“Leave?” The Twi’lek male said with a scoff, glancing around to his friends with a smug expression. “He wants us to leave. Now, that doesn’t seem very nice.” He gave an exaggerated laugh for a few moments, then suddenly slammed his hands down onto the table. “Now, what makes you think I’m gonna let you go that easily?”

Sirka’ith showed signs of anger and annoyance, but one emotion she did not show was fear. The group had her outnumbered, which was probably why they felt they could take on someone who was obviously physically superior to all of them. Considering that they were all only lightly armed, it was an idea that almost made her laugh. It was rare for someone to even know what a Ssi-ruu was, so they were likely unaware of what she was capable of. Regardless, she maintained a threatening demeanor as she stared the Twi’lek down. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I can tell you have [i]no[/i] idea who I am. I’ll say it again, leave. If you think I can’t handle a few two-bit thugs like yourselves, then you’re [i]dead[/i] wrong. Doesn’t matter how many of you there are. Also, I’m a woman, idiot.” 

“Hmph, as ugly as you are, I bet you have to clarify that all the time.” He responded, producing a few chuckles from his entourage. “Well, I don’t care how big or tough you think you are, ‘cause it doesn’t matter. I’m the fastest shot in the sector; I’d burn a hole through your head before you could lay a finger on me. Now [i]I’ll[/i] say it again, buy me a drink.” The Twi’lek demanded. He definitely seemed to believe his own threats, as he had an obnoxiously strong air of confidence about him. He glanced to the woman in his group with a smug grin as he waited to see if Sirka would give in to his demands. 

Sirka took in the man’s scent once again, giving her a good sense of his mood, which gave her a good idea of what this was all about. Adrenaline was pumping through him; he was anxious for something, and had heightened confidence and libido. Sirka had the feeling this was all just to put on a show and make him seem tough, likely to impress the Twi’lek woman he kept glancing at. If he would have tossed a few credits Sirka’s way, she might have even helped him out, but now, she was going to make him regret it. 

After letting out another, heavy sigh, Sirka slowly stood to her feet, causing a few of them to take a step back. She towered over all of them, but the Twi’lek seemed undeterred, though with his hand now hovering over his hip. 

“Enough of this. I gave you a chance to back off, and you schuttas know as well as I this isn’t about drinks. What you looking to show how tough you are? Pick a fight with the biggest person in the room to show off and impress this girl?” She began, shifting her glare to the Twi’lek woman for a moment. “Don’t know why you’d even go through all the effort. From the looks of her, it seems like you pulled her straight out of a brothel…”

Sirka’s efforts to rile up her aggressor were successful, as he suddenly shouted out in anger. “That’s it!” He screamed. To his credit, he was actually reasonably fast on the draw, and while his shot did not hit her head like he bragged, it did hit her straight in the chest. Normally, that was enough to essentially fry any unarmored foe, but much to the Twi’lek’s horror, the same was not so for Sirka. There was a burn on her chest, but it had obviously not penetrated her thick, blaster-resistant scales. Any pain it might have caused, she was not showing in the slightest. There were a few, brief moments where the cantina was dead silent and the Twi’lek stood speechless, unable to bring himself to do anything but stand in fear. Eventually, he released his grip on his blaster pistol and let it drop to the ground, but Sirka was not letting him surrender so easily. 

Before the Twi’lek could flee, Sirka snatched him up by the neck and lifted him up off the ground with one hand. She pulled his face close, almost to the point of touching her muzzle, and spoke in a low, growling voice. The others, despite being armed themselves seemed to offer no help to their “friend.” 

“You know those stories about wookies pulling the arms off of stormtroopers? Let’s just say I can do that too. And you know what? You’re [i]really[/i] making me want to give a demonstration.” By this point, pretty much everyone in the cantina had their attention on the scene unfolding before them, including the barkeeper whom Sirka locked eyes with for a moment. Like most other barkeepers, he obviously wanted to avoid killings in his cantina, and if Sirka still wanted to order drinks after this, she would need to oblige that preference. Focusing back on the Twi’lek in her grasp, she decided to leave him with one final warning. “You’re going to go give the barkeep a tip for the trouble you’ve caused him, then you’re going to get out of here before I crush your skull and turn your head-tails into soup.” She threatened before throwing him straight onto his back on the ground. “Now, move.”

As Sirka sat back down at her table and the Twi’lek started to skulk away, she flicked out her scent tongues once more, allowing herself to take in that sweet, sweet smell of shame from the thoroughly embarrassed thug.