---

Cria Kiles sighed as he shifted his cloak onto his shoulders and jerked it straight. With a final glance in the smeared looking glass, he took a moment to admire himself. The man stood about five foot and ten inches, a respectable height on average. His blond hair and beard had become peppered by soft gray highlights, a sign he was getting along in years. A darkened complexion tanned his skin indicating work in the elements.

Satisfied with his modest looks, he frowned at the thought about his next task. Usually he avoided working with smugglers, but times were hard and desperate. The Exchange needed new smugglers to fill out its ranks. They chose him to test those possible recruits followed by paying them if they succeeded. About five hundred credits for the whole trip. With another heavy sigh, he pulled himself from his thoughts.

Cria's heavy steps exited his room within Wormstew's hotel, and he pulled out onto the dank ramp parts. Wormstew rested in the lower regions of Nar Shaddaa, where the waste and filth ran down to. His boot splashed into collected puddles of polluted water. Each time, the water drenched the bottom of his trousers until it began to seep through.

Dim lights illuminated through the smog as he drew closer to Derius Bar. It was a small building, what looked to be a warehouse turned into business. Already patrons had begun to flock there and spend their hard earnings on drinks and company. The crowd was perfect. Distracting and active, the chances of anyone noticing a business transaction were slim.

After a bit of squeezing through the bodies, Cria walked up to the bar counter. He leaned for the bartender to hear him as he made his order.

"Give me an Ale." He stated as he passed over a few credits. His figure hunched over the counter while he waited. He didn't expect all the interested Smugglers to arrive at the same time and approach him for the job, so he would be here a while.

The Zabrak strode into the dimly lit bar, a seedy place, not somewhere he would frequent, however, he had a contact to meet, not quite a friend, not quite an acquaintance, more a friend of a friend, if he hadn't insisted on this "place" Dak would have happily met him almost anywhere else. The reason it made so him uncomfortable was, though the atmosphere was intentionally designed to ease the tension in the air he, though not the most perceptive of types, could tell that if not for the discreetly placed guards, by design not discreet enough so that there was always a nagging buzz in the back of your mind that a blaster was being pointed in your direction, were the only thing stopping the bar being covered in grey matter.

So as he warily pulled up a barstool and with a glance to his side, he offhandedly said to the barmaid, "Nothing for the moment," which got him the evil eye from the server, and speedily corrected himself with a "Sorry a Whiskey should be fine!" He chanced another glance leftwards, no one yet. He settled down to enjoy his whiskey, evidently he would be a while.

A heavy, mirth filled chuckle escaped Cria's lips. His head turned and sized up the new arrival. Already the Zabrak reversed in his mistake, ordering a drink to pacify the woman. It was a good thing too. No successful business person enjoyed a warm body that wasn't a paying customer.

The Exchange representative brought his ale to his lips, half draining the mug. A nice buzz grew at the back of his skull, but not enough to hinder his work ability. Taking the back of his hand, he wiped his beard and lips clean. His blue eyes turned to the alien before he offered a generous piece of advice.

" Usually best to order a drink, no matter how long you're going to be here. Puts credit into their pocket."

Cria slid closer as he continued. "I'm glad you could make it. So, how much did they tell you about the job?"

The blond man expected Daklero to know very little or nothing, but he had been surprised before. He watched the Zabrak then glanced to the door occasionally, waiting for the smugglers to arrive.

As Daklero tried desperately to form a response in his head, he realized how vague the offer had originally been, though, he thought it might have something to do with a smuggler or two, he decided to reply with a simple "No, not enough." And with that, he looked down again back at his drink and waited for a response.