Log:An Iridonian Brings A Fork

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An Iridonian Brings a Fork

OOC Date: November 24, 2019
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Mak the Hutt, Meku Namad

"Well stab my eyes and call be Blinky..."

The dice turn up with a pair of ones, which might be good in lots of other games, but not in this particular version of Pazaak Dice. The Hutt in the wide-brimmed hat seems to be having a rough string of luck, judging by the dwindling pile of credits in front of him, and the much larger pile in front of the Askajian woman in front of him.

"Sorry Mak... er... Blinky... but you know that committing assault on a Hutt is a Class 8 felony on this moon. You'll have to stab your own eyes." The Askajian woman laughs, collecting the remainder of Mak's credit pile, effectively ending the game for today.

But Mak doesn't look especially displeased. It's hard to tell with Hutts, but he seems to be smiling. Or maybe he just has gas. Either way, his tongue is hanging out of his mouth and he's drooling booze all down his chin.

"Hur hur hur... Maybe I'll just do that. Quick! Somebody get me a fork!" The Hutt looks around the bar wildly, holding out an open hand.

"Don't just stand there! Obey me! I wanna mutilate myself!"

Nobody seems to know what to do...

It's a good time for Meku to arrive, too, when the largest creature in the room starts calling out for a fork. A young Zabrak male, seeming to be of Iridorian decent is making his way through the crowd towards the hutt, and his lips curl into a cheerful grin at the requested object. He happens to be passing by the table of a young alien couple, distracted from their meal to instead make smoochy face...

So, away goes a fork on the table, tucked up his sleeve and discreetly away from the prying eye of the couple... Or so he thought.

As he strides on by, the male stops, turning to rise out from his booth and shout angrily at the Zabrak. In turn, the Zabrak spins to face the other alien, still grinning cheerfully as a holdout blaster is produced from the sleeve of his jacket, pushed out by a rigged sabacc card holder, that cheaters use. "Back off pal. Get the waitress to get you a new one, yeah?"

Still holding out a hand, Mak seems to be in utter disbelief that everyone is leaving him hanging like this. The downside of being at the top of the foodchain: Nobody wants to help you stab your own eyes out.

"Bah! This bar used be fun, back when I was startin' out..."

The Askajian woman chuckles, her multiple bosoms jiggling about as much as her triple chin does. "That was four hundred years ago, Mak!"

The holdout blaster seems to have the desired effect, as even on Nar Shaddaa nobody is desperate enough to risk death over a fork. Well... maybe Mak is, but there's still a possibility that he was joking.

Either way, the couple doesn't push their luck. But there's also not much in the way of waitstaff to get them a new one.

Somebody's going to have to eat their food with a spoon.

Once the alien backs off, Meku stashes his holdout blaster back into his sabacc card holder, pushing it back into his sleeve. "Nice doing business with ya." He teases, giving the male a wink and turning to make his way back towards the Hutt.

With the fork spinning on his fingers, he steps up closer to the Hutt, then handing the fork out towards him. "Here ya are, your Huttliness." He says, and amused grin on his lips. "Gotta say, I'm not sure taking out an eye will be a good look for you, but who am I to deny you the chance, yeah?"

Coiled around the table like an overripe turd, the Hutt gives the brave biped an ambiguous look, his bulging yellow eyes seeming to be either appraising or sizing up. But he accepts the fork, and tips his hat to the Zabrak by way of thanks.

"Much obliged, pardner. You raise some valid points. It'd be a shame to mar my beautiful face. The ladies would never forgive me."

The Askajian woman openly rolls her eyes, hurriedly packing away her credits as if she's anticipating some sort of random whim from the allegedly benevolent Hutt in the cattle rancher outfit.

Grinning widely, Meku nods his head at the Hutt, then rolling his shoulders back loosely. "You learn from experience. Gotta keep the ladies happy or they end up throwing you around. Especially the ones wearing armor head to toe, with a tee shape on their helm." He mentions, a bit of a chuckles escaping his lips as he speaks. "They have a tendency towards violence."

"But as it happens, I've been looking for someone of your status. Was wondering if you can help me out with something, ya?" He mentions, gesturing towards a chair at the table the Hutt sits. "Mind if I plop my ass here for a bit?"

The Askajian woman is still putting away her credits as if she means to leave, but she suddenly seems a bit reluctant to do so. Maybe she find Meku more attractive than Mak for some strange reason. Or maybe she just sees a new potential mark.

"Someone of MY status? You mean the best gunslinger in all of the known Universe? Why, by all means... plop away." The Hutt gestures to the seat right next to the Askajian woman with one of his pudgy hands. Notably, he seems to have an empty holster, as if he can't be trusted with guns in public spaces.

