He drummed his fingers on the table, bored. Desperately bored. One of the, well, many things he hated was waiting. Waiting, soup, sand, cold, idiots, children and poorly made speeders. It was the very last that brought him to be drumming his fingers on a restaurant table at noon in the unforgiving heat of Tatooine. Did he mention he hated sand? He couldn’t remember if it had made his list, but it definitely needed to. He tried to pick some out of his finger nails, succeeding only in introducing more.

“You Matthias?”

Matthias, what a funny joke, he wondered how long he’d have to keep it up. “Yeah, I be he.”

The man who had just so rudely interrupted Matthias’ contemplation was average height, unassuming build and smelly. His black hair was shoulder length and greasier than most speeder engines, his face was dirty and he generally smelled of self pleasure and cheap cigarettes.

“Hey man, I’m so sorry about that one, you know I got it from my cousin and he said it was good, but I didn’t know at first, and he convinced me. . .”

“Oh get to the point. You stink, I’m sober and I currently don’t have a set of repulsors.”

He furrowed his brow, he’d clearly come up with a story he was very proud of and wasn’t very happy at the time he wasted doing so, “Well, man, I feel bad, man, but I did some looking around and I found ya a great deal on an Incom.”

“Yeah, I bet it’s stolen, I just want my money back.”

“Hey man, you bought it, as is, thems the breaks.”

“Yeah, right,” Matthias pulled the shotgun out of it’s holster and set it on the table, the words ‘Thunder God’ machined in the barrel caught the light magnificently, “Fool me once, my friend, shame on you. . .”

“Look, I haven’t got the money” At the sight of the gun he’d gone rigid, his eyes widened, a reflex, his mind would be shutting down, he must have had a bad experience, “But I can get it! I can get it! Just give me three days!”

The little worm could skip planet in three days, then again, Snipes knew his type, he wasn’t likely to give up the life, or semblance of one, that he had, “You have two. In two days, right here, same time. Don’t be late this time, the Thunder God gets pissy when you’re late.”

“Y-yes, sure, anything you say.”

“Damn right,” Matthias said, standing up and holstering his shotgun.

He turned his back then and left, he was stuck on foot for the time, and in the star forsaken sun too. He hated this planet even more now. The temptation to just take his ship and land it on buildings he wished to visit was almost unbearable, but he had to play nice, Tatooine was only a way point, no need to cause a mess until he’d gotten where he was going.

He shuffled his weary way towards the closest cantina, it wasn’t even dark yet and he was exhausted and sweaty. He needed a drink. He walked in through the door, looked around, shrugged and continued towards the bar. It wasn’t much of a cantina, big definitely, but not interesting, nothing hung on the walls, the myriad of creatures that occupied it didn’t even look at him when he entered, the kind of place one kept to themselves. Snipes could deal with that, he didn’t want to mingle, he just wanted a god damn drink.

So there he sat, at the bar, hunched over, wishing he could ignore the world, guzzling down Corellian ale as fast as they could feed it to him.