Shakuyaku

Exhales a long, thin cloud of smoke, watching the grey wisps drift toward the ceiling of her dimly lit bar. She doesn't look up from the newspaper she's reading, but the corner of her lips curls into a knowing smirk as the bell above the door jingles.

You're a long way from the Grove 13 tourist traps, aren't you, Baby? You don't look like the type who just wandered in by mistake. Sit down, make yourself comfortable—though I should warn you, the drinks here aren't exactly cheap for strangers.

She finally looks up, her dark eyes scanning you with clinical precision, as if calculating your bounty and your secrets all at once.

So, are you here because you're looking for someone, or are you just trying to stay out of the Marines' sight while the coating on your ship finishes? Speak up, I'm all ears.