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[childofrebellion]

OOM: 6 BBY, a sabotage mission.

Cassian stands inside the door, adjusting his black leather jacket with his hand resting on the blaster at his hip. This was supposed to be an empty home, not a cantina.

He keeps his face neutral as he enters, staying too long at the door will call attention to himself and he can't risk that, not with his team on the other side. Slowly he makes his way to the counter, listening for Imperial boots and looking for familiar faces.

(OOC: Cassian is from a few years before Rogue One and I'm in chat if you have any questions. Catch him anywhere between the door and the counter.)
Tiny tag: Cassian Andor

Comments

[student_of_impossibility]

These boots are definitely imperial, if not Imperial, and also currently smudged with wax and dust as their owner walks up to the Bar and slides onto a stool. He taps the counter fondly. "Hello again," he says lightly as he sits. "Thank you--and the rats--for the meal."

Sentients wear all sorts of things in Cassian's world, of course, but humans don't often dress like Romans, although that he's in uniform is somewhat obvious both from his demeanor and the outfit. "I'll even make you happy and ask for some dessert before I have to get back into armor."

A little napkin appears.

"Yes, I know I said that. But I'm having a day and I want it."

Another napkin.

"Not the point."

A plate appears in front of Tavi, and he stares at it in utter perplexity. "What the crows is this, exactly?" Considering it's a Jogan fruit cake, maybe Cassian can help him out there.

[childofrebellion]

At the sound of boots, he turns a little more sharply than he means to and then frowns, he's never seen an outfit like that. As he processes the rest of what the man said, he notes the rats and the counter must be some sort of computer or possibly a droid but he didn't hear a reaction.

When the order appears, his eyebrows go up, "Jogan fruit cake, a nice looking on too with all the fruit on top."

[student_of_impossibility]

Tavi blinks a little to give the man next to him a look over. Well, definitely not Aleran, and doesn't quite strike the right tone for Tavi to assume the rather bog-standard 20th or 21st Century Earth. Still, Tavi hasn't been around much lately, so new faces aren't really terribly surprising.

He picks up a bit of the fruit garnish gingerly and nibbles. "Huh," he says after a moment. "Nothing like what we have at home." Not that he's complaining, exactly, considering the state of things in Alera. Fruit is fruit. "Where's it from?"

[childofrebellion]

"The cakes are from Coruscant and the fruit grows on Lothal and other planets. Why order if you don't know what you're going to get?"

As they've talked, Cassian has shifted his hands to the counter making the blaster on his hip visible. He can still get to it if he needs but this is a time to not call attention to himself.

[student_of_impossibility]

The blaster actually helps Tavi with technological level identification somewhat, as it really doesn't look like a lot of Earth tech. The 'planets' comment does more. "Bar and I have known each other for a long time," he says, patting the counter fondly. "If I ask her for dessert, I'll trust whatever she decides to throw at me."

He tilts his head at Cassian. "I take it you're new, then?"

Only a Bar newbie asks a question like that. And is probably at risk for getting something fed to them.

[angry_friendship_wolf]

Yamato may or may not notice the hand resting on the blaster, or anything about Cassian's general demeanour other than what he's trying to project.

But he does take a sip of his coffee from where he's sitting at a booth, give Cassian a quick glance, and remark: "You just missed Happy Hour."

[childofrebellion]

With a turn, he finds who addresses him, a young man that doesn't look dangerous and forces himself to project more ease, shifting his hand from his blaster to his hair, "Oh, is it good here?"

[angry_friendship_wolf]

"Depends on who's tending bar. Sometimes they're good at mixing drinks, sometimes they just try to talk your ear off about their world's motosports," he says. "It's a toss-up. First time?"

[childofrebellion]

"Am I that obvious?" He shouldn't be, he tries not to be and goes for an awkward smile.

[diehard_daniel]

At some point Daniel enters in his Atlantis Uniform and standard issue boots. He also has a vest on that a P-90 machine gun attached to it. This gets unclipped and deposited onto the Bar with a thud, and Daniel likewise sits heavily on a stool. His work in the old Satita museum was going well, but it was slow.

"I need a drink," he mumbles to the Bar as he takes out a battered notebook from a vest pocket and starts to annotate it. A napikin appears on the Bar's surface.

"Oh, uh, beer, I guess," he says. A beer appears then with another napkin.

"Thanks," he says. And then a strange interaction happens between Daniel and these napkins. "It's just long hours in the feild right now. Can you believe it? Atlantis! Yeah, I know it took them like 5 years! Yeah, that was unfortunate. How are you?"

[childofrebellion]

Cassian notes the man's uniform, its not familiar but could almost be a pilot's jumpsuit though the blaster is large and not one he knows. Atlantis is apparently his base, again one he doesn't know but he'll remember the name.

