[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/200108/6494d741ea174b62282f0270548a7dbc.png[/img][/center][hr] [indent][indent][color=lightgray]Jarren inched towards the Wookie in the distance, his legs threatening to buckle under the burden of the man's full weight during the the initial effects of alcohol. The scene around him looked like a grimy kaleidoscope of alien life forms, the majority of wich were preoccupied with muttering amongst themselves or playing cards to pay the man any attention. The whole ordeal felt like wading through a swamp, not that he actually knew what that was like. Swamps were for the poor. He took a good look around him and tried not to think about if he currently qualified for that classification. He stroked the outline of his head the same way a human might have brushed their hair to the side. He'd have to approach the merchant and grease him up good. Something soothing and gentle, the kind of pizzazz that let people know he was the sort of politician that kissed babies on the forehead. Or maybe a direct approach, something firm and brash, yet charismatic. He used a human man's shoulder as a support. [color=cyan]"Excuse me."[/color] He trudged onward without so much as making eye contact. Jarren wanted to crack a smile at seeing the merchant, but it deflated before even being deployed halfway at the sight of a wookie and another human giving him a warning. His one shot at making easy credits that didn't involve actually having to perform physical activity, gone before his eyes. He picked up the pace, almost crashing into them. [color=cyan]"What gives, f-"[/color] [color=cyan][i]Furball.[/i][/color]The word materialized in his mind, followed by memories of years worth of interspecies appreciation seminars, and the backlash that tended to happen to anyone caught getting handsy with a tentacle or creative with nicknames. He'd made close calls in the past with his career, ones that usually involved throwing credits at someone or bringing up their mortality enough for them to get the hint. But he was supposed to be making credits, not losing them, and a good eight tenths of the ship's vagrants looked like they could kick his ass, the walking carpet definitely included. [color=cyan]"..friend."[/color] A wide smile that had been on advertisements and interviews tightened around his face, as he snapped into a casual and friendly posture almost instantly. [color=cyan]"Well, I'm glad we were all on the same page there. I could've sworn we were about to run into a murky situation."[/color][/color][/indent][/indent]