Bankor

The world of simple chow disclosed itself to the Mad Dog Vizsla as he was splurging it from the ladle to the bowl. Yet there was no complaint or indignation, just seasoned indifference.

Delmi sat nearby working at a slower pace than the larger man. She saw him in her peripheral vision across the table. She took a sip of her water and straightened her spine to press against the back of her chair.

By happenstance or not, the large man moved with his tray to where the woman was sitting. Lookin at her with mild curiosity, he kicked lightly at the chair opposite to her. "Free?"

For a change, he was carrying simple fatigues rather than his armour, though a rolled-up sleeve revealed a Vizsla shriek hawk tattooed onto his bicep.

She nodded her head once.

He dropped on it and put the tray before him.

"Fill your boots." Mando bon appetit idiom lost much in translation to Basic.

“Uhmm... you too?” She said with a wavering voice.

“Where are ya... from?”

"Born on Taris, childhood on Nar Shaddaa, later on any world war would have taken me to. The who question would tell you more." He mused between slurps. "You?"

“Lots of places. Nar Shaddaa most recently. Name is Delmi.”

"Oddyn. You can call me Odd." He said, looking up to register some details of her face that would ensure future recognisability. "Looks like the Smuggler's Moon looms in many lives." He said neutrally, without any melancholia.

"Yup... a virtual black hole for a lot of folks out there in my sphere. Always pulls ya back in." She replied.

"Always? So you're on a leave from seediness while here?" He chuckled as he was getting used to the taste of the meal.

She bobbed her head up and down somewhat indecisively, "Yeah... kind of I guess. I owe a couple folks tied to the campaign a debt of honor or something like that... Here to help until I get the feeling I'm not needed anymore. Then back off into the deepness of space... What about yourself? You don't look to be a Republic soldier."

He nodded in understanding for personal reasons to be part of it. Those were better in his mind that some contrived dedication to an entity like Republic. "Because I am not. I am here because of a personal reason, it so happens that the Republic pays me for shooting in the direction I'd shoot anyway."

"Some issue with the mandos?" She asked.

"You could say that." He chuckled ironically. "I am one."

“Oh yeah? I heard there were some of y’all around. How does that work out?”

"For most Mando'ade on the Republic side, like the Kelborn, the Ordo or the Cadera, they stand for what the Kryze don't, so it's about proving moral and political superiority. But I am not one of those. I'm a Vizsla."

"Then... why are you here?" She asked with curiosity.

"Personal reasons. If I were driven by political ones, I'd likely be on the other side of this." He honestly admitted.

"Oh yeah? Well... hope you get what you're after then. Personal quests can be tricky."

"They sure can. And mine are. People make strange calls all the time though, so I don't feel special." He chuckled.

“So... you wanna kill someone on the other side or something?”

He took some chow on the spork to chow before replying. "Yeah. The old man."

"Umm?" She asked. "Got a problem with senior citizens? Your old man?"

"I meant Varo Kryze." He rolled his eyes.