<strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Ailet Styrcharn </span></strong><br/><strong>Location: Nova Nebula Cantina, Mos Ke Yhra Spaceport, ~150km from the Taltos homestead, Emant. </strong><br/><strong>Tagged: Savaelli </strong><br/><hr/><br/>Ailet made his way into the cantina clad in a set of grey, slightly too large overalls which served to cover the concealed blaster and disguise him as a common labourer rather than an Imperial operative. His eyes scanned the place for anyone who looked out of place. There were signs when one was trying to ‘look casual’ in an unfamiliar place, a certain stiffness or overly relaxed appearance that came from forcing the body against the natural tension one gets when trying to avoid detection. He sought two targets. The first was the helpful Savaelli Taltos, at first Ailet had been wary of working with the daughter of a wealthy family. He’d seen bored socialites turn their hand to rebellion, and then just as quickly turn to the Empire when people started dying or when their ‘hobby’ came to light and they needed a swift exit. But Savaelli seemed to be legitimately interested in freeing her planet at the very least, and her links the Rebellion were a useful asset if she did turn on him later… Ailet frowned inwardly and pushed those paranoid thoughts aside.<br/><br/>The second target were any Imperial agents lurking around. Ailet was taking a significant risk in meeting his contact here, he needed to keep himself free of suspicion if he was to maximise his opportunities to harm and hinder the Empire out here… the dark thoughts roiled in his mind once more and the cold fact that his contacts were in far more danger than he was floated to the surface, for as easy as it was for them to turn on him it would be a simple matter to spin it as an ill-thought out attempt to play double agent and gather information for the Empire. That those were the thoughts that bubbled to the surface would trouble Ailet later, when he had the luxury of introspection and self-loathing.<br/><br/>Ailet approached the bar and ordered a cheap drink, the smell indicating it traded palatability for potency. The wrinkled skin of his face hid the slight flicker of disgust at the caustic odour of his drink, he then moved to the table and casually took a seat opposite Savelli. He placed his drink down in front him and slipped a small jammer under it, concealing the small device beneath his glass before he greeted the woman with “What do you know of this message from the being calling himself Melvin?”.<br/>