Phasma had to shoot some overconfident Twi'lek trying to make off with her helmet in order to retrieve it. With her helm in hand, she followed Highsinger's lead, putting the thing on and activating the advanced air filter on it. Finally, air that didn't smell like piss, sweat and booze. That stench was completely alien to her, and she could have gone her entire life without having to smell it. The small group managed to cross the street into a building across from the bar. Along the way, the odd-looking assassin droid dragged what she presumed was some kind of vital target across the street by the hair on the top of his head. The guy, who she had seen earlier while sitting at the bar was a Zygerrian. Seeing one of the slavers be dragged about by a droid was admittedly amusing. Stepping onto a turbolift the group made their way up to a skyscraper above the street. 

Highsinger proceeded to coerce the Zygerrian into calling their marks. Once that was done, the droid turned to both women and referred to them by what Phasma could only describe as an insult. "Servant?", she thought? She was nobody's servant. For a moment, the thought of shooting the silly-looking piece of junk that was Highsinger crossed her mind. A well-placed shot to the photoreceptors on the head and the fall would take care of the rest. However, she decided against it at the last minute. Phasma could bring it up with Raveem later. Right now, all she wanted to do was finish the mission and get back home.