<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/55/83/d8/5583d8287dc20d30cf2e8c3b4d048177.jpg)</div>For a long, somewhat drunken moment, the Mirilian looked at each of the seated group in turn, then broke into raucous laughter. "How the fark you think I got here in the<strong>first</strong>place, flyboy?  Spores?" That tickled her enough it took her a moment to calm down.<br/><br/>"All right, all right. You got to ask, I hear you." Resting a knee on top of the table she  leaned in towards the guy who seemed to be in charge. "OK. Last hop was Druckenwell to...wherever the frell this dump is. Hard to tell the difference, you ask me. My choice in employers was almost as bad as their business sense, so we all got stuck here.  Last I heard, the owners'd shipped out as hold crew on some Nerf hauler or somethin'. Before that, two long-hauls as security for a private trader on the Rimma run. Did one gig for the Hutts out around Kessel- never again. They don't pay on time, they got no sense of humor, an' they smell bad. Spent a little time in the Homeworld Scout Corps, but they decided I got trouble with authority. Again, no sense of humor."<br/><br/>Calmly plopping herself in the lap of the burly guy who looked like more muscle, she grinned. "So. Satisfied?  Or you want me to shoot another stack of bottles for you, or somethin'? Looks like we're outa Houks."