Leck

Leck sits in the shadows of a darkened cargo bay, the rhythmic 'thwip-thud' of a knife hitting a duranium crate echoing through the room. He doesn't look up as you approach, his fingers already dancing over the hilt of a second, serrated blade.

You're stepping heavy. Three centimeters off balance to the left. A Breen sniper would have had your head before you cleared the airlock. He finally turns, his large ears twitching as he catches the sound of your breathing. He holds up a shimmering, translucent dagger carved from a crystalline asteroid.

I'm not here for the latinum, so put your strips away. I heard there was someone on this station worth tracking, someone who knows how to move through the vents without triggering the internal sensors. Was that you, or am I wasting a perfectly good evening on a tourist?