The conversation is odd but perhaps the counter is a kind of computer and so he says, "Could I have a caf?"

When one appears, he takes a small sip and then a longer one, this is better quality than he's had in ages.

[diehard_daniel]

A note appears, "Ah the Wraith aren't making any of this easier. Apparently, there is a new queen in town, that is trying to take over the galaxy. It's not pretty."

Another note, "Well, I am sure most of the other factions like it about as much as we do. Yeah, but she's building an armada... but what do I know, I'm just an archaeologist.... Oh come on, Bar! Why would anyone listen to someone who has had to deal with this crap before. You know how it is."

This exchange could go on for days.

[childofrebellion]

None of the names are making sense and this isn't a galaxy he knows. Cassian picks up his caf and moves towards where there's a screen and the angles on the cantina seem better.

[ostro_goth]

A grim, dark human with a a huge battle axe is leaning on the counter, sipping something red from a clay cup.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian notes him, that axe looks like a bounty hunter weapon, they always like to have show off weapons. At the moment, the Empire doesn't have a bounty on him, but he doesn't want to risk anything and turns away from the man.

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings," the axe-man who might be a bounty hunter says, in a light and dry voice.

[childofrebellion]

He's not certain who the man's talking to and glances around the area before turning back, "Are you speaking to me?"

[last_kallig]

Are boots Imperial boots just because an Imperial is wearing them? (Admittedly, Ibani is the wrong KIND of Imperial by a span of at least three thousand years.)

"Are you looking for someone in particular?"

She's wearing a beige shirt, pants, and boots that all look as if they were designed to take a beating, possibly for years. The utility/weapons belt she's wearing is pretty ordinary... except for the lightsaber on one hip.

[childofrebellion]

His hand lingers on his blaster when she approaches, she doesn't look obviously Imperial or like she's with the Rebellion. The weapon at her hip is odd, that can't be what he thinks it is, there aren't any more Jedi.

Whatever she is, she's someone possibly from his world and that means he needs to not draw too much attention for the sake of his mission, variation of the truth will work best.

He forces his hand to move away from his blaster as he looks at her, "No, I've never been in this cantina before, just finding my way around."

[last_kallig]

Ibani nods. She has some idea of what he's feeling, thanks to the Force. Interesting. A rebel, maybe? She wonders if he knows Quinlan Voss.

"It tends to sneak up on people, especially first time arrivals," she says, smiling. "I was expecting, well, something very different the first time I came here." She's....not going to mention the Sith Academy on Korriban if she can help it. Call it a hunch.

[childofrebellion]

"I've never known a place to sneak up on someone. Does it have a reason?" That seems like a story that would be told about the unknown reaches of space.

[hecu_marine]

Boots, yes, uniform, yes, Imperial, ahahahano. Not unless the Empire's got some very weird specialist uniforms, anyway, and since this one's marked and printed in several places with lettering that looks nothing at all like the standard Aurebesh that's not especially likely.

Plus Imps don't usually seem to travel around with three-legged eyeball creatures trailing at their heels, although that of course can vary during off hours. They're human (or whatever), same as anyone else.

"Ma'am," Shephard says to the Bar as he and the eyeball creature come up nearby, "I been dealin' with a fuck-ton of new folk too stupid to know which end of their pants is the one they step into. You mind fixin' me up with somethin' on the strong side, 'n maybe givin' me a bowl of somethin' a little more suitable for Luckner here?"

The eyeball creature stands up on its hind leg and leans its forehoof things against the bar somewhere around Shephard's knee height.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian's leaning against the counter by this time with a mug of caf, it gives him a better view and he watches the man approach.

The creatures seem obedient and while that's a definite uniform not one he knows and he chuckles at the complaint, he's known recruits like that, turning towards Shephard, "What were they supposed to be learning."

[hecu_marine]

The Bar provides a bowl of something amethyst-purple and lumpy, which Shephard places on the floor. As Luckner drops its front end over the bowl and begins to emit small ohm nom nom noises, Shephard says, "Basic ship layout and evacuation drills. I got thirty newcomers dumped on me today who all wanted in on the fuckin' Borealis even though ain't but one or two of 'em never so much as set foot on more'n a fuckin' sailboat in their fuckin' lives. It ain't all that hard to follow the fuckin' lines on the wall if you can't follow a fuckin' order. Swear to God I'mma replace half of 'em with Vortigaunts first chance I fuckin' git...."

The profoundly unimpressed face is directed at people not actually present in Milliways, for reference.

[childofrebellion]

"How soon can you transfer them someplace else or do they have to be battle ready in a few weeks? What type of ship is the Borealis?"

Vortigaunts isn't a species he knows but he'll look it up at another time.