There was the chime of bells, and the<em>creak</em>of the door's batwings being pushed open- Followed by the<em>click</em>of glossy, heeled boots, dulled ever-so-slightly by the dust that clung to *everything* on this planet. The bar was as lively- To put it mildly- as it ever was, though the newcomer *did* draw a few decidedly *appreciative* gazes...<br/><br/>Iella Sinclaire, lately of the Red Wings of Iodine, most recently of no squadron worth mentioning, crossed to the bar with a smooth, rolling stride, her lovely maintained- If a<em>little</em>threadbare uniform molding oh-so-sleekly to the gorgeous redhead's form; Given the sheer diversity of alien species in the wide, wonderful galaxy, it's odd to see how *often* Terran-bond derivatives turn up...And how popular they tend to be, species gap or no species gap. Slim fingers brushed stray strands of red hair back from her face, violet eyes ever-so-slightly glazed~<br/><br/>She'd been drinking, on-and-off, the *only* decent way to pass time on this planet, though the citrus alcohol shots this bar served was...fiery, to say the least. Sometimes, the only cure for a hangover was the hair of the dog that bit you...Iella slid into a convenient stool, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the counter, crossing her long, lissome legs with a dull<em>scrape</em>of black stockings- Gesturing wordlessly for a drink!<br/><br/>The redhead leaned back, the chair swaying beneath her, and closed her eyes for a moment, a long, *deep* sigh parting her full lips~ Well, this *was* a quandry. She was an excellent pilot, but without a<em>ship</em>...It didn't *look* like she'd be getting off the planet anytime soon, and it wasn't like she could<em>pay</em>for passage out, even on a tramp freighter! The brass handle of her blaster jabbed into her ribs as she shifted her weight, a cool breeze tugging at the pink hem of her microskirt- One of the few things she'd taken with her, in her journey into exile! Just as well, too- It looked like a rough crowd, tonight~