"Everyone leave this room," he spoke to his assembled minions in Huttese, after a moment's pause in which he'd collected himself enough to speak. "Take the body," he added, "Make sure it's adequately cooked—this human is probably diseased. No bones, either. I don't like bones. Give them to the Rancor. Now be gone!" His retinue could see that Njon was enraged, and needed a moment to himself. They absconded with Havoc's corpse and left in a hurry, lest they become the unwitting targets of the Hutt's wrath.

Once the door had slid closed and Njon was alone, he lumbered to a control panel, pressed its keys with his stubby fingers, and produced a holographic chess board. He moved the opponent's pawn to D3, and just as he feared, his delicate scheme was ruined. "Jaaamuulooonnn!!!" he bellowed, slamming his fists upon the control panel. Oh well. His opponent had, at least, been gracious and mailed the body of that fool Njon had sent to kill him (in jest) and exquisitely prepared it for a feast. To be honest, he'd forgotten all about Havoc over all these months. He couldn't possibly remain angry, either, with Havoc's former droid GP massaging his tail while playing soothing music from its speakers.

He thumped the droid with his tail nonetheless, for no reason in particular except some lingering tension and, of course, for amusement. GP clattered to the floor, confused. "I did not tell you to stop," Njon admonished it. GP apologized, and went back to work. Later that evening, the droid would serve Havoc one last time—for dinner. The meal would prove to be so delicious that, as Njon would later pat his full belly (the almost-final resting place of Frank Bruder), he would begin to reconsider his relentless attempts to kill Jamulon.