If there was one thing Dorian missed the most about his beloved Corellia, was the brandy. He'd do anything to get his hands on a bottle of Corellian Reserve. But the import charges were exorbitant, and if you wanted it imported by 'other' means then it would cost you tens times as much. Instead he made do with a local brand, which tried it's very best to imitate. But it wasn't even close to the real stuff, to the unaware observer, it tasted exactly the same. Since for the most part the ingredients were the same. But the Corellian label, just had that 'homey' feeling to it, and this Balmorra crap didn't come close to replicating that feeling. 

He ran his finger across the edge of the now empty glass, almost hoping that it would spontaneously refill itself. The service in this Cantina left something to be desired, there was a distinct lack thereof of pretty women for a start. Which was yet another thing he missed about Corellia. He lifted the glass, and gently tapped it against the bench twice, getting the bar keeps attention. "Another." he said. In the few moments that it tuck for the experienced barkeep to get a clean glass, and fill it with some cheap shite, Dorian turned his attention to the Holonet, which had seemingly drawn the attention of many other  patrons. 

The report detailed the loss of a Republic warship, and the resulting blockading of the city-planet, Taris. Considering the track record of these so-called 'Sith', he was glad he was thousands of lightyears away from Taris. The Sith were nothing, if not 'efficient', when it come to subjugating a planet.

The barkeep placed his newly poured beverage in front of him, he quickly took the glass, then held it up a little, giving a silent salute for those lost on the ship. He knew what it was like to lose men you never even knew the names of, someone needed to remember them, Even if that someone was a drunken old man.