Fett showed no outward sign, but he was a little relieved that the situation seemed to be resolving itself in his favour. He didn't doubt his own abilities to end a barfight as the only man standing, but he knew he couldn't have done it as easily or cleanly as, say, twenty years ago.
Leaving the bar area, Fett kept an eye on the Ishori in particular; something about him spoke to Fett. He'd seen the same look in many people throughout his career, and it usually ended in blasters being fired, and thugs getting fried for not being able to withold their trigger fingers. It put Fett in mind of a fellow hunter, Greedo, who'd ended up as little more than a steaming carcass for his over-enthusiasm. Just as well, Fett thought; if Greedo had succeeded and killed Solo, Jabba would have given the Rodian a much slower death. Fett jarred himself from his thoughts, and took a quick scan of the corridor he'd been led into. So, he'd made it inside; the paranoid pragmatist in him immediately suspected an ambush, but he discarded the notion. If Njon, or whichever Lieutenant had ordered the thugs to stand down, had wanted Fett dead, then they'd have allowed the situation in the bar to escalate. Still, Fett kept his blaster gripped beneath the barrell, the stock under his right armpit, the weapon held tight to his abdomen; it allowed for a quick draw if need-be. He, too, knew that getting out of here may be an altogether different matter, depending on how his dealings with Njon went.
Still, his name was known among the Hutts, so he decided that once he was speaking to Njon, he'd drop the facade. He didn't mind deceiving Njon's thugs, but when dealing with Hutts directly, Fett knew it was wise to conceal nothing and not insult their intelligence.
As Fett was led into the lounge, his attention was drawn instantly to the partially-concealed blast door. Was this to stop him getting out, or to stop him seeing what lay beyond? Perhaps neither. As the barman told him to wait, Fett simply offered a nod, and the moment he was alone he performed yet another infra-red scan of the room, wondering what may be concealed in the walls, ceiling, and the room beyond the blast-door. He expected to find at least a listening device or a retractable turret embedded in the walls.
He'd also noted the holo screen, and assumed that this was how he would be dealing with Njon. With little to do, he began to pace, working out a dull ache in his leg.
