[center][img]https://pm1.narvii.com/7194/925260cc375ad0ebc9d9dbe8f1f7d821c1cb1644r4-540-270_00.jpg[/img][/center]
[indent][indent][indent]“Blasted punks.” 

Oden Kenspoo’s words spat out underneath gritted teeth. His eye moved back to the Codru-Ji with annoyance, his hands slowly moving up. His expression turned into a forced smirk. He knew the people around him were not going to jump to his defense given another gunfight. At least, not while his supposed guards were off taking a leak.

“Let’s all calm down here. Just take the twi’lek and move away from my goods. Nobody is selling anybody, just like nobody is getting us both thrown out of an airlock, right?”

As the scene unfolded, the bartender looked toward the Duros and the other patrons, as if the scene only a little distance away was about to devolve into another firefight. It was a curious thing and they had certainly seen Kenspoo’s ways cross the wrong people at the exactly wrong time. It was only a surprise he was still alive. But there was a reason for that. As Jarren asked them a follow-up question about work aboard The Falling Star, they ran one of their hands against their lips.

“I mean, maybe when we’ve landed planet-side things will change. I mean, what kind of work are you lot looking for?”

They eyed Kenspoo. “I can throw you each a few credits if you make sure Kenspoo and that girl don’t start a firefight. Not great for business. Last time a firefight happened every vendor on board got fined for it by the captain. I’d like that not to happen again.” 












[/indent][/indent][/indent]