RPlog:Liquid Breakfast

SETTING: The Sandbar: Caspar: A large, comfortable room creates the main part of Plaxton City's infamous Sandbar, survivor of no less than three rounds of destruction, once more back on its feet. Refurbished to much the same state it had enjoyed prior to the invasion of Caspar at Imperial hands, the place boasts dark wood panelling on its walls, and myriad booths and tables of occasionally battered but sturdy lighter wood, and a number of both old and brand new holoposters hung here and there on the walls. Several deep blue glass windows allow light in from outside, while keeping the ambient light level fairly low. The marble bar that survived the recent war still remains, more battered than before, but once again serving as the domain of Ariani; the loft, too, has been restored, providing yet more seating and an excellent view of the low stage towards the back of the room, where the local band called the Womprats play each night.

PLAYERS: Adam Shadow: The human male before you stands just slightly less than 6 feet tall. He appears to be trim and well built, although not huge and rippling with muscles. The lean, wiry human has brown hair that is trimmed extremely short, barely more than a quarter of an inch remains. His dark brown, almost black eyes scan the area, picking up various details. This man is wearing a black long-coat that hangs down to his calves, over a white turtleneck and black vest. The coat has deep pockets on the outside of it, while the vest also has several pockets and seems to be lightly armored. On his legs are black pants tucked into black spacer's boots. The boots are highly polished, and reflect the lighting in the area. On the right lapel of his coat is a small pin, about the size of a fingernail. If you look closely, you can see that the pin is a small carving of a dragon's head, open maw facing the viewer.

Gimel Daleth: 1.65 meters of Rodian with greenish-blue skin and an extra-wide strip of spikes over the head which are darker blue than the skin. The pointed right ear is missing a slice out of the back and lobe and a matching mark along that section of head indicate that whatever took the ear also damaged the scalp behind. There is a half-moon slice out of the left cheek where the skin flap was re-sealed not quite seamlessly and a regrowth of skin around both wrists which is smooth, rather than the typically textured Rodian skin, and darker than the surrounding areas. Military green utility pants with multiple pockets are tucked into the tops of black boots with soft soles. A khaki long-sleeved, loose utility shirt is worn beneath a longcoat of dark brown leather with a high collar turned up in back. The coat ties closed, but is left unfastened. An oversized gray attache is slung over the shoulder on the left. The Rodian wears broken-in body armor in dark gray, the knees, elbows, and shins of which show evidence of slight abrasion.

Krel Scrinae: While Quarren have often been called "squid-heads" as an insult, it does have some basis in truth. Krel is no exception to this, mottled rust-orange flesh covering hairless head and sidehorns, contrasting with deep blue eyes on the way to lending its color to the four foot-long tentacles that surround and conceal his mouth. The rest of his skin is the same uniform (if mottling can be called uniform) color, three fingered hands tipped with suction cups at their ends. He is currently clad in a three layered arrangement of robes which is somewhat of a fashion amongst Quarren when out and about in reasonable comfort, that comfort enhanced by the very nature of what he wears. The exact coloration of the robes will vary (and thus is usually noted in poses), but the individual parts do not vary much at all. The most notable part of the outfit is the long and loose robe that covers him from neck to wrists, and almost down to his feet. Made of grafiform, it not only conceals much of his exact shape beneath its curls and folds, but moves easily with him as he goes from place to place. This is actually the outfit's middle layer, most of the innermost layer is seen where the closely tailored slacks of cyrene silk extend below the level of the midrobe, down to meet the shoes that wrap his his feet. The outermost layer of his robes is actually more a shoulder cape, longest in the back and shortest at the front, sides closed in the middle by a diamond-shaped clasp.

Asli Nayana: A humanoid woman with a calm, intense demeanour. She is around 175cm tall and looks around like she's in her mid-twenties. She's medium-built and well toned but not overly muscular. Her face is solemn but her deep brown eyes are gentle. Delicate Sar spots run down the right side of her face and neck in a dapple of mahogany. A deep ochre line of henna with closely-spaced dots on either side runs down from mid-point on her bottom lip to her chin. A similarly coloured apex with closely-spaced dots on the upper side and one large dot in the centre connects her eyebrows. Her glossy ash-blonde hair is tied back in a neat bun on the nape of her neck.

