Rowan looked around as he walked the streets early in the morning, not much people out except for him and a couple of other early bloomers. Rowan looked to the sky, sighing. The sun hasn't even woke up yet, it seemed. On Leor, this was the prime time to do things. It wasn't too cold or too hot. It's a moderate temperature out on the sands of Leor. Prime time to do the hunting and the gathering. Leorans didn't really have access to all of the fancy, high-tech gadgetry that other planets had. Leorans didn't need it. A Leoran's body is adapted to extreme conditions, to survive the climate of Leor and the inhabitants that shared the sands of the deserts of Leor. And, a Leoran was almost born with natural senses to find water and food. Bred hunters. Rowan was no exception to this. Leorans had what it took to survive, and did what was necessary. It wasn't uncommon for a Leoran tribe to sacrifice their own, and dine on their brothers and sisters. Thankfully, Rowan didn't eat any of his brothers or sisters. It never did come to that for him. The same cannot be said for others in the tribe of nomadic people.

Even though Leor was such a harsh, unforgiving, primal place, he missed it dearly, sometimes. He missed the ability to run across the dunes in light cloth clothes, spear in one hand, knife on your waist, bow and quiver on your back, hunting your dinner. It was somewhat intriguing to think about it. The circle of life, how everything lives off of everything, how the land is in a delicate harmony. It made Rowan wonder a lot. That led to him having a unique outlook on things amongst his kin. It was appreciated amongst his clan, gaining respect from the tribe leader. And that was respect not easily given. While his knowledge was appreciated by his tribe, his talents of hunting were appreciated by the group of assassins that offered him a job. And, he joined up. 

In his train of thought, he had walked around the entire district, maybe three times. The sun had risen a little bit, and was hitting his skin. Rowan was now smiling at the sun, feeling a nice warmth. After, he would turn his body and walk a different direction. He made his way to a bar on the planet he was currently on: Hetachi.

He walked through the doorway of the building, seeing all of the friendly and unfriendly faces that came with it. He took a seat, and asked for a glass of water. He didn't drink much outside of water and the juices of fruits and vegetables. Rowan didn't drink alcohol; in the long run, it dehydrates you. And hydration was one of Rowan's top natural priorities. Speaking of drinks, there was this one juice that was only drank on celebratory occasions, and even then, only just a sip or two. It was made from a special kind of fruit that made its home in the sands, and was extremely rare. And its juice was the most delicious thing to ever come within distance of your palate. Rowan had partaken of it only once, when a new tribe leader was elected. Ever since, he had loved it. Sadly, it was not served here. Or anywhere, for that matter.

Rowan would stay in the bar for a few hours, having asked the bartender to hang up an advertisement. He was searching for someone to help him with a bounty hunting contract. Primarily, another bounty hunter. A legal bounty hunter. One or two people caught his eye in the establishment, but they didn't come across as really friendly. They were more immoral murderers that had yet to be caught. He didn't know that for sure, but Leorans were always observing things. Rowan was definitely not an exception. He was a prime example. His observation turned to a woman that had just walked into the bar, and sat right next to him at the bar stand. He looked over to her, and observed her. With his natural perception, he saw that she was not lightly armed, having maybe more than a few blades on her, with the obvious larger blade at her feet. Rowan guessed she was a bounty hunter. He would set one of the advertisements on the table in front of him and looked another way, hoping she would take notice.