Spaceports will get you the usual assortment of clients walking through the front door.
Engineers, technicians, pilots and the odd tourist looking like fish fresh out of water. But wander around some more, walk through the dingy alleyways and you'll often find a lovely little place that never used to exist. You could say it's a little bit magical, but in a galaxy full of mysteries and secrets, should it really surprise you?
Flashing neon-pink lights, enticing all lonely hearts and wandering souls into its premises, D0R0THY beckons. Looking like a stack of industrial grade cargo boxes welded together in a one-night-stand, one might ponder on its clarity of purpose: was it really a bar as advertised, or a ramshackle trap shack out for your hard earned (or otherwise) credits?
The bar was oddly devoid of conversation, despite the presence of a drunk male Zabrak kissing the rims of his glass. Behind the counter, Kaz's hands worked on a similar glass, wiping it down over and over with a clean cloth- as clean as it could be, for something so used. It was a slow night-cycle on the Imperial space station.
Usually he had a few more Imperial soldiers off duty but still leashed by their commanders, swapping stories and drinking to lost comrades. On rare occasions he'd find an officer (out of their uniform, obviously) by his lonesome, ordering the same drink and staring daggers at the wall. Kaz didn't judge, it wasn't in his place to do so. Still, there was usually a pattern to how things worked around here, and if profits weren't satisfactory he might have to relocate again.
He sighed, looking over at the booths by the corner currently occupied by a couple that was more interesting in the taste of each other's lips than the drinks they had purchased. Two to three steps away, and a lonely woman sat by table shooting angrier and angrier glances at the duo. Her many bottles of alcohol carried an air of dangerous liberty, and he wondered if he needed to get her to leave soon.
He shrugged to himself and continued wiping the glass in his hand. Eventually the male Zabrak pays his tab and stumbles out, nearly breaking the door in the process.
"See you soon." Tennith said quietly, picking up the dirty glass and running it under a cold water tap.
Running a one-man bar for over 5 years has been a somewhat pleasant experience for the man. He couldn't complain, as he proceeded to dry down the glass. He told himself that he'd quit his old life, and that's what he's been doing for five long, pleasant years.
The doors swung open, and he looked up to greet the newcomer.
"Welcome to the Lover's Stop, also known as Dorothy. What's your poison?"