She's currently wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, a pale blue long-sleeved linen tunic, and loose linen trousers that are in a fetching shade of beige. She's got a brown leather handbag slung on a long strap over her right shoulder and on her feet she wears comfortable and sensible sandals in a matching colour. A delicate silver hoop hangs from the lower lobe of each ear and she's got the functional standard-issue chrono of CDU strapped to her right wrist.

Shintu: The hair has been completely shaved off that casts off a almost dull shine. The eyes are particulary the features of his face. The cornea of the eye has been transformed and colored to portray a very black color, with the pupil of his eyes casting a blood red color. the fineness of the eyes are sucken a bit, to give off this drastic horrific look. His face seems to be pale also, a shade more towards white. The body itself seems fit and trim for a person that is rather heavily active. His muscular tone is precise, not overly done nor under. Worn over this man is a black long sleeved shirt that comes down to his wrists. The shirt tucks into dark black pants that come down to the knee length. This clothing is fitted to be worn tightly and fittingly to the person for greater movements. Connecting at the knees are knee length black boots. Worn over his hands are black gloves.

The Tale
This morning finds Shadow seated at his customary table back in a far corner of the SandBar. The morning traffic in the bar is light, and he is nursing his customary morning beverage of steaming hot chocolate. Occasionally he reaches up to run his hand over his newly shorn hair, barely a half-inch remains of the formerly thick brown locks. At a giggle from the bar, he turns a glower at Ariani and Emma, who are laughing at his obvious discomfort with the new 'do. Saluting the two sisters with his cup, he takes another sip from his drink and runs his hand over his head again.

At least faceted eyes cannot go bloodshot from sleepless nights, but the Rodian's antennae are decidedly droopy this morning. Should anyone have been in a position to hear, several loud, angry words in gutter Huttese could be heard just as the door to the bar opened, Daleth pouring self into the establishment with some effort. The expensively dressed executive is for better days, this particular being is garbed for comfort and motion and stalks in with squared shoulders and the sort of stride business robes simply cannot accomodate. No flourish, the strip of crystalline vertex is flipped onto the bar so it slides nearly to the opposite edge before coming to an abrupt halt. In typical buzzy, accented Basic Daleth speaks three words, "Caf with whiskey." Within moments, the drink is on the bartop and, as always, Daleth has turned to walk away, drink in hand, before anyone can find enough chance to cover the difference. The Rodian could drink for a week on what was paid for the caf, but it's becoming a standard practice here. The bartender's gaze alerted the Hunter, someone of interest is in here, but it's several seconds before the sleep-deprived being realizes who the Human in the buzz cut actually is. This calls for a drink, and by the time Daleth's ready to approach the table, the call is being made over one leather clad shoulder, accompanied by the lifting of the cup, 'Another, please." And then the Rodian's walking toward the table, antennae canted outward in mild puzzlement.

Slipping into the room at mid afternoon and making his way towards a table near the back, is Shintu. He yawns, stretching and casts a look around before settling into a small chair at his own table. He yawns again and groans, wiping at his eyes a little and casts a look towards the front. A hmm is given before he stands and walks over to the front "Could I get some Chocolate milk with a burger or somethin good?" He inquires lightly.

Seeing the Rodian enter the bar, Shadow drops his boots to the floor and kicks the chair they had formerly occupied out, signaling the usual offer of morning verbal fencing. As Daleth approaches, the Commander notes the unusually... underdressed style the being is sporting today. And he's spent enough morning time with the Rodian to be able to pick up on the drooping antennae and gruff attitude. Sitting up a bit straighter and cupping the mug in both hands, the thin Corellian nods at the chair opposite himself and takes a sip of his beverage. "Rough night, friend Daleth?" This is delivered with just a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth, rather than the wide grin that usually accompanies his barbs.

The chair scrapes and Daleth deals with the sound with another long draught of spiked caff. There's still a certain style to the self-seating, hands dealing with the longcoat in a certain way, one leg cocked to take the weight until the Rodian is settled in, but this morning's landing is graceless and causes a sort of fumpfing sound at the terminus of the act. "Indeed." More caf-and-booze to shore up the next sentence and a near-empty cup touches down onto tabletop soon after. "My ladyfriend had a bad night, so I had a bad night. Only one of us is pregnant, thank the Hunter Gods, but the other wishes it were over already."

