[IC] Gemeris Station [Everyone]

[DM Vitkyng]

Perception: [1d20+8] = 5+8 = 13  ((I don't have the campaign ID, so please trust me when I say that this is what I rolled))

Korstyn leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over her Beskar'gam.  She generally wasn't a talker, so she lets this bureaucratic di'kut prattle on for entirely too long before finally getting down to brass tacks.  She holds a hand up and is about to speak when an even more minor functionary interrupts the negotiations, earning the target of her narrowed eyes.  The fiery-haired Mandalorian had a bit of a temper, and more than a few blasters at her disposal if something kept her from a score.

Getting to the contact would require a ship, which she did not have...yet.  Korstyn is a Mandalorian.  Resourceful, clever, and brutally efficient at whatever she needed to do.

"This had better not stop you from giving me that contract."

You were unable to overhear any of what the aide said to him, but you did notice his eyes go wide a bit.

"Yes, of course we shall continue this discussion. It seems you may have some assistance. Perhaps."

He gathers his datapad and excuses himself, hurrying past you out of the room, leaving you to wander as you will. Where would you go, this station was small, mostly just hangars and living quarters and little else, what passed for a cantina was a converted storeroom with a few tables and the owners still in one corner. There was no market to speak of, this was no market stopover but a converted communications relay being used as a base by this small rebel group. The vessel you jad arrived on had limped in, barely in one piece, and then was promptly torn apart for anyuthing salvageable for materials to keep the few rebel ships functioning.