Walking Holocron

Tooka Lovers:

The Hole gets its name from the gaping chasm it's built around, the byproduct of some long-forgotten industrial disaster, now buried deep beneath Nar Shaddaa's upper levels. It's an effective way of disposing of drunk and disorderly patrons — and card cheaters — and as a (younger) kid, Vhea used to have nightmares about ending up like them.

The cantina is scummy, like everything below the surface because the Hutts don't care much for maintaining anything beneath the glimmering veneer of the entertainment district and Grakkus' palacial complex. The floor is sticky beneath her ratty boots, the air heavy with stale ale and sweat and spice as Vhea slips between the crush of dirty bodies to where the sabbac tables are crammed together near the back wall.

She can see Dino's horns where he's slouched over his latest hand, the red skin of his face furrowed in concentration. She recognises most of the alien faces around his table, regulars at the cantina or from their slice of the refugee district, but there's a new human sat on the other side who draws her attention like a canary moth to a flame.

Even sitting down, he's tall; with dark skin and darker eyes that flick to her as she approaches. His ears are studded with gold cuffs, matching the ones around the long, wrapped black locs of his hair that clink softly whenever he moves. There's gold on his face, too, pierced through his eyebrow and both his nostrils; there's even a glimpse of gold from his back two teeth when he grins, gleaming from between soft pink gums.

He's handsome, in an eclectic way that makes her stare. He isn't dressed like he's from Nar Shaddaa, in worn bronzed armour harnessed over soft linen and leather. Practical but not built for acid rain and chemical smog. Too clean, too pale for all the dirt.

 She can't stop looking at him, and he notices.

"Who's your little friend?" He asks Dino, nodding at Vhea, and she turns her head away, like she hasn't been staring at him for the last half-round.

"My lucky charm." Dino says, awkwardly patting the top of her scruffy hair. It's about as much physical affection as she ever gets and it always leaves her feeling uncomfortable. Itching as much as the lice crawling over her scalp.

She settles in at his side, slouching with a bored expression on her face. Dino usually plays the first two rounds without her assistance, in an attempt to deflect any suspicion. Their system is simple: she shifts to the left if he should bet, and to the right if he should fold. Easy enough to disguise as boredom, which Vhea doesn't have to fake.

She uses the dead time to watch the stranger. He's flashy. Attention-grabbing. There's a flourish to how he moves, like he's putting on a performance. His eyes keep flicking back to her and every time she looks away with awkward heat growing in her cheeks.

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He has a thing with pointing at people 😹

His face 🤪

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