"Hmmmm..." Shadow notes the graceless landing, for the Rodian, and the excessive amount of drink being served. Finishing his own drink in a couple of very hot swallows, Shadow makes a signal to Ariani behind the bar. She nods, and a moment later Emma brings him another steming mug, this one on a napkin. Sitting up and settling his coat more comfortably on his shoulders, the Commander grabs both cup and napkin, and brings the cup up for another sip. He then crumples the napkin and tucks it into his coat pocket. "Not your usual morning beverage, Daleth. This one seems a litle harder than usual." He chuckles as the Rodian takes another large amount of drink. "Surely she wasn't up all night?"

Timing the last swallow to the appearance of the bartender, Daleth puts the cup down and turns the handle away, catching Emma's eye. The Rodian's first visit to the bar, or at least first in this current incarnation, was less than auspicious, but since that time Daleth has behaved and overtipped and become accepted at the bar, which is a good thing. "Please?" and a plea it is through a slightly strained version of the Hunter's usual accent. The woman's nod is greeted by a gracious head bow before the antennaed being turns back to the Human at the table. "Close enough, and then there was a business emergency on a planet where it was midday and no one respected the fact that I should have been asleep instead of having to coordinate." Both legs are out in front of the executive, ankles crossed in a rare posture of relaxation. But the little antic with the napkin is still not missed, not even though if Daleth had eyelids, they'd be halfway closed by now. An antenna switches direction abruptly, from a rearward migration to forward, but that's the extent of it.

Shifting his body via his weight, Shintu turns around, holding a plate of waffles and a cup of jo. He spots Shadow and the Rodian and frowns a little. He sighs, yawning quietly and begins to walk towards the said table. Upon nearing, he curtly nods "May I sit with you all, if it is of course, okay"

Looking up at the approaching individual, then back down at the Rodian seated across from him, Shadow sits back in his chair and takes a sip from his hot chocolate, hiding a smile behind the mug. "Well, I have no objections, provided you keep your drink in your cup." His eyebrows raise as he looks at the Rodian seated across from him, and moves his right hand into his lap. During all the shuffling, the Commander's coat has dropped open. Shadow unconceals his M434 Blaster Pistol.

Daleth's all but oozing out of the chair and looks up sharply at the familiar voice, a move that is at odds with the posture. "Depends on whether you care to have another blaster shoved under your chin." There's still nothing in the Rodian's cup, which is likely affecting the being's usual inherent diplomacy. "But if you want to cram in with us, suit yourself." The Hunter's right arm is already dangling over the chair arm, it doesn't shift any further. An antenna turns barward, stops, pans in a narrow arc, and then the cup nearly folds in half vertically.

A smile beams across Shintus face which shifts into a big grin. "Well, yes, I mean come one guy. It was a accident before with the whole cup thing. And haven't ya ran a background by now?" He states with a hesitational chuckle "You'll see I'm nothing more then a commoner going into the marines. Calm down." He states, putting his food down and pulls up a chair. "Anyways, Names Shintu. Friend or foe, you pick."

Cocking his head slightly at his table, Shadow examines the beings he is now having his morning hot chocolate with. Seated across from him is the Rodian, crumpled cup in hand, but Emma is just now delivering a new one. On his right is the individual who so recently spilled coffee on his squadron mate and caused him to crush his muffin. He himself is still hiding a large grin behind his mug of hot chocolate, but now his shoulders are shaking as he attempts to hold in laughter. The Rodian is obviously not in the best of moods this morning, and the other human at the table with them has basically just called him out. It promises to be an interesting morning.

Daleth hasn't slept and you don't need to be Rodian to tell. Normally alert and active antennae are droopy and sluggish, usually reflective faceted eyes are slightly dull, the usual dapper business attire has given way to something comfortable and far more 'street'. And the caf the Rodian is drinking is heavily laced with whiskey and the drinker is too tired to have even stipulated label. And now the fellow that caused such a ruckus in the patio cafe in the business district seems bent on joining Daleth and Shadow at a small table and making offers he might or might not be able to back up. Dangling over the arm of the chair, Daleth's right hand flexes fingers. "I fail to understand why you are drawn to me, Human. If I am your so-called 'type', perhaps you should have a good, stiff drink and rethink your life." The freshly delivered cup if lifted left-handed and a healthy draught taken from it, proving the biological benefit of snouts allowing the owner to drink without taking eyes off others around the table. Shadow's also being watched, but there's edvery indication that most suspicious lie on the fellow designating himself Shintu this morning.

