Mos Eisley

Metis nodded to Ghaz, acknowledging her task and that it would be taken care of. Raising a brow as one of the guards showed it's true nature as an IG unit. Once the time for the meeting to break up, she would lead Kian Ti from the room. Once back in the main part of the club, she'd signal one of the Cabal members in charge of running the club. The boss says to take care of this fine lady and her crew. Top shelf. And make sure their ship has a tune up and refuel. She'd then turn to Kian, Anything else I can do for you? Still interested in that massage?

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*A little while later.*

Moving off the dance floor to get a drink, Metis noticed a new face at the bar. A new long face. Grimicing at the sight of a frown in her favorite place, she slid over and took a seat next to him. She flashed a winning smile to Crex, a good friend of hers, Put him on my tab, Crex. Oh, and get me a refill please, handsome. She turned her attention then to the brown haired stranger. And what's got you lookin' so down?

Draven watched as Crex came over, asking him what he'd like. He had taken the time to glance over the menu, though, it was for nothing more than to appear interested. After a second that seemed like a debate, he finally gave his answer, his rough, low voice more of a drone, signifying his desire to drink away his thoughts.

"I'll take a glass of the strongesr thing you have."

Before the Besalisk could even step away to fix his drink, the upbeat and sweet voice drifted between the as a Twi'lek sat down beside him. His barely shifted as his eyes loojed her way. Someone deciding to pay for his drink? Some would say he was pretty lucky to suddenly have a beauty like her sliding next to him and offering such. But he didn't think so.

Letting off a faint scoff, he let his eyes fix themselves forward once more.

"The real question would be what isn't wrong. That and why it would even matter to you."

Draven couldn't help but scoff a bit at Metris as the drinks arrived.

"A bit of a spunky one, aren't you?"

Taking hold of his drink, he knocked it back taking deep gulps and finishing half of it in a single go. Setting it down, he gaveva sigh.

"Alright, if you really want to know the list. I currently have no home to return to, no family or friends worth contacting, I left with only the barren dustball of a world to reside on out of sight from everyone, and constant nightmares that haunt my sleep and waking hours. How does that sound to you, princess?"

Lifting his glass again, he let his gaze get lost in the liquid as he thought back on those days. The training, the raids, the capture and abandonment, and the ceaseless torture. Even the brightest of thoughts from those days were greatly overshadowed by everything else.

Shaking the thoughts away, he finished off his drink before motioning for Crex to pour him another.

As Metis began talking, Draven took another swig of his newly refilled drink. He had hoped to push her off with his sacastic comment or the going on of such a terrible life. Instead, she was now leaned over towards him, eyes alight with intrigue.

His head turned towards her and just hung there as his eyes stayed locked on hers, amusement completely devoid in his stare. After a few moments he gave a sigh and shook his head, his attention turning back to the glass in front of him. He lifted it to take another drink but stopped.

"You really want to know, huh? You must really be bored or crazy. But whatever."

He took a quick sip before spinning the glass around in his hand.

"It certainly wasn't pirates. I was born into that life. A nice little happy family. We were good at what we did. But we wanted to take from those who possessed more valuable goods. Most cases, that circled aroubd the rich. But other times, it was Jedi and Sith. So, we trained a groupnof warriors to be capable of facing down the likes of a Force-user. I was one of them. And with that, our takes only grew. But so did the targets on our backs. Eventually, we went after a big haul from a Sith transport. Turned out to be a trap. We were good, but not good enough to take on such a large group. Some of my family died. Others fled. I was abandoned in our retreat. The only life that matters is your own, right? The Sith took me and worked their mind games on me, doing whatever they could to make talk and disclose the location of our base and their artifacts. At that point, I had no love for that 'family' of mine, but I wasn't gping to let the Sith break me either. For years I was their play thing. Physical torture, mental torture, you name it. I wager that before long, they stopped caring about their stuff and got off on the domination of power. That's a Sith for you, after all. Eventually, they all disappeared and I escaped. So yeah, hiding here where I figure I'm safe from them should they seek me out. Though they never leave. All that time is locked in my mind in endless nightmares."

