Song of The Wanderer

Chapter 1 Pov: Reader

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She approached the building, sand puffing up Everytime she laid down a foot, clouding up in the air, then drifting for a moment before coming to a rest on the ground. Her eyes were on the automatic sealing
Door of the cantina, pocketing her blaster, she stepped onto the pressure plate, and the door unsealed. She took a step in, taking in the her surroundings with a quick, sweeping glance. The chairs were wooden, old but sturdy, the bar itself mostly in good condition, cracks, and dents in the surface the only tell tale sights of violence in the past, holotables off to one corner, and a small succession of table booths off to the other. A small crowd clustered around one of the Dejarik players, openly bidding on the possible winners, a scattering of a few individuals, and a odd couple of buisness men or gamblers, or both, here and there. No one bothered looking up from their occupations but the bartender when she entered, she did a quick check around her, before she strode over to the bar. "Have any paying jobs?" He, a rodian nodded his head, pushing a few datapads towards her. "We have a few tasks of questionable origin that need completion. If your interested let me know." He replied in a mellow voice, and returned to his work, or so it seemed. She noticed him watching her closely out of the corners of his eyes. She scrolled through one of the datapads, focusing on the barren list of details, and trying to gather as much information as she could, with limited insight. She put down one of the pads, and pointing towards it, asked, "That one, what's the story behind it?" The rodian cleared his throat, and put down the rag he had been using to polish glasses. "It's a search and retrieval, any information of the whereabouts of said target will be offered a copious reward. It's a stolen shuttle, rumor is there is something worth stealing on it, we don't know. **BUT** what **I** know, is that it offers a good pay, and you need a job. And between you and I, i lose contact with everyone who goes on this particular task usually within the first few days. Longest standing time was a week." She cocked her head, puzzled. "Do you have any fobs?" He shook his head. "No. But the last place it was seen was in the outer regions. It's a T-16, class 1 hyper drive, no known machinery modifications." She slid it back towards her, placing the rest on the bar, "This should be more then what I require, I thank you for you hospitality. Before I take leave, I would like a large Caspian white, for travel." He grabbed a liquer, and within a few seconds, brought her a standard drop-sized mug, she accepted it, and laid down credits, a small amount extra, for the mug. She took her drink, and stowed away the datacard in a pouch around her shoulder. She spun on her heel, and walked silently back to the door, stepping on the pressure plate, and out through the hatch.