"Yeah, I could eat." Lucar muttered. "I'll take the bottomless Apocalyptic Mynock Wings. You never start the entertainment without a ready supply of food. Oh yeah, and some Crystal Fizzyglug."

Lucar motioned for Sulik to follow him to a secluded booth. There were stains where the patrons had left drinks for long periods, and divots in the finish where they'd spilled their drinks. Looking around carefully, Lucar took a commlink out of his pocket before fiddling with the settings. With a hiss and crackle, the Commlink went through about fourteen subgenres of Jizz, two rock bands, and a Trandoshan love ballad as Lucar finally tuned to the right frequency.

[i]"{...posal. But the New Republic has entered our airspace. What will you do about that, Imperial?}"[/i]

"I planted a bug between some of Delro's fat rolls while he was distracted. This way, we'll be able to tell what the frell's going down."

Grabbing a wing, Lucar took a sizeable bite and kept listening in. He smacked his lips, enjoying the infamous burn of the Tatooine sauce- so named because the flavor was rough, coarse, and got everywhere.

"I swear, these things never fill you up."