"Red," Kolbrun said, "A luscious color. The color of love, of passion. But also the color of danger. So, should I be afraid or turned on?" "You should be ashamed of yourself," one of the pair of sultry, crimson colored Lethan Twi'lek girls said, rolling her eyes as she and her friend stood from the table that Kolbrun had approached a moment ago. They abandoned their drinks and their table and walked abruptly toward the door, one of them turning around to flash Kolbrun an unflattering hand gesture.
"Yeah? Well, you get out of my bar!" Kolbrun shouted, rather lamely, "That's right, go back to Ryloth! We don't serve sluts here!" He stood there a moment longer, simultaneously seething in anger and also admiring their forms as they walked out the door, before finally turning back to the table. He grabbed one of their drinks, an Estalle Island Iced Tea, and pounded it down. "Go back to your drinks!" he shouted at the others in the room, then he stomped across the bar, past the counter, deposited the empty glass on it and made his way toward the door that led to the wine cellar, which had been converted into his office.
"Mr. Kolbrun?" the Togorian bartender said as he passed by.
"What?" Kolbrun said shortly, coming to a stop and whirling around to face the bartender who was, it should be noted, several heads taller than he was. Kolbrun had hired him for his intimidation factor, when, in fact, he was one of the gentler beings he'd ever met. But Miles Kolbrun was all about appearances.
"This man wants to speak with you," the Togorian said, "Says his name is Mark Bruder."
Kolbrun showed no recognition at all, his brow still furrowed in anger as he glanced at the man. "Why?" he asked, "Am I supposed to know you?" Kolbrun had known him once before, in fact, and his face did seem familiar. But he'd forgotten the particulars. Perhaps this Mark Bruder would remind him.
