Ugh.

He lifted his head to try to figure out what had stirred it. Too bright already.

What the hell time *was* it anyway?

Nevermind.

Ah. A bottle was rattling on the floor. He must have knocked it down from the table he passed out on.

Where was he again?

Oh yeah, frigging Lotaith.

Post-Imperial, post-New Republic. Not quite forgotten, but definitely left to rot on its own.

He got up, cleaned himself up a bit, chewed on some aspirin and drank water. Enough of the rotgut whiskey he had picked up last night.

He was groundside to try to work out some equipment deals for Imperial Center. Having a factory satellite at the ass end of the galaxy was fine and all, but sometimes you just needed parts made in gravity, near a freaking ore mine and processing facility.

The Lotari weren't into shooting Imperials much anymore, if that is what he still was. Even the local graffiti was pretty evenly distributed. Even most of the burnt out buildings had been painted over and the battle-ruined vehicles had been removed. Life moved on.

He grabbed some breakfast at an outdoor cafe he used to frequent back when the neighboring buildings were all High Council chambers and support offices.

Then he went for a stroll to where he thought the building trades district was, enjoying taking in a planet he'd not seen for awhile.

It was warm out. Direct sunlight wasn't a thing you dealt with much on a starship or a man-made space station. It was uncomfortable.

He lurched into an alley to get rid of breakfast and what felt like a half gallon of Antakarian Fire Dancers he'd managed to consume last night.

Revenge of the fifth indeed.

OOC:

No plan for any additional story. Just felt like posting.

Ron scratched at his beard a little and stood with his arms crossed awkwardly at the register in one of many pawnshops on Lotaith while the middle-aged, pot-bellied Ithorian broker inspected an outdated and slightly worn Imperial Age datapad. Ron kept one eye on the data pad and the shopkeeper, and with his other eye he watched out the window.

"Do you know how many of these data pads we get each month?" The Ithorian said tiredly.

"I don't work here." Ron said dryly. "So, no. I don't."

"Too many." the alien said. Ron couldn't understand Ithorese, but there was a translation screen on the desk which allowed the clerk to interact with his customers where there was a language barrier.

"Yeah, well none like this one." said Ron.

"No, all like this one." he said simply. "Ever since the depression every decommissioned Vast Empire officer has been coming in here with all sorts of old office supplies. I can't give more than a dozen credits for it, its basically worthless what with the latest Corellian stuff that is in use everywhere in the Core."

"It's not the datapad that I'm selling, it's what's on it that is worth it." Said Ron, quietly.

The Ithorian seemed nonplussed. "I don't get customers looking to buy data, I get customers looking to buy datapads. We wipe everything we sell."

"Well you ever thought about not wiping everything you sell?" Asked Ron.

"No." He said. "That's black market, we don't do black market here. We run a very clean operation. Now if that's everything, I will offer 24 credits and nothing more for the datapad."

Ron walked up to the Ithorian and swiped the datapad out of his hands. "Fine. But you're missing out on a big opportunity here."

He walked outside the shop and the door hissed shut behind him. Even though the door wasn't sentient, the coldness of the interaction in the shop seemed to extend to the insentient computer.

"Jerk." Ron sighed. There was nothing on the datapad. But it was a nice datapad all the same, even if it had a little wear on it. They bought these at a few hundred credits per pack just a few years ago.

As he stood there in the daylight, he thought he saw someone he recognized. Never personally, but from old officer's briefings and parade exercises. Forgetting about his lack of credits for a second, he put the datapad away and into his pocket, and followed after the ghost of a memory that he thought he saw turn a corner in the street...