Shintu brow quirks "That was rather a poor comeback, my friend." He states with a chuckle, head shaking. his eyes shift around a bit before he begins to eat his food and drink some of the coffee. His eyes settle back on the Rodian "What is your name, per chance? And you look like fodder, too. Should look at gettin some sleep.."

Looking up at Asli as she touches his shoulder, he indicates the seat across from Shintu. "Please, Asli. You can watch these two while I head out on patrol. Let me know if it gets more interesting." He makes a meaningful gesture at the left side of his chest as he stands up and drains his cup. "Gentlemen, please excuse my abrupt departure, but I have a fighter waiting for me." Walking past the bar on his way out, the Corellian nods over his shoulder at the gathering while leaving the cup on the smooth counter-top. Araini nods back to him, and bids him farewell.

Asli quietly wishes Shadow "Good hunting," and her eyes flick over his new hair cut with a slight smile. It's almost like she prefers this new regulation cut. She sits down, places her bag under her chair, looks over the two remaining males and gives them a weak smile. The posturing, Daleth's obvious fatigue and Sinter's agitation outside are all making her wonder about the wisdom of joining this happy party. She takes the menu and studies it intently.

As Shadow brushes past, Daleth takes a good, long, obvious look at the Commander's sidearm which somehow ended up with his coat lodged behind it at some point while he was seated. When the Rodian turns back to the others left at the table, both antennae are a little more alert. It's either strong caf or strong liquor, both of which are being delivered in the same cup, which matches another crumpled beside it on the tabletop. "Good morning, Lieutenant. You look well today." The greeting comes with an inclined snout, as polite a gesture as the Rodian's managed yet. But the edge comes back as that faceted-eyed gaze continues. "Gimel Daleth. But had you not snuck off like a muzzled katarn the other day you would have been around to hear it. And it was not a comeback, friend. You chose to sit here over all the other seating in the establishment, and somehow you do not look to be Shadow's type." That said, more liquor-laced caf is imbibed by the irritable being, who pointedly looks away.

Another quirk of the brow "I see. Maybe cause your a friend?" He shakes his head, standing "Sorry people, I've gotta go" Shintu states and turns around to leave.

Asli looks up briefly and gives the Rodian and nice, neutral smile. Nothing too friendly, nothing to irritate him further. When a server comes over she orders a sandwich and a glass of juice. Wisely, she keeps herself out of the conversation until Shintu turns to leave. She pauses, searching for something innocuous that won't exacerbate the situation. "Thank you, Hunter," she says with and looks him over with, oddly enough, genuine concern. "Two out of three down."

"I had no intention of chasing Shadow off. I was hoping for a little conversation to go with my morning quaff, but it was not to be." Speaking of same, Daleth takes another swig from the cup. Glancing at the retreating back of the man who would be Marine, the Rodian turns an antennae outward, then looks back. "I suppose you will be leaving, as well?"

There are no unread postings on the Global Bulletin Board. Asli doesn't turn to watch the Human exit the cafe. She watches Daleth's antennae instead. The server brings her juice and sandwich. Asli just smiles politely and raises her eyebrows. Not now, it seems. "I can get another table if you want to be left alone," she remarks, not searching for reassurance that she's welcome but honestly wanting to know if the Rodian wants some time to himself.

"Please, do not." Daleth's usual vibrant green-blue skin is a touch gray at the end of the snout and particularly around the scarring on face and wrists. "If one more being gets up and leaves me I think I will shoot someone." That said, the next drink drains this cup, which is crumpled and tossed onto the table with its predecessor. The Rodian turns to see who's tending bar and if they're looking this way.

Asli is sat at a table across from Gimel. Two chairs are pushed out, indicating that others have recently vacated the table. She picks up her sandwich, takes a bite and chews. Swallows. "Ok, then." She leans forwards and peers at him. "Are... are you feeling alright?"

Emma's paying attention, notes the Rodian's look and, albeit with a raised eyebrow, moves to fix a third caf-and-whiskey for the overtipping sentient. Daleth goes back into the sprawl that has boots extended at leg length before being crossed at the ankles, shoulders slumped, and right arm dangling over the arm of the chair with fingers nearly brushing the floor. "Are you aware of my mistress, Tuzzi Reenoon?" Who watches the vids and isn't? The Merr-Sonn chief's unwed, very pregnant female companion has been a staple of gossipmongers in the CSA, a fill-in around other news districts, and has even gotten some attention in the CDU with holofootage of her spending Daleth's credits at an alarming rate shown often. "She was up all night. Which means I was, as well. Pregnancy does not agree with my little kulka flower, I fear, nor with my sleep schedule."

