Filth.


It filled Z’arch’s mind as his existence seemed to melt into the environment about him, the frantic dirty wisps of life passing him by, searching for their purpose - or the exit, more probably. Many impure races scattered the seats like excrement. Greed and obesity seemed a common factor among those he paid any attention to, glutinous masses of aimless tissue, stagnant in the universe, an infection of the stars. Intermingling breathes, cleansing chemicals and invisible space fumes was all he could sense, his unfortunately advanced smell giving him a particularly vile look at the station’s entrance. His broad stature meant he forced others to alter course and his relatively tall physique have him the chance to peer out of the windows on either side, the silent expanse of black stretching out forever.


Z’arch felt naked without his equipment, but he sent it through his connection, to pick up when the time was right. He wasn't fond of the justice system, he wasn't going to give them a reason to suspect anything. In fact, there was nothing to suspect. He was in the system with other business, and now that it was concluded, he could return to his last assignment with no goons on his tail. His tail, which now caressed the wall behind him for balance, was suddenly tugged hard. Spinning on his boots, Z’archs black eyes came to a stop on the swollen face of Hirri. A dim witted alien of the most ugly kind. While beauty was said to be in the mind of the beholder, he was sure not even this whelps mothers could attribute the word to Hirri. He was a local crook, low down in the ladder, often trodden upon by others as they passed. Some how Z’arch had avoided planting his boot onto this ones face as he climbed, and for that Hirri was grateful. However, gratitude took the form of stalking Z’arch, which was less than ideal for a Yul in his profession.