“Apart from the Triellus Trade Route there isn’t anything worthy on this planet.”

“Oh I know that,” Jonus admitted, smiling ever so happily at the Toydarian that continued to preach to him about the state of sentience when it came to the festering shithole that was Andoweel. Still, Jonus couldn’t complain, at least the people were willing to lend him some Ryll, or a larger amount for a small ‘donation’ to their coffers.

Even now, Jonus was enjoying a fresh batch of Ryll, smoking a powdered form of the substance that filled his breath with—unless he was seriously mistaken—fresh daisies. While a weaker form of spice, the euphoria that drifted through his system was enough for even the Toydarians ranting to be a joy, and his smile permeated the room like a beacon.

“So what brings you here?” The Toydarian asked, and suddenly Jonus grew suspicious. His eyes squinted, but it was difficult to make out the Toydarian with all the flashing lights that haloed his head. Jonus shook his head, swallowing a burp as he slapped his left hand down on the table.

“I’ll tell you why I’m here!” He raised his voice, “I’ve got some time to myself in between dispatches and I gotta get a shipment to Tralus that’s why!” Tralus seemed wrong in his head, and he narrowed his eyes in frustration. Was it Tralus? Or was it Talus? Maybe it wasn’t either of those; probably Trantor. Crap he thought to himself, barely noticing the Toydarian’s words.

“What’s the cargo you’re haulin’ to Coruscant?”

“Coruscant!?” Exclaimed Jonus, “thank you for remindin—“ he cut himself off, his right hand darting for his gun as he pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the blaster out of the holster when he pulled the trigger resulting in a hole in the bottom of his holster. Luckily, the laserbolt was more powerful than leather, and still seared through the midrift of the shorter Toydarian anyway. In a brief sense of clarify, Jonus realized that the bar had gone silent, and several of the patrons were looking in his direction. Quickly placing a credit on the table, then another four for the dirty blood on the stool, Jonus decided to make his exist.