The woman grins coyly, nearly as large as Mak himself, but nowhere near as pretty.

That grin is leveled on the Askajian, and then Meku casts it back at Mak. "The one and only, of course." He mentions, moving towards the expressed seat and plopping down into it.

"It's actually pretty simple, really. I'm a local 'pharmacist' in town. The fun kind, with giggledust, not the boring one that runs a clinic or anything like that." He says, waving his hand dismissively to punctuate not being a real pharmacist. "Not that I've sold anything around here yet. Coming from Coruscant, ya kinda learn not to start pushin' spice without getting the thumbs up to do."

"That's where you come in. I was wondering if you can direct me to who might be in charge of certain zones, so I can ask for said thumbs up, instead of stepping on someones toes." He mentions, then grins. "Or, ya know. Tail."

"Aha... an entrepreneur looking to set up a small business! Very admirable, small business is the cornerstone of our Galactic Economy, I always say..."

Reaching into one of the enormous pouches on his enormous bandolier, the Hutt produces some sort of pouch full of some sort of especially foul-smelling t'bacc. He dumps an extremely generous portion into his mouth, which immediately turns his drool a thick, mucus-y green color.

Roughly the same color as the actual mucus pouring out one of his nostrils. Neither of which he seems to notice.

He offers the pouch to the young Iridonian, seemingly very intent on its acceptance.

"Do you chew, Mr. Pharmacist?"

"Gotta earn those credits some how, yeah?" Meku answers towards Mak, grinning ever still. Has he already taken a hit of giggledust himself? How can anyone be this full of positivity?

Pretending not to notice the colorful display running down the Hutts body, he peeks instead at the pouch, and then back up at the Hutts eyes. "Ah, well I do now." He says, raising up in his seat some to reach forward and take the pouch from the Hutt, taking a much smaller dose of the t'bacc and sprinkling it into his mouth, then offering it back to Mak.

He winces a bit, at the flavor, but he starts to chew all the same.

"Excellent stuff, hey?" The Hutt chews his gloppy, vaguely swamp-flavored t'bacc, while one of the sparse waitstaff hurry over with a spit bucket for him. They seem to have dumped out the mop water in a hurry in order to free up a bucket...

Which seems to be exactly where they got the bucket they're feeding him booze out of.

"Not as good as Old Pungno's... but it's gettin' hard to find that now that the Zygerrians have been kicked off the planet. Dirty bastards... but they really knew how to motivate a workforce."

Looking out into the distance, the old Hutt seems to be in danger of slipping into some sort of reverie, or possibly falling asleep. He's been known to do that so often that it's almost his signature move.

But right before he starts snoring, he seems to snap back out of it, looking around wildly.

"Right! Where were we? Oh yes... you're looking to start moving some product in the sector... So tell me... do you already have product to move?"

While the wait staff hurry about to get a bucket for the Hutt, Meku nabs a half drank glass of water and brings it towards himself. Likely, the glass of water his Askajian companion had earlier. "Yeah... It's ah, not bad." He says, then he rolls his shoulder about the comment on 'Old Pungno's' chew.

While the Hutt starts to doze, he peeks over at the Askajian, and then back up at the Hutt. His lips curl though, as he snaps back awake. "Yeah, I've got someone who's running something for me. But I'm still sort of peeking at the market, see who buys what and all, and how much. Picking up contacts and all until I can start selling. So, I'm down for a larger variety of product."

"I see... I see..."

The Hutt leans forward, spitting about a quart of saliva in, on, and around the bucket that the waitstaff found for him, and then wipes his mouth on his bare arm.

"Well, I can tell you that an official distributor's license is going to set you back a couple hundred thousand credits. And the tribute taxes... ugh... makes it hard for anyone new to start out."

The Hutt shakes his head, almost despondently, giving a slight pause to let the impossibility of the man's situation really sink in.

"But... I might know a guy."

Taking his cues from the Hutt, it seems, Meku lifts the glass half full... Or half empty, of water to his lips, spitting into it. When he reaches forward, he picks up a napkin, to wipe off his mouth.

"Those are some hefty fees, and taxes..." He mentions, setting the glass down and leaning back into his seat. "Which guy is that? Let me be pretty clear, I'm not looking to work for someone. Cartel or otherwise. At least, not yet. And I'm really not looking to owe anyone any amount of credits."

"Fah! Of course you're not... young fella like you can't start out crippled by DEBT! What kind of sense would that make?"

Once again, the Hutt spits mostly into his bucket, apparently possessing a virtually unlimited supply of saliva. He doesn't bother wiping his mouth this time though.

"You want to earn your own way through the Galaxy. Pull yourself up by your bandolier buckle! Admirable! No... what you need isn't a loan... it's a customer! Which is where my contact on Tatooine comes in.

