer, and her own. With a bit of charisma, she knew she would be able to gain the information she desired, or at least point her in the right direction.

[Adan Modries]

She was intriguing. And Adan had spent enough years in the fringes of civilization and outright in the underworld that he recognized she wasn't one to be trifled with. He wasn't certain how comfortable she was in this cantina but he had an inkling she could hold her ground. He didn't scare easy and she didn't frighten him, but years had taught him to hone his observation skills.

When she accepted his offer for a replacement drink, he did the same with the attached condition and moved with ease to the stool next to hers, sliding his drink atop the counter, his eyes still on her. He took a long sip from his drink and then grinned slightly mischievously at her remark about the barkeep.

He called out and the barkeep didn't reply at first. Adan called out more decisively and the barkeep eventually reply. Adan ordered Chandrilan wine for the mysterious woman, remembering what choice she had made earlier on. As the barkeep took care of it, he returned his attention to her. "Name's Adan," he offered.