[right][b]Haven[/b]
[sup][b]MIDDAY[/b][/sup][/right]
[center][img]https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/hollowknight/images/2/26/Weaversong.png/revision/latest?cb=20171028131632[/img][/center]
Aranea had spent most of the morning doing civilian repair jobs and was currently found elbow deep in the guts of a gonk droid trying very hard not to get electrocuted by the busted up walking battery’s faulty circuits. The large spider like woman wore a long thin black coat over her bleached fur, the outer pockets ow which stuffed with various tools while inside ones concealing varios small weapons. Atop her head was perched a large battered wide brimmed hat that was doing its level best to protect her from the sun’s rays. As she fiddled away inside it she tried to avoid paying attention to the droid’s owner who was hovering around her impatiently and occasionally grumbling to her about this taking far too long and that he was a busy man. After a few minutes she extracted herself from the droid, slapped the hach shut. As she stretched her protesting limbs and back the human owner spoke up.

“Well?”

“Looks like someone’s ripped the capacitor regulator out of this thing, its amazing they didn't fry their brains doing that by the way, and now it won't be able to hold charge properly. I can get you a replacement and install it, but it’ll cost you”

The two then proceeded to haggle about the price for her services and the replacement parts culminating in the human saying “Then I’ll get the cops to get the damn part back instead. I can't afford this ridiculous price your quoting.”

The hench merely shrugged her six shoulders at this “Good luck with that. Your just inviting more trouble, coz the Imps aint interested in protecting the likes of us”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do” 

“Keep a closer eye on your droid in future. I’ll see if i can get you a cheaper part in the meantime or improvise something for you.” 

“Bah. fine”

After eventually getting her consultancy fee out of the disgruntled human Aranea headed out into the streets to try and find either the part the droid needed or some other work. She found little success in either department however. As the sweltering heat of midday rapidly approached the Harch saw it best to seek shelter as she always did, lest the sun roast her in her fur. She deftly weaved her way through the city, the perfect image of a obedient imperial citizen who nonetheless managed to avoid ever getting within 20 m of any of the stormtrooper patrols. On other worlds she'd learned how to blend in through a good deal of trial and error. She’d only survived the errors thanks to a little luck, a fair bit of skill and a whole lot of bribery. The money she had acquired from her military and raider days was long gone however, and her current work wasn't paying very well, so all she had left now was cunning and a few connections she’d made on this world.

As she entered the tavern she spotted a few of these, criminal scum the lot of them who needed a mechanic who didn’t ask questions or who knew their way around the kind of teck that would have imperials banging on your door for even knowing it existed. A few might have been ex-CIS like herself, but you never talked about that. There was a kind of defensive doublethink going on in what could be barley called the fugitive community, war criminals helping out old comrades where they could while never verbally or consciously acknowledging that their old shared cause was the reason for their charity. It was safer that way for everyone because if the bucketheads ever managed to pick one of them up for questioning then it was best they all knew as little about each other as possible. Can’t rat someone out if you make an effort to know as little about them as possible.  

Aranea gave a nood too a small group of these acquaintances lurking around a table near the back of the place after she entered, then took of her hat and headed for the bar. It was there that she overheard the tail end of the conversation between the drifter Tavick and the barkeep. Before the latter launched into his tale the woman plonked herself down next to the human drifter.

“If your history lesson comes with free drinks then sign me up” she joked, propping a pair of elbows on the bar and resting her head on a pair of clasped hands. She was rather curious what rock you had to live under to not know about the empire. Maybe she could avoid the empire herself if she found that rock and crawled under it.