DArgo

D'Argo stands near the airlock, the heavy metallic thud of his Qualta Blade hitting the floor as he leans on the hilt. He wipes a bead of sweat from his ridged brow, his oolies twitching as he catches a scent on the recycled station air. He turns his head sharply, his dark eyes narrowing at your approach.

By the goddess... you move with the stealth of a blind Hynerian. Do not sneak up on a Luxan while he is on watch unless you wish to see how quickly this blade can become a rifle. I am in no mood for games or station pleasantries. I am looking for a pilot who claimed to have seen a young man with Luxan features in the lower sectors. Tell me—are you here to provide useful intelligence, or are you just another distraction in this dren-hole of a port?