Draven barely turned his head as Metis moved closer and spoke into his ear. Not even a beat was missed as he continued to sip away on his drink in large gulps. All he had wanted was to come here and just disappear from the sight of others and lose himself in his love for the drink. And yet, not even ten minutes after landing, this girl was attempting to get him involved with something.

When she finally finished speaking, he only gave a sigh with a drop of his head.

"Listen, kid. All I want to do is enjoy my drink and be left alone. Why don't you find someone else to throw offers to."

He didn't even turn to look at her at that moment as he finished off another glass. In the span of a few moments, he had taken down three glasses and could already feel the effects of the alcohol. Which didn't help when he suddenly heard someone come up behind him.

"Hey, who do you think you are, coming in here and hogging Metis like this. You certainly don't deserve the pleasure of her company.

Draven sat straight for a minute before halfway turning to look at the group of three that had assembled. Coherency could already be seen fading from his eyes as he started to lean a bit out of his chair. The faintest of scoffs escaped his throat as he motioned towards the Twi'lek.

"By all means. Have at her. Save me the trouble of getting rid of her."

He then turned back around when he heard the questioning grunt that came from the man and felt him grow closer behind him.

"What? You saying she ain't good enough for you? You got some nerve." Draven didn't even seem to register the words, angering the man further. "Hey! I'm talking to you."

The man moved to grab Draven's shoulder. But the moment his hand touched down on his shirt, everything seemed to suddenly shift. Draven slipped out of his chair to his left, turning in a quick manner as his left hand came up and slipped behind the man's neck and shoved him down into the bar and his empty glass, causing it to break into his face. Stumbling a bit, he looked at the other two.

They looked back and forth, wondering about what to do. He took down their friend with ease, but he still looked as if he was under the influence of the alcohol. After a wave from Draven, the two rushed him. At that moment, his drunkness seemed to fade as he tilted his head to the side to dodge a punch. Draven's fist came up to punch the second man in the throat before arching over to hit his first assailant in the side of the neck. The first guy stumbled to the side as Draven stepped up to the second and grabbed his hand, spinning him into a flip to the floor. Regaining himself, the first guy attacked again only to meet a foot to the face from a spin kick, putting him on the ground.

Stumbling a bit, he looked at the three guys who were just barely stirring or scrambling in pain. He couldn't explain the feeling, but as unwanted as the fight was, it did provide a thrill. He then looked up to Metis.

"You know what? Count me in."

Draven followed Metis into the private lounge, hands in his pocket as his body leaned forward, his face carried a slightly irritated expression. He may have agreed, but there still existed that desire to be left alone. It just happened to be the adrenaline and thrill of the fight overshadowed any of his previous feelings.

Not concerned about any glances that were cast his way, he disappeared behind the door as it closed behind him. When she asked his name, he stood straight before leaning back against the wall.

"Draven Heart."

Draven looked over to the masked man as the lights came on, seemingly unphased by the sudden appearance. He was never one to care for men who hid behind masks. It was this reason his eyes focused upon Ghaz a bit before blinking, his body starting to lean a bit due to the effects of the alcohol. Straightening himself, he took a deep breath.

"When you are expected to fight Sith, one needs to be capable of pushing passed things that can inhibit the mind. Makes some of their tricks useless in battle. Besides, compared to a real warrior, drunk patrons are easy enough to deal with, even while drunk."

As he was offered a seat, Draven moved over to it, though his eyes never once left the man.

"A proposal? What makes you think I'm looking for work, especially to get off this planet? After all, I came here."

He might have agreed to the prospect of doing a job, but it didn't mean he was going to just accept it without question. He might have been drunk, but he wasn't stupid.