Asli nods slowly. So that's it. She takes a sip of her drink then bobs it in a small salutation. "Just wait until the baby's born. My sister had a child four months ago now and she hasn't had a full night's sleep since then. Her and Jorr aren't expecting to for another six months or so. Unless Rodians are different, of course." Asli purses her lips. "They don't rectify the situation with alcohol-laced stimcafs, though. They prefer catnaps."

A bracer is required, and so the Rodian waits for the third incarnation to hit the table before replying, though doesn't partake of it immediately, just wraps one set of sucker-tipped fingers (still the left hand) about the cup and holds it possessively. "Tuzzi and I keep separate housing. She will have a cadre of maids and droids and whatever else she will need to help with the baby, and I will sleep. But for now," and with that the first sip of the latest drink is taken, "I will sleep when I am able. That will not be today."

Asli blinks at him. She almost goggles, but she retains a little tact. "You... don't live together?" She seems to be having a little trouble fully comprehending the situation. She sets her glass down and frowns. "How can ..." she stops herself. "I see."

An antenna moves, forward, then stops and quivers. Too tired for tact, sipping whiskey-laced caf too early in the morning for liquor, and obviously sleep-deprived, the Rodian gives a little snort that gets whistly from that speech impediment up the snout. "We do not live together, we are not married. Does that offend you, Lieutenant?"

The door opens again, and a familiar black coated figure returns to the bar. Ariani takes one look at him, smiles, and shakes her head while pouring a new mug of hot chocolate and placing it on the bar. Shadow reaches or it, lifts it up, and sniffs it. Placing it back on the bar, he says, "Spice it up, please. Wrong day." Ariani laughs and pulls out a bottle of Corellian Rum, pouring a splash of it into the mug. Shadow leans against the bar, rubs his hand over his shorn hair again, and takes a large swallow of his drink, grimacing as his tounge is scalded by the liquid.

Asli shakes her head slowly. She pushes her plate with one finger, studying the sandwich, then looks up again at the Rodian. "No, it's just not what I'm accustomed to," she replies honestly and evenly. Her voice is soothing, but refrains from becoming patronising.

Daleth chuckles, low-toned and surprisingly soft for one who has been so blatantly obvious so far today. "It happens, however. And right now, marriage seems a non-viable option, though I care for her a great deal." A half-shrug as Daleth lowers the liquid level in the cup a bit more, and then a sound emits from the drink's internal destination and the Rodian's antennae both twitch in surprise. "I appear to have forgotten to eat for awhile."

Grumbling something into his cup about Rodians without a sense of humor, Shadow takes down some more of his drink, this time in a more careful sip. The man knows that Daleth must still be around, as there's no way Sinter would just be hanging around outside with no reason. Turning from the bar, he spots the Rodian right where the Commander left him, still chatting with his squadron mate. Nodding once to himself, he spins back to the bar and gets Ariani's attention. "3 berry muffins, please." Ignoring the surprised look on the Sarian bartender's face, he turns back to keep the two being in his peripheral vision.

Asli takes a bite of her sandwich and watches Gimel thoughtfully while she eats, adding this layer on to her image of the Rodian. She swallows, looking worried now. "Get something simple. Soup maybe. Soup and bread to soak up your drinks."

"If you are attempting to imply that I might be inebriated, I am not." Daleth drains the third cup and tosses it onto the table to join its fellows. "However, alcohol being a soporific, I believe that was my last for awhile. A sandwich might go down well, or sliders. Yes, sliders. Sinter..." Faceted eyes glance at the two empty seats. "Pquiit. Left him outside. He was being...difficult. I suppose I shall have to do this myself, then." Hands rise to chair arms and the Rodian launches up out of the seat a bit too fast, coming to a stop and swaying ever so slightly while looking down at Asli. "Which of us is moving?" It's the most polite thing Daleth's said today.

Cup balanced on the plate of muffins, Shadow catches the swaying Rodian by the arm and lowers the green being back into the chair. Having heard the last statement as he was walking over towards the table, he throws a wink at Asli as he places the plate of muffins in the center of the table and grabs his mug off of it. Dropping back into his previously vacated chair, he sips his drink while gesturing at the muffins on the table. Behind the mug is a wide smirk, and the mischevous twinkle in his eyes that has been missing for a few days since his most recent adventure is back.

