Dronas eyed up the death sticks quizzically before brushing the man aside and pushing his way to the bar. He had seen the effects of being addicted to death sticks when he was a child living on Nar Shaddaa and he certainly didn't want to go down the same road. He'd much rather see his liver dissolve in a puddle of alcohol. Waving his hand the barkeep came over and Dronas almost had to shout to be heard over the noise of the cantina.

"Gimme' a bottle of the Devil's Whiskey and a couple of glasses. There's one hundred credits."

He placed and credit chip on the bar and waited for the barkeep to scan it in. After a few seconds the barkeep nodded and Dronas carried the bottle and 3 shot glasses to a table in the back corner. He sat and poured himself out a shot and downed it quickly before pouring another one and letting this one sit for a second. Eventually he saw the patron who was selling the death sticks and he gestured for him to come over again. The shady looking man finalised one more sale before coming over.

"Listen fella, I heard on the vine that a certain...individual...is on the look out for some muscle for sale. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"