Raulo Cruz returned to his quarters on Freeport 9 with additional tequila. Since joining the Mandalorians he'd had plenty of time to drink, and plenty of money to buy drink with. His liver was quite sure he'd had enough. But it did not get a say in the matter.
The young woman who answered the door smiled warmly, and took the Tequila from his hand.
"I cannot get this in Bretonia. I'm glad you could find more."
Raulo laughed, and answered, "I never met a Bretonian woman who can stomach the stuff!"
Never mind one with legs like yours, he thought.
The woman laughed, and poured the drinks for them both, and she handed Raulo his drink with a vivacious smile.
A man in a dark uniform with an insignia few would recognise waited impatiently in the hanger deck. Footsteps could be heard coming towards the two fighters he was keeping an eye on.
The same long legs strode towards him. She wore a similar dark uniform with the same insignia.
"Is it done?", he asked.
"Yes, Gra.", she answered tersely.
He grunted, "Back to Crete then." He began to mount his fighter.