Asli blinks at Daleth and sighs. She was hoping this wouln't happen. So she looks vastly relieved when Shadow reappears and plonks the Rodian back down. She reaches out for a muffin, accidentally on purpose sweeping one of Gimel's empty cups on to the floor and gestures for Ariani to replace it. A steely look at the other Sarian warns the barkeep not to add any alcohol this time. She picks up her sandwich but before she finishes it off she looks over at Shadow. "That was a short patrol, Shadow," she remarks innocently.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, to make the circle complete. Enter... *dun-DUN* the coworker. With Sinter outside and in a mood, a certain Quarren had more than sufficient warning that things were... interesting inside. Krel can only hope that nothing odd is going on, like Daleth half-naked and dancing on a table. ... Actually, the bodyguard likely would have stun-shotted and drug him off if it was that bad. Just the same it is with a certain amount of caution that entry is made, fairly glad he chose matte attire today. Less harsh on the eyes, for the most part. Anything to say? No, nothing to say, discounting mouth-tentacle semaphore that would make a Twi'lek blush.

An unauthorized touch on the shoulder and knowing that Sinter wouldn't dare have entered, Daleth draws the only logical, and completely incorrect, conclusion. By the time the Rodian's involuntarily seated again, the right hand has flicked, the little concealed apparatus clicked, and the hold-out raised to aim at... "Oh, hello, Commodore. Short patrol?" The blaster is re-aimed at the plate with muffins. "Does anyone want the bluefruit?" And then said weapon sweeps the table and its occupants while Daleth awaits a reply.

Raising an eyebrow at Daleth's sudden antics with a weapon and uncharacteristic verbal lapse, Shadow takes another sip of his mug with his left hand while dropping his right hand to his lap. "I think they're already warmed, Daleth. As are you, obviously." Spotting sudden motion at the bar, the Commander turns his head slightly towards Ariani and shakes it in the negative while keeping his eyes on the Rodian. "While I'm sure you have all the permits necessary to carry that weapon, might I suggest that pointing it at two CDU officers is not a good way to stay out of jail." He turns slightly towards Asli, still eyes-on the Rodian, and smirks. "I'm about a day off, Asli. I'm not due back at the 'Phoon till tomorrow."

Asli tenses as the Rodian waves the gun around. The skin under her eyes tightens and she draws herself up. Her eyes are on Gimel, wary. She's half-hoping he's going to pass out soon. She licks her lips but doesn't risk a glance at Shadow. "I heard that Human intelligence is linked to the length of their hair. Is... is that true?"

Well, isn't this an august assemblage to be joining? Krel recognizes Daleth right off, and of course recognizes the fact that he's waving about his Q-2 at folks at the table. Bounty hunters and excessive alcohol should not be mixed, thank you. The Quarren gives a little sigh and shakes his head, then going about making his way on over to the table. If nothing else, perhaps he can prevent something untowards from happening. Or maybe just give one more target, who knows! Anyway, it's all part of the service, really. Asli and Shadow are recognized, which has him hoping that Gimel doesn't do something stupid, like try proposing to one of them.

"I am not pointing it at the officers." Daleth makes this point by doing just that, starting with Asli and sweeping the muzzle over Shadow in turn. "I was indicating the muffins." And now, indeed, the plate is the target. Both antennae tilt forward sharply as the Rodian's voice changes to a low, vaguely echoing tone that surprisingly eradicates much of the whistling buzz from the heavily accented Basic. "You are coming with me, no choice and no questions!" And with that the Hunter's left hand snatches the bluefruit muffin from the plate triumphantly. "So!" The right arm jerks upright and points at the ceiling for an instant before the green-blue snout tracks it and looks intently at the sucker-fingered hand curled about the little weapon. "Oh. Sorry, Shadow." The arm and hand, suddenly apparently all but boneless, sort of collapse into Daleth's lap. "I can keep the muffin, right?"

Shaking his head and chuckling softly, Shadow holds out a hand. "How about I borrow that Q2 for a bit, and I'll have Ariani give it to Sinter, with my complements. He can give it back to you when you leave." Turning to Asli's question, he shrugs the left shoulder while keeping his left hand out. "That's one rumor, yes. But I'm Corellian, so it's kind of hard to measure our intelligence." He leaves the statement deliberatly vague, just to see what response he gets.

