[right][h3]The Ronto Springs Casino – Gleetch[/h3][/right][hr] Twenty-one. Twenty-one was the sum of the amount of points Gleetch had amounted in this current round of pazaak. Unfortunately for him, this means he had just lost fifty-five credits. For the third time this night, this new deck of cards had failed him. He cursed the night he bought it from that scoundrel of a Devaronian back on Tatooine. ”[b]That’s a bust. Better luck next time[/b],” the Ithorian dealer echoed out through its two mouths as he collected Gleetch’s credits. He’d begun to organize his pazaak deck once more for whichever fool attempted to play the house again. Gleetch sat motionlessly, staring down at his very own deck of cards. Oh, how they’ve failed him for the last. Finally, he jerked his head upwards very slightly. His round, dark eyes observed the dealer’s wrinkled face. The Rodian arose from his seat with great haste and pounded his fist upon the gaming table, garnering the attention of anybody nearby. “Watch yourself, scum. I don’t take kindly to an Ithorian looking at me like that. If you have a problem, we can settle it outside like true men,” Gleetch spoke rapidly in his native tongue before patting his holster twice. The poor Ithorian raised his hands upwards, entirely confused and afraid. He’d of course done nothing wrong but that was the way it went. “[b]Apologies, sir. I meant nothing by it. Now, if you’d please leave. We don’t need any problems here[/b],” he replied. The dealer’s stocks for eyes circled the room, in what was a plea for assistance. Before the bounty hunter could even reply, two stocky Gran fellows approached him from behind. It seems as if the establishment had finally picked up on Gleetch’s loud antics. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d be blacklisted. “Big guys, huh? Big guys! I’ve worked for your boss, you know! Wait ‘till he hears about this.” Gleetch began to walk away from the table, shaking his head. The two guards trailed him, ensuring he made way for the exit. Receiving a shove of “encouragement,” the Rodian found himself back on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. He stood up, dusting off his red jumpsuit before storming off in the direction of his ship. Had it not been for Khulbe the Hutt owning that joint, a few people would’ve died. No-doubt about that.