Greef Kraga was an opportunist, but an honest one.

Navarro although on a trade route of the main planets' same namesake is one of the few stops before the end of the Outer Rim Territories and the beginning of the "Wilds of space". It was a piss poor hold for more than any resident would like to admit. Its decline caused by the Imperial occupation like many planets during its "Fair, Just and Righteous" reign became a pathetic cluster of homes, tiny bizarre and freighted citizens. The only reason this sad town didn't die is also this region's Bounty Hunter's Guild base is within its only cantina, keeping the planet's meager economy going.

The magistrate during the occupation was a sliver tongue opportunist, usually, he would nod to such a man, but the misery surrounding them was too kriffin' ugly to ignore. By the Maker, he will make this little town into his vision of a Trading City instead of a mere post for the members of various species and droid models the chosen complicated profession. His years of building the 'Guild' in this region of space were simple, keeping it and maintaining the rosters to a civil tone was the difficult part.

It seemed he needed to just let Mando blow everything to hell, start from scratch with loyal BHG members and make sure the reputation of kicking the remnants of Imperial forces with a Moff off-planet is widely known. Bringing in more entrepreneurial-minded investors, traders, drop a few credits here and there for better infrastructure, and let more opportunities start coming in.

Letting it be known only a few months ago the last foothold of Imperial soldiers, was expertly dispatched with a Rebel ex-shock trooper as the lead. Now Navarro is being considered for membership with the New Republic.

So what if the timeline was fudged just a bit.

Mythrol, sighs in the background, "Uh, boss you have to sign off on this is over my ATP threshold.

Absent-mindedly Greef looks at the new TSP requisition form. In the backroom of the Navarro Cantina the group of gamblers

Sighing he signs off the charge, "Damn Twi'lek baths."

The room is smokey from both the incenses of the bathhouse, the steam of the baths, and the clove cigarettes in some patron's mouths Sabacc cards lye forgotten on the table.

"Aw, come on Fennec, tinhead is going to flip."

"Deals a deal Dune now strip."

A ping catches Din's attention as he and others review the star map looking for clues of hidden clans and coverts. The message passes protocol, thinking it is an incoming message from one of the scouts an unfamiliar image slowly takes shape in the middle of the halo projector. No words are spoken as the thump of drums fills the air adding to the noisy hum of the clanking of metal and conversations. The mood of the room changes as the audience takes note of what appears on the main holovid.

The outline of a statuesque woman comes into focus, the upper part of her face covered by an elaborate beaded eyeless mask. Gathered in a high ponytail hair her hair flows to the very edge of her shoulder blades. The tiny halter top scarcely contains her ample breasts, the sheer quarter sleeves barely hide the toned muscle and ink of her arms. The hem of the top stops just underneath her breasts baring the beautiful artwork of blooming thorny Alderaanian roses trailing down, dipping enticingly beneath the hanging beaded hemline to the opposite undulating hip.

The tempo of the drums increase in response her hips dip then rotates, stomach muscles ripple into a wave, ample breasts rise and fall in full control, opening her arms they move into opposing the circular motion. The beads flick with each rotation and sway. Daintily her fingers curl in a come-hither motion her mouth opens just enough to entice. Pivoting she turns ever so slightly; a hip rise causing the balloon pants to split further exposing her bare hip to ankle and the edge of more body art. A wanton cry accompanies the drums as the dancer seductively turns, rising to her toes, rotating her shoulders and hips in opposite directions. Her muscles ripple as the path of the tattoo causes the eye to trace from just below the low riding pants hemline up the side, across the hip line, up the spine to the edge of the right shoulder. Her body sways and shimmies, moving with the haunting beat of the drum and lone voice. Becoming the embodiment of primal need, turning her head she smirks mockingly.

Twisting and turning her body begs to be captured, alluringly she teases and infuriates fanning the audience's most basic urge then flitters across the stage. Bending at the waist, dipping low her hair falls forward then rising the silky locks fall haphazardly, stray hair lands on her lips. Rolling her shoulders, her breasts rise and fall as her body answers the call of the drums gracefully, she bends to her knees thrusting forward arms wide.

Bending forward her hands flatten on the stage lewdly stretching into a full split riding the rhythm of the drums. Tipping her head up, her lips spread and her tongue flicks the air. Din heard someone gasp as she rolls to her feet gyrating, peaking to the audience her hands flutter across the top of her breasts and shoulders. The rhythm of the drums moves to the climax. Instead of moving to a dizzying pace, she lifts her leg, toes pointing down, her body moves in a smooth rolling motion. The material of her pants hangs off further with each roll until it seems to hang by just will exposing the supple skin beneath, her head tilts back as if crying out. After a few beats, the same leg straightens, sliding into a side split, bending her head to her knee hands turned up in supplication.

The screen goes black.

The room is silent, Din sighs, "Woves did you get the transmission?" Axe Woves, sitting to the right of Bo-Katan Kryze, blinks, shifts as he looks to his datapad. Swallowing, Woves chokes off a cough, he nods with a dry whisper, confirming the flowing encrypted data, 'E', then coughs again, respond in a stronger voice, 'Elek'.

Fett snickers as Reeves hands him a hand full of credits. "I told you Dune would get the data to us. She got hidden talents."

Koska tilts her head as she looks at Fett with narrow eyes then shifts over to Djarin assessing the leader of all clans, "It's good to be the king."

Din slouches as the lustful murmurs begin to rise, hidden beneath his visor his eyes roll at the loud praise of strong thighs. "I'm gonna kill her."

Fett snickers, "A little death didn't hurt anyone" a moment later ducks to the left, avoiding an incoming spear.

Don't mind this bit of madness...I'm officially joining this shipping..and I'm feelin' snarky.