When stepping into this establishment, it's hard to ever imagine that it was ever a nice bar. A set of stairs lead down from the street into a trash filled entryway, the bar's door is generally always open allowing locals access in and out of the bar. An old electric sign hangs over the rounded duracrete doorway and it flashes Pakko's Plac (the 'e' was stolen years ago).
Inside the bar it's a fairly large room with tables and chairs scattered about, the sorts of folk you find in here are the drunk disasters that only a lifetime of sorrow could provide. There's very rarely any life here in this dark and dank establishment and the droid that operates the bar offers no conversation for anyone who sits at the bar. A doorway in the back leads to an old cardhouse where gambler's test their luck against each other.
You know who frequents Pakko's place? Terrible people, that's who. So that's why Fennix and Yoska Lash are here at a table in the old card house at the back, playing sabacc. They can't impress anyone with the story of how Ryn invented sabacc right now, because they're both Ryn, and they've both heard and told it a thousand times. Yoska is drinking some kind of something trying to pass itself off as whisky, in a sugary carbonated beverage, and smoking a blunt, and whining, and losing at cards. This is about how it always goes. "I still don't see why you get to be the boss. You're not the boss of me."
With his right foot thrown up across the arm of the chair beside his, Fennix's other foot rests on the floor and gives him a spread eagled lower half as he looks over his own cards. Clenched between his teeth is what seems to have been a cigar at one point... but was likely liberated from a trashcan or discarded in an ashtray when the elder Lash brother happened upon it. He puffs at the thing, creating a thick acrid smoke that floats about his head as he looks over his cards, ringed fingers drumming at the backs of them. "Listen Yossy. I'm the boss. I've always been the boss. I'll always be the boss. You gotta have... what's the word.... you gotta have the brains in the front of the team, right? I love you... I really do. You're my favorite brother. But you're just kinda stupid. Nothing personal, of course." Looking around warily at the bartender, Fennix pulls out a flask of his own home-brew from the flap of his coat, taking a quick swig before hiding it away again. Who pays for drinks when you can make.... something semi digestible that gets you way more kriffed at home?
"I'm your only brother!" Yoska points out, whiny. The natural language of the Ryn is a birdlike collection of musical tones they make with their badass flute-noses, and though he speaks fluent Core-Spacer Basic as a matter of course, Yoska's whining has a musical quality to it. But whiny music, like the recorders you played in elementary school. "By that metric I'm also your least favorite brother." He draws a card; this place has physical cards instead of holo-cards. He frowns. He's losing, physical cards are much easier for Fennix to cheat with. "You're a dick," he replies sulkily. "No offense."
Free month of drinks is at an end, which means Netep's taking care to pinch credits again, and that means that sometimes she trades the finer clubs for....economy class. Tonight's such a night. Kicking an empty bottle aside with upsweep of her stride, the little traveler takes a big stride off that last step and plunges herself into this very quiet, pretty dull and depressing establishment. The brash coloring of her hair and shine of haphazardly flung jewelry defies the dismal shadow best they can. She lets her hands swing free of pockets en route to the bar. One hand sweeps the glasses off her face so she may better read at the distance on approach.
Fennix points a finger at Yoska, chewing on the end of his cigar as he puffs more of that thick smoke into the air. "Now don't you be trying to get all smart and talk about metrics and stuff like that. You're dumb. Accept that you're dumb and your best off to do what old Fenny tells you, and you'll be better off! I mean... krif, if it wasn't for me you would be down in the bottom level of Coruscant scraping crust off of the no armed hookers!" Fennix says, reaching out to draw a card. He tries to be slick, and actually draws about three cards from the top of the deck, and places them into his hand of cards before fanning them out. "You're lucky to have me," he says confidently, eyes glinting at his killer options here.
"You are CHEATING," Yoska suddenly realizes. He's slow to catch on, here, since Fennix has been cheating the entire game, but he eventually did just catch on. The younger Lash stubs out the smoldering nub of his roach and throws his cards down, then decides that wasn't petulant enough, so he picks them back up and then throws them /at/ Fennix. "You son of a witch," he accuses, which is not the best insult because one has to assume they're sons of the same witch, here. "You think you're so smart, you think I need you for everything, to get money, to get girls, well okay you know what, I don't, okay, I am grown up." Nobody who's actually grown up needs to say that. Yoska scowls and looks around, and spots Netep. Aren't you lucky, Netep. "I'm gonna talk to that girl. That one. Green hair. Right THERE." He takes a couple steps that way, drink in hand, then turns around to accuse Fennix, "By the way, YOU copied ME on this Explorer's thing. Put that in your pipe and smoke it!"
Yoska Lash is in the process of arguing with another Ryn, perhaps his dear brother, over cards. He has a drink in hand, and is approaching Netep in between complaining at Fennix.
There's brotherly discord up in here! The pair of Ryn were playing at cards, but one's just thrown his hand at the other with dangerous accusations of - GASP - cheating! And is now strutting his stuff Netep's way. Ain't she lucky?
