The man at the bar had tastes that were... less than expensive. He'd been nursing a succession of cheap lomin-ales the entire night. Trickles of the drink had woven their way through his beard, and he had made no effort to remove them.

Clearly the man came from a [i]very[/i] warm planet. He was dressed shoulder to toe in very thick clothing. If he were dumped on Hoth, he would probably have been warm enough to go for a stroll. But he was on Coruscant, not Hoth, and the man swaddled up for a walk in the snow had gotten a few strange looks that night.

He checked the chrono above the bar. Huh. The meeting should have started a few minutes ago. Sithspit. He flicked a credit chit on to the table and got up with nary a word. Weaving through batches of people, human and nonhuman alike, he stepped into the backroom where the meeting was occurring.

It didn't appear he was that late. Not all the seats had been filled. So he sat in one.

"Jernigan Corvi. Pilot," he introduced himself. All business.