Guardians of Light

A Smugglers Life

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The Cantina on Coruscant chosen by Lexa's crew was a somewhat neutral establishment, with its mixed clientele of multiple species and strict no fighting rules that were met with a lifetime ban, enough to make anyone think twice about starting any trouble. 

As a city surface cantina, it was a vast improvement from the dim and threatening cantinas of the underworld, though its location in what was perceived to be the outskirts of the city, away from the central hubbub of important citizens, allowed for a more relaxed atmosphere in which the clientele could release their less civilised side without any upstanding members of society looking on with disdain. 

Even as Clarke subtly surveyed the room over the rim of her glass, she could spy the more deplorable individuals residing in the far booths, engaging in quiet conversation presumably involving one transaction or another. Sly gazes were cast around the room on occasion, ensuring that their business remained private though they needn't have worried, the other clientele were far more interested in the tense podracing being aired on the opposite side of the room to pay any attention to their secretive behaviour. 

The bartender appeared to have no issue with their presence, as long as they remained civil then they were more than welcome to remain and continue buying rounds of the more expensive, top shelf alcohol.  

Clarke was content enough with the jawa juice contained in her glass that she had been slowly sipping since they had arrived. The rest of the crew were on at least the third drink by now, but she shared no such desire to drink herself under a table that night. 

Rakal and Toril at that moment were cheering raucously at the holoscreen displaying the live podracing as their favoured rider continued to climb the leader board to claim second place. The game was not yet over however, though the two crewmembers were becoming more certain of their victory with each passing minute. 

'I raise you to 100 credits!' Toril proclaimed, his words met with a cheer by the surrounding aliens who were more than happy to raise the stakes on their bet. 

To the centre of the room, Bekk, Sharr, and Cal were lounging at the bar, waiting on their drinks to be served. Clarke had already paid for their first round as promised, it was the least she could do after all they had done to help her. 

Clarke watched the goings on with light amusement. It was quite the contrasting presentation of their characters from the serious, sombre crew members that she had witnessed on the ship.

As celebrations went, this was a light hearted and informal way of bidding Rakal, the loyal Nautolan, an honorary farewell after his years spent in the crew. He had a family waiting on his home planet Glee Anselm and it was time that he returned to them, proud and aware of the difference his actions had made across the galaxy.

Clarke had at first been confused about the functioning of the group and how their activity intertwined with the Republic and, even after multiple explanations, now only had a vague idea of their operation. 

It seemed that the crew were not working exclusively under any Jedi or Republic forces, that they, in their own right, were almost something of a volunteer group. It wasn't as impressive when put like that, but the crew worked of their own choice under Lexa's command, who in turn aided any missions of the Republic that she deemed high priority. 

Given her sketchy past with both the Republic and Jedi, it was no surprise that she choose to operative in this way, free to make decisions at her own discretion. There were few who opposed this from higher powers as the group had proven to be an invaluable help on many occasions.