It was hard to miss the whistley-nosed argument taking place over there, but now that one of the gawdily-dressed gents is angling her way, Muri can't help but cast a cautious, sideways glance in the Ryn's direction, before casually propping a hand on her hip - near her 'purse' - and leaning with the other arm on the bar to place an order with the droid. "Socoran Slammer."
Fennix gasps as Yoska throws his cards at him! His eyes are wide and a hand comes to cover his heart on his chest. "How DARE you?!" he whispers in a hurt voice as Yoska gets up to start heading Muri's way. "Oh did I, did I??" he says at Yoska's accusation regarding the Explorer's Guild, leaping from his chair and starting off after his brother. He speed walks, his booty shaking from left to right as he pumps his arms. Once he catches Yoska, he reaches out his hand and slaps the bottom of Yoska's drink to spill the contents back on his little brother and hisses, "Don't have the player, hate the game, bitch!" Then he slides up quickly to Muri's side, his tail coming out to curl around the woman's waist as he smooths his luxurious mustache with a thumb and forefinger. "Heeeeey girl," he says in a terri-charming voice. "Did you fall out of a starship? Cause your smoking hot! Lemme get them digits."
Stepping into the Bar was a... relatively cleaner, and more attractive figure than was typically found in the dump of a place. Wrapped up in various silks and glowing faintly, the resident Ghostling in the Corellian district here could be found looking around to see who or what was here. The effiminate fellow paused and pulled up a datapad to look at something on it as if double checking the location.
Brotherly discord, INDEED. Poor Yoyo, he never saw it coming, even though after 20 years with Fennix he should have definitely seen it coming. He is now wearing his drink, and frowns, FROWNS, as he takes a moment to try to wring out his shirt. It is hopeless. That aquamarine space-polyester is never going to be the same. His tail poofs up briefly like a pissed off cat, then he appears at Fennix's side like the guardian angel of Never Getting Any, Ever. "Hey don't forget it's almost time for that ointment from the crotchdoctor," he says earnestly, tapping a chrono on his wrist. "Those groin abscesses are never gonna clear up if you don't do the antibiotic regime at the appointed times, Fixy." The Ghostling appears and does seem to briefly surprise him out of his vendetta as he wonders aloud, "Is that a man or a woman?"
Suspicious eyes sweep a single track over that new, furred belt she's acquired, then back to the golden eyes of the charmer who wields it. "Issat meant to say I'm suffering through the immolation of atmospheric penetration, or have you just mixed your pickup lines there, my friend?" Netep raises those digits - five of them to be precise - to 'wave' with equal enthusiasm to the poor, drink-soaked younger, who has got something /more/ interesting to say, as luck has it. Her mouth draws aside into a 'tsk'ing wince and she pointedly trails her gaze downward to the infirm groin in question. "Sounds serious," she murmurs sympathetically, but mama Muri didn't raise no fool! She winks, then arches a brow up and around to survey the newest entry...and answer Yoska's query.
"Man. Eilam!" Her glass-toting hand gestures up to catch the ghostling's attention, in case present disasters of company do not.
Eilam is broken away from looking at the datapad he has to look up at Muri, and stare a moment before nodding. "Hello." And then he started to walk that way. As he got closer, the others might notice that - also unlike a lot of others who might be in this place, or the trashy outside, Eilam seemed quite clean and in fact smelled rather pleasant(by most standards, who knows if some aliens dislike various scents). "Are you well tonight? Occupied, perhaps?" He wasn't entirely sure if Muri was with the other two that seemed to be near her but thought to ask regardless, looking towards them and nodding slightly their way.
"A man? Are you sure?" Yoska wonders, receiving this information and trying to reconcile it with what he's staring at, because he's definitely staring here, with open curiosity. "Literally everybody is tryin'a get with you right now," he informs Netep, in case she didn't know. "Me. My brother. This dude who's wearing three tissues and some jewelry. No offense," he adds to Eilam, "You're wearing it well." He looks back to Netep, "I mean if I were you I'd probably go with that guy because he looks like he had the most recent shower, but you can't blame a man for trying, ya feel me?" Thus, he's still trying, and offers a big grin, hands rakishly on his hips. "Did you know that we are /explorers/." The others are too, but he isn't aware of that yet. Corr did not provide a roster and Yoska wouldn't have read it anyway.
Ho boy. Netep should take memories of this place home with her as a lesson about curbing her habits and finding more commendable hobbies. She takes a beat to act like she's enjoying a sip of her fiery booze that smells about as spicy as she does. Eilam probably /does/ win the hygeine token for the evening. But she can't help when the Lorrdian genes do their thang.
"Everything's swell, Eilam, how are you?" Her face scrunches to the side for a sec, then she's reexamining the tail that isn't hers, curled over her hip, and delicately threads her free hand between it and her clothes, then attempts to lift it up, up, away like one might separate butterfly from its perch. "These two fine fellows are /explorers/," she adds for Eilam's benefit while her face morphs into 'awe'. It doesn't last, though, and she levels a squinty-eyed look on Yoska. "You boys wouldn't happen to be the /unrelated/ Lash duo, would you? Tales of your adventures precede you. What with the ....what was it?" She sips some more while she thinks of Corr's memo. "Drugs, drugs, admiration of money, and love for big bosoms?" Her hand grabs at empty air then, miming a honk of some asset not protruding so far from her own narrow frame.
