The tan, blonde haired woman tied up in the back seat of the speeder was having a bad day.  She had known that no piloting contract that took her to Tatooine was worth it, but she had chosen getting to eat and have a place to sleep every day over the logical choice of relatively safe homelessness.  Something would have come along eventually if she was patient, and this was her reward for being greedy.  After riding for days in a slow transport on a rough seat and with crap food, she stumbled into the cantina nearest the spaceport and let her guard down for a few hours, and that had been a bit too long to let her guard down.  Why shouldn't she let her guard down, after all?  Her manner implied a woman who bathed only when necessary, which was enough to keep all but the most amorous at bay.  Her fists and stun blaster usually did the trick for those who insisted that they could 'look past her exterior'...<br/><br/>When some two bit pistol jockey got lucky in IDing her, however, and put a live blaster to her belly, her advantages were gone.  She had flipped the table and knocked over some people's drinks, but starting a bar fight wasn't quite enough to let her get away.<br/><br/>She would never, ever admit that she slipped on vomit not far from the entrance and ended up caught that way.<br/><br/>Naturally, she retreated to one old stand by that had worked when she practically lived on the streets: blustering in hopes that this woman would take the bait.<br/><br/>"Hey nerf herder!" she called to the front of the speeder, working at her bonds, "you ever think of a different line of work?  Corellian table dancers make more money than half of these bounties have to be worth, and they don't have to hold up innocent pilots for school lunch credits on one of the worst planets in the galaxy.  Get me to a ship, and I can fly you anywhere."<br/><br/>Worse come to worst, she'd get beat up a little bit for her cheek.  But maybe that would give her an opening to escape?