Asli continues to keep her eyes on Gimel, doesn't answer Shadow. "Gimel, give him the gun, or give me the gun if you don't trust him," she says soothingly. Suddenly, something beeps in her bag. Asli curses in Sarian and dives under the table.

Krel's almost to the table, if there's one thing he's perfected in his travels, it's the art of table-slalom. This way, that way... and what the hell? Okay, female diving under the table. THIS is really going to cause some stories to come by. "Is it not a little early to be tying one on? And if not, why are you all, with notable exception, still above the table?" It's an honest question, really. A brief look is given to Daleth, who might be the most willing to give HIM the gun, really, but we'll just see. Sauced? Possibly. Eh, it happens.

The bluefruit muffin is laid down with considerable care and then Asli's diving for cover and Daleth's raised the weapon again and is looking at it curiously. "I did not shoot. I am certain of it." Then, snouted head shaking back and forth in reinforcing negative, the Rodian beging to go through the act of reloading the little weapon into its sleeve rig, motor memory playing at least as large a part in the action as cognizance. "One muffin, captured alive. It is a good day for the Expert Hunter." A click as the catch closes. "Shadow, why is your pilot hiding under the table?"

Muffled scrabblings are heard. Then a harried voice. Asli's harried voice. "Uh, hello?" A tinny and indistinct voice is heard. "Yeah, yeah," says Asli, cutting it off. "Kishka, now isn't exactly a good time." Asli groans in reply to something. "Oh, he did, did he? Yeah, I'll come." She pokes her eyes above the tabletop. "I have to go!" She stage-whispers, climbs out from under the table, dusts off her knees, and makes a quick exit.

Taking a large bite of his own muffin as Asli makes a mad dash for the door, Shadow raises his eyebrows at the Rodian, and now Quarren, who are at the table with him. "I have no idea what she's up to, Daleth." Shadow takes a closer look at the Quarren, a familiar one to him from a holo he's reviewed recently, while taking another large bite of his muffin. Shrugging, he stands up and sketches a slight head-bow to both sentients. "I'm afraid I too must go, I have a lot of work to do on my ship. Gentlebeings, have a wonderful day." With that, the Commander stuffs the rest of his muffin into his face, (and almost chokes on it,) sips some chocolate to wash it down, and heads out. As he passes Ariani at the bar, he points to the muffins stashed behind her, then to the Quarren, then holds up one finger. She nods, places a muffin on a plate, and sends it with Emma over to the Quarren. "Complements of the Commander." she ways as she drops it off.

Look out, crazy pilot taking off from under the table. "I take it back. Things are odd enough here that I am willing to make you all honorary drunks," quips Krel, crossing his arms and looking briefly down at Daleth, then peering after Shadow as he goes. The muffin arrival makes the Quarren look over curiously, peering at it before reaching to take it. "Is this the official snack food of the CDU military? I meet a couple of them and suddenly they are showing up all the time." Bizarro day, and it's just STARTED. Now, how to get Daleth out of here... Hmm. "You know..." Krel starts in on Gimel. "I bet you can't beat your old score at the range while sauced."

"Before you say anything else, Tuzzi called four times because she could not sleep, Mach sent a false lead, and some pole-end of an equatorially-bound bantha forgot that this side of Caspar is the absolute opposite on the day/night circuit than Coronet on Corellia and called me at lunch. His lunch." Head shaking, Daleth picks up the hard-won bluefruit muffin and cradles it in both hands. "I probably can, but I am not sauced, Krel. Not at all." This said, the Rodian puts both feet under the now Asli-free table, crosses them at the ankles, cuddles the muffin close to the chest, allows the green-blue snout to slowly lower, and begins to snore.

Krel blinks, stares, and listens. And is still staring as a certain Rodian begins sleeping in the middle of the Sandbar. The Quarren puts a hand to his face briefly, shaking it the little that he can, then draws back. Daleth is left to his sleeping... for the thirty seconds or so that it takes him to go and get Sinter, anyway. He's fairly sure that being fast asleep in the middle of the place is sufficient justification for a little portaging. Will just wake him up and get him to transportation. Why get Sinter if he's going to wake the Rodian? Simple, in case shaking does NOT wake him. In which case he has dibs on ankles.