"They know us! Crap!" Yoska hisses, punching Fennix in the arm. He wasn't paying attention to HOW these people might know them... just that they do, which is apparently never good. "If we owe you money you're definitely getting it back any minute now!" Yoska assures. "Just gotta get it from my speeder outside!" Then he bolts.
Eilam really wasn't even sure what to say about that. "So you are aware, I was not trying to bed you." Somehow the other seemed to have the impression that was exactly what he was trying to do with Muri simply by talking with her. Then again, she probably knew that just as well. "Though it would seem we have been left in silence for the moment, which is not bad, I suppose."
A sly smile of amusement watches the two Ryn make their escape and Netep smooths her shirt, checks her belt for all its possessions, then offers Eilam a tiny shrug. "Looks to be the case." *Sip* "Also yes, I'm aware. S'just as well, cuz I do believe I'd break you, and /that/" she points with a wagging finger "is not something I'm keen to risk." On that conservative note, she chugs the rest of her beverage.
"I am not quite that fragile, though a normal ghostling would be, yes. Though to that point, I do... did prefer female customers, much more pleasant than male, generally." Well, yes, he was a slave, dancer and other such as requested before his current situation. "Would it be alright with you if I inquired with you about something regarding Corr Waldin? I have intended to approach him about something, but do not wish to... cause ire." Moving to sit down next to her presumably at the bar, he orders his typical 'lightweight' blue fruity drink, because why not, it's a bar right?
Netep scoffs a sound and rolls her eyes once with a little headshake and defensive lifting of hands proclaiming innocence. "Look like I told Arwen, Waldin and I are not a 'thing', okay? I've done work for the guy, but not /that/ kind of work, ya feel me?" Oh sheesh, she's slipped in some o the Ryn's catchy lingo. "I mean...what?" and picks at a chip in the glass before returning it to counter.
There was a pause when Eilam seemed confused. "I... am not sure what you are implying? I wanted to ask you how I should ask him to stop putting us on such dangerous tasks. It no longer feels like we are exploring anything, we are not doing anything with history, or rare things. We are just doing random things that no one else wants to, for money. I did not... desire to become a mercenary, I wished to explore the Galaxy, to... be safe." As if explaining what he meant, Eilam shifted a bit and winced, "I still have difficulties lifting my arms above this point, and likely will for a week or two more, until the pain subsides from being picked up as I was."
Netep clears her throat. "Nevermind! Ehm, ah yes...the Rawwks. Pity there wasn't time to take anything worthwhile from that sinking city but bruises, aye." Not that /she/ was bitten/scratched/carted off by the irate little beasties, but she trip up on their escape and went home with a few more scrapes than she'd left it. "All unknowns are endowed with inherent dangers, and it is by way of exploring that we encounter such things! Besides, the riskier the gig, the better the pay. None of us are obligated to partake. He doesn't /own/ us, Eilam. Merely cuts us a portion of the reward. That being said, I'd certainly be happy to see less cavernous jaws or toxic environments and more assignments reminiscent of the Bimmifly. Perhaps the best way to achieve self-preservation /and/ guild status would be to toss a stack of alternative leads in his lap, eh? He'll go where there's credits to be made, I wager."
"So you are saying I have to do his job for him?"
Because that was how it came off, to him. "When I was dancing, if someone suggested I dance differently I never suggested they dance instead, I simply would. Is that... truly how it is handled by those who are free? Somehow that seems wrong." The drink Eilam ordered arrived and he drank some of it gingerly. "Maybe I should offer something to compete with him, to attract the other members over towards my side. Surely no one else wants to be put in danger. Let him run off and create some mercenary group and let those who wish to explore or deal with history... do just that."
"Perhaps the man's drawn to what he knows," Netep shrugs and scratches at something behind her ear. Okay if that Fennix transferred some of his street fleas to her...argh. No. It's just a leaf. Where did she encounter a /leaf/ 'round here??
"Diplomacy's a tough art to master, but it's skill everyone ought to try now and again. Slip an idea into your opponent's head so when they come 'round to see your side of things, they believe they've had the perfect solution all along. You can go ask him straight, man-to-man, nose-to-nose to pursue more benign explorations. Or, you can leave him a trail. OOR, yes, /you/ could launch your own excursions. Don't think he'll turn too salty 'bout losing a few members to some other operation. Fewer folk in his pocket, the bigger the cut for all who remain." She rubs her fingers together for the universal sign of money then tosses some actual credits on the bar to pay for her and Eilam's drinks. "Best o'luck, either way."
With what Muri had to say, Eilam really wasn't any more sure now than he was before asking what he intended to do. Instead, she... paid for his drink? Well, if that's what she wanted to do. "Thank you." The Ghostling started to say something else but didn't quite figure out what to say, giving Muri enough time to depart before he figured out what he'd intended to ask.