"Assuming the drink dispensers are working today," Karrde murmured as they headed back along the command walkway.
"Well, yeah," Booster conceded. "Always assuming that."
* * *As cantinas went, Mara Jade Skywalker thought as she sipped her drink, this was definitely one of the strangest she'd ever been in.
Part of that might simply have been due to the locale. Here in the Outer Rim, culture and style weren't exactly up to the standards of Coruscant and the rest of the Core Worlds. That might explain the gaudy wall hangings juxtaposed with ancient plumbing woven around modern drink dispensers, all of it set against a background decor consisting mainly of polished droid parts dating back to before the Clone Wars.
As for the unbreakable mugs and the heavy, stone-topped table she was seated at, the smoothed-over blaster scars in the walls and ceiling were more than enough explanation. When the patrons dived under the tables in the middle of a firefight, they would want those tables to afford them some protection. And they wouldn't want to find themselves sitting on bits of broken crockery, either.
There was no rationale at all, of course, for the very loud, very off-key music.
A brush of air touched her shoulder, and a heavyset man appeared from behind her, pushing his way through the milling crowd. "Sorry," he huffed as he circled the table and landed his bulk back in the seat across from her. "Business, business, business. Never lets up for a minute."
"I suppose not," Mara agreed. He didn't fool her for a second; even without Force sensitivity she would have spotted the furtiveness hidden behind the noise and bustle. Jerf Huxley, master smuggler and minor terror of the Outer Rim, was up to something unpleasant.
The only question was how unpleasant he was planning for that something to be.