Working with the Imperials was a conflicting sentiment for Tzaar. On one hand, the Imperials had more credits in their coffers than any filthy hutt of wealthy merchant to ensure every paycheck they received was of suitable heft. On the other hand, they were a particularly controlling and entirely unwelcoming group of bureaucrats who would no doubt try to micromanage every movement their group did. He never liked that. Being confined to one employer or group. Indeed, the only reason he bound himself to Koren was because of a debt he had yet to repay. One he could no forsake, lest he lose his favor with the Scorekeeper. So he would simply need to tolerate this coalition and reap the rewards the Imperials were willing to toss their way. 

Revealing himself from the quarters he had immediately claimed for his own by dropping his rifle and axe upon one of the beds the massive lizard joined what appeared to be the rest of the crew in the main commons room. The sound of sleazy music assaulting his ear holes, the irritable lizard grumbled towards Koren as the strange little pink man wiggled about on the 'dance floor', drink in hand and human female wiggling around him in the strange fashion so many humanoids seemed to dance together. [b]"[Your choice of company is classy, as always.]"[/b] The green skinned brute remarked sarcastically towards Koren in his native tongue of Dosh. He decided to take seat within the general proximity of the Gungan, the chair creaking under his weight as he did so. He doubted interacting with any of the crew would do him much good for now, but perhaps one would have the courage to approach him. Until then, he'd simply enjoy the ride and avoid the beverages his 'comrades' were currently enjoying.