Mos-Eisley-Cantina

“Whew. What a dump. This the place, Sarge?”

“The coordinates check out.”

“Man, you’d think shops around here would have signs or something. All this stucco and adobe brick messes with my depth perception. Not that the helmet helps at all.”

“Heh. At least there aren’t any sliding doors for you to smoke your head on.”

“Come on, Sarge, that was one time!”

“Just shut up and let me do the talking, Private. You there!”

“Huh? Who, me?”

“Yes you, citizen. Are you the proprietor?”

“Oh no, officers. Nothing like that with me. I just run the place.”

“All right then. Local color aside, I’ll kindly ask you to identify yourself.”

“Uhh…”

“Just tell us your name, citizen.”

“Oh, Wuher. But most folks ’round here just call me Bartender.”

“You’re the Mr. Wuher who contacted us?”

“Not so loud! Sheesh! I don’t finger people to feds, understand? Bad for business, you follow me?”

“We’ll try and keep this brief, Mr. Wuher. We were notified of a disturbance in this vicinity in the last half hour. Care to elaborate?”

“Oh no thanks, officers. I already went to the can on my break.”

“Lovely. There were reports of a fight. Just tell us about the fight you witnessed.”

“Oh, right. So these farmers showed up during the lunch rush. Never seen ’em in here before. There was an old bearded fella and his teenage daughter. Ugliest blonde I ever seen. Probably tryin’ to smuggle her off-planet. Lotta smugglers hang around here, you know. I could point you in the right direction for a small fee.”

“That won’t be necessary. Our reports said they had a droid with them as well.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! Dumb yokels tried bringin’ it in here. We don’t serve there kind here, you see.”

“What model was it?”

“Didn’t get a good look. But I kicked that bucket-of-bolts out as soon as the detector went off.”

“Was it short and blue?”

“Naw. It’s kinda like a panel, you know? It’s in the entrance if you want to take a look.”

“Not the droid detector, you idiot! The droid! Was it a blue R2 astromech?”

“Oh. Uhh… nope. Can’t say it was, officers. But don’t you wanna hear about the fight? One of my regulars lost his arm. That arm paid regularly too. Catch my drift?”

“Here’s a few credits. Keep an eye open, Mr. Wuher. Looks like another dead end, Private. The Empire is hardly interested in backwater bar skirmishes. Oh well, looks like we’re off duty. Can we get a table for two?”

“Sure, officers. There’s a free booth behind those folks sitting with the Wookie over there. Tammy will be right over with some menus.”

ΒΆ Mos Eisley Cantina at RedBubble