A drugged up Jamo sat slothlike, slouched in his chair. Clothes crumpled and tousled, his intoxicated grin was the only thing he wore that remained in perfect condition. His tinted sunglasses lay perched on his nose lopsidedly as he looked half through them towards the bar. Around him at his table were sat a motely crew of smugglers, criminals and joy riders of the illegal way.
"Sith swordsh and stuffsh! That's where the money ish," gurgled a human man, in his late 40s assumably, who sat stock stout to Jamo's left.
"Yeeeeeah, get in with the evil in the galaxies and you're safe!" chortled another less humanoid being, "I mean come on, what are the Jedi gonna do? Love you to death!"
Jamo hiccuped loudly as he began to laugh, his hands prodding idly and childishly at the underside of the badly crafted wooden table.
"Sho we should get shome relicsh!"
"And sell them to the Sith!"
The two lively characters exchanged banter loudly as Jamo lapsed into a dazed state, his eyes glazing over as he looked perceptively into the glass work of his ale bottle. He cleared his throat and felt the warm rice like feeling of vomit surging half way up his throat, causing him to sit up sharply. He grabbed as his jaw and groaned loudly, his discomforted not noted in the slighest by his drinking buddies.
"Capture one of 'em! You'd get loadsh if you shold 'em!"
Looking up into the drunks eyes, even in his own deluded state, the idea sounded good. It sounded profitable. It sounded easy. It sounded just up Jamo's avenue.
"Oh yeah, like they're just going to walk into a cage and sit down to be happily sold off to someone," roared the thinner of the two 'men'. Jamos grin returned after it's brief time of departure.
"Maybe they would, if you baited them right," he said as he pushed himself up in his seat, his smoke hazed eyes glimmered with a hint of excitement and melancholy, a plan developing in his mind.
"Sith swordsh and stuffsh! That's where the money ish," gurgled a human man, in his late 40s assumably, who sat stock stout to Jamo's left.
"Yeeeeeah, get in with the evil in the galaxies and you're safe!" chortled another less humanoid being, "I mean come on, what are the Jedi gonna do? Love you to death!"
Jamo hiccuped loudly as he began to laugh, his hands prodding idly and childishly at the underside of the badly crafted wooden table.
"Sho we should get shome relicsh!"
"And sell them to the Sith!"
The two lively characters exchanged banter loudly as Jamo lapsed into a dazed state, his eyes glazing over as he looked perceptively into the glass work of his ale bottle. He cleared his throat and felt the warm rice like feeling of vomit surging half way up his throat, causing him to sit up sharply. He grabbed as his jaw and groaned loudly, his discomforted not noted in the slighest by his drinking buddies.
"Capture one of 'em! You'd get loadsh if you shold 'em!"
Looking up into the drunks eyes, even in his own deluded state, the idea sounded good. It sounded profitable. It sounded easy. It sounded just up Jamo's avenue.
"Oh yeah, like they're just going to walk into a cage and sit down to be happily sold off to someone," roared the thinner of the two 'men'. Jamos grin returned after it's brief time of departure.
"Maybe they would, if you baited them right," he said as he pushed himself up in his seat, his smoke hazed eyes glimmered with a hint of excitement and melancholy, a plan developing in his mind.