[center][color=808B96][h2][b]L r o n é   E r o n o s s[/b][/h2]Nar Shaddaa [b]-[/b] Refugee Sector[/color][/center]
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“I can’t keep breaking the teeth of Serroco thugs like this, Maros.” Lroné Eronoss crossed her arms as she looked over the human refugee in front of her, the expression on her face signifying the fact that she was relatively unimpressed.

It was true that [abbr=A Corellian refugee who works with Taan.]Maros Wred[/abbr] was an untrustworthy Corellian scumbag, but at the very least he was a man willing to get things [i]done[/i]; a quality that the majority of the refugee sector’s inhabitants didn’t have, including the supposed leader of the sector, a Twi’lek by the name of Taan. He may have been as cutthroat as the Hutts and Exchange, which may have been one of the many reasons why the people in the refugee sector weren’t starving or doing something stupid. He was one of the few people she could lean on for work, though she was honestly getting sick of the squabbles between Maros Wred and [abbr=A veteran of Serroco, Gang Leader.]Karco Dacek[/abbr]. Especially when Maros was low on blasters but decent on credits and Karco Dacek was high on blasters and had a habit of thinking every disagreement was a call to arms for war. It was hard to believe the two of them came to Nar Shadda on the same ship as friends. It was days like this where Lroné wondered if the hassle was worth the trade offers and sparse credits, but she sympathized with the two nerf herding idiots due to the mere fact that she too was stuck on the moon and knew how anxious and suffocating it felt. 

She looked slightly away from Maros, as she rolled her eyes. She knew what his response was going to be. She always did considering it was the same every kriffing time. Lroné didn’t like Corellians, but her situation was about as low as a swoop bike so she didn’t have any choice of who she got to deal with. In-between dealing with The Exchange or Vogga the Hutt and the handful of gamblers, grifters, and fringers she had a very narrow list of clientele. Especially considering the fact that someone in The Exchange had landlocked her. So she was stuck doing errands until The Exchange considered what she owed them paid back in recompense. 

“You said you were the greatest problem solver on Nar Shaddaa. What’s the problem?”

She sighed. There it was. Lroné turned back to him, his disheveled beard and matted hair looked about as bad as it smelled – and she was pretty sure a Wookie who hadn’t bathed in twenty years would smell better. [i]Augh.[/i]  “The problem is the odds are against you.”

The black-haired Corellian scowled as he raised his voice. “Don’t—”

“—tell you the odds? Yeah, I get it. It’s a very funny Corellian joke. Look. You’re outgunned and your feud with Karco is only going to keep getting worse as more refugees get thrown in this sector. There isn’t enough space to fit either yours or his ego on this planet, yet you’re contained to this space where you’re going to end up killing each other. Not that it’s my problem or anything. I just don’t want to get shot by an angry war vet who remembers I’m the reason his brother-in-arms who lost his arm to a Mandalorian vibroblade is missing the front row of his teeth. Just give me my credits. I have business somewhere else, okay?”

“Fine; but you’ll be back for more. You always do.”

She gritted her teeth as she took the credits. He was right, but she still had half of a mind to remind him why she was the most useful commodity in his back pocket. See how he’d enjoy being the one with missing teeth. It was a tempting thought… but a thought. She had no need to take a plasma torch to a bridge that she may very well have needed even if the sight of his bloodied mouth would have been rather satisfying. As she turned her back on the storage container that was Maros’s home, her brows narrowed in annoyance but more importantly, focus. The ‘other business’ she had mentioned to the Corellian was [i]Exchange-related[/i] and they promised to wipe the record clean if she committed to it and stop hassling her for the time being. But they would not forget her actions or the fact she had family and friends who still lived here on Nar Shaddaa. This exchange operation started with a meeting; a meeting that was at the seventeenth table at one of the worst cantina’s that had fallen out of warp. 

It could’ve been a trick, but she never knew the Exchange to try to backstab someone who was stuck on the planet who knew they had a debt to them. They were criminals, not wastoids. 

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As she found her way into the cantina she could heard the monotonous noise of the band. ‘[i]Out of tune and out of spirit.[/i]’ was a thought that came to her mind as she moved through the crowd in the dimly lit dive. She never liked cantinas or the drinks they served, but it came with her profession and accumulative experience. The kind of spit served in the dark dens of strangers and thieves wasn’t worth paying a single [i]peggat[/i] for. As she approached the table in question she saw Mol make his leave. He had already given the information away? Without her at the table? The dark-haired woman found herself slightly concerned as she continued her movement as the Zabrak and her crossed eyes as they passed each other to their respective destinations.

As she approached table seventeen her hand, as if by nature, moved to her side before she caught herself. Despite knowing there was no reason to decide to shoot first and ask questions later she was nearly ready to do so. Why? The thought made her remind herself that despite all of the scuffles she had been through it didn’t make her Mandalorian. That’s when she noticed two men, a Human and Nautolan, already beginning their conversation. She walked closer to the table as the former finished a question, though she stayed on her guard, standing instead of sitting. Lrone was curious of the Nautolan’s answer but decided to speak before he could.

“Same reason all of us were contacted, I wager.” As the two reacted to her comment, she smirked. “Lroné Eronoss.”