He bobs his head at the Hutt, especially as he seems to understand the situation. "Yeah. I'm following." He pauses, to spit again, aiming a bit more accurately than his Hutt companion seems to be doing. "Guy on Tatooine... What's he looking to buy? I don't have a ship right yet..."

Pondering for a minute, the Hutt seems as if he's in danger of dozing off again. But give him a little bit of slack, he's almost seven hundred.

"Hm... no ship... but you've got product to unload..."

The Askajian woman looks a bit bored of all the business talk, and heads toward the bar to get herself something festive to drink.

"Tell you what. I'm headin' out to Ord Mantell next week to pick up a couple tons of labor for my pal Glorkjogg. Wouldn't be too far out of the way to stop by Tatooine first. I'll give you the docking information for one of my freighters, and you can bring whatever merchandise you'd like to sell. I'll drop you off, make an introduction, and you can think of an appropriate way to thank me later."

"Yeah, that's been my hitch so far. Trying to save enough credits to get my own ship and all." Meku rolls his shoulder, then grins warmly back at the Hutt. "Doesn't seem like I've got a lot of options just yet." He mentions, spitting into the cup some more. "But, I do appreciate the helping hand your tossing me here. You can count me in." He pauses for a moment, then continues on.

"Now what about this guy of yours? Am I going to need to bring an extra friend with me to make sure he doesn't try anything funky?"

It's right around then that the Askajian returns, bearing a tray of drinks. Some sort of relatively fruity cocktail in normal humanoid glasses, and yet another mop bucket full of a mixture that seems to be made of grain alcohol and raw hamburger meat. The Hutt rubs his hands together with glee, and spits out the remainder of his chaw.

"Thank you kindly, darlin'... remind me again why we ever got divorced?"

The Askajian woman sighs, rolling her eyes in a way that's half exasperated, and half playful, as she dumps the bucket of boozemeat into the Hutt Lord's gaping maw.

Most of it gets swallowed, the rest gets soaked up by the bandanna he wears around his neck.

"That wasn't me, Mak, that was my great grandmother..."

The Hutt looks confused for a moment, before shrugging his blubbery, boneless shoulders and returning to the matter at hand.

"This guy of mine? You mean The Carnivore? Oh no... he's a sweetheart, hasn't killed anyone since his last prison stint. But if you have any friends..." He says it as if the 'IF' is a big one. "... I don't see why they can't come along."

Once drinks are brought about, Meku waits until Mak spits out his chew, before he spits his out as well. Then he inclines his head thankfully at the Askajian. "Yeah, thanks." He says, reaching forward for the drinking and bringing it closer to himself.

"Good to know." He answers, lifting the drink to his lips to take a light sip. "I've got a couple of Mando gals who can be my silent, enforcer friend, if I pay 'em right. Other than that, I don't have a lot of people I know on Nar Shaddaa just yet."

"Oooh... Mandalorian girls, eh?" The Hutt looks as if he's about to break out into a stereotypical 'Hoo Hoo Hoo' any second now, rubbing his hands together and drooling with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"I'll have to tell you about my ex-wife sometime. Meanest Mandalorian I ever met. You know what they say, Mandalorian on the battlefield, Mandahornian in the bedroom."

The Askajian wrinkles her forehead a bit. Apparently this is NOT a very common expression.

"Oh yeah. I can confirm that the one of 'em is real pretty. The other, I haven't seen her without her helmet on. They got this... Thing about that and all, I guess." Meku says with a shrug of his shoulder as he takes a deeper sip from his drink. Then he snorts in laughter about the Mandahornian comment, his lips curling with amusement. "It's usually just two or three things they like, yeah? Guns, credits and breaking beds."

"Let me tell you somethin', son... I've been at this a good long while, and I've learned that there isn't much more to life than guns... credits... and..."

The Hutt's sentence starts to slow down in the middle, and comes to a gradual stop before it technically ends. Lord Zlurbo Qwig Makooja rests silently, his eyes fluttering to a lazy close as chunks of meat drip down his chin.

The Askajian elbows the Zabrak, and whispers quietly.

"Looks like it's time for Lord Makooja's nap. But he seemed to like you, so I'll go ahead and give you the docking info." Strangely, the entire bar seems to suddenly get quieter, as if the rest of the patrons are eerily respectful of the Hutt's Naptime.

At least Meku is getting used to the Hutt passing out on him, mid conversation. His lips curl with amusement as the Hutt falls asleep, and then as the Askajian elbows him and whispers to him, he turns to face her, nodding his acceptance at her.

"Right. Sounds good then." He whispers back, lifting his drink and taking a healthy swig before setting it back down and sliding it away. It seems to be all he can do to wash away the flavor of the tabacc from earlier.