*The exhausted twi’lek woman trudged down the street, yawning. She’d been on her feet all night, first as a waitress at some no-name greasy spoon in the Corellian sector, then as a dancer on a pleasure barge. All she wanted to do was stretch out on her bed and sleep for twelve hours, but she had to be back to work in eight. A briefer rest would have to do.
An insistent beep from under an abandoned, stripped speeder gave her pause, lekku twitching. She crouched down, face breaking into a smile. Reaching under the metal heap, she pulled out the treasures: a half-crushed package of cigarras, a crumpled packet of matches, and a shiny new communication device. They looked as though they’d been dropped, or kicked; lost in some fight the night before, she supposed.
The woman pulled a cigarra from the pack and lit it appreciatively as she turned the comm in her hand, looking for the button to make it stop beeping. She had a friend who could strip the information and get it a new number. She’d been wanting one of these, but bills kept getting in the way. What a find. A slender finger prodded a button and a hologram flickered to life: fully armored bounty hunter, his voice tense beneath his helmet.*
“Ty’nea, where the kark are you? You’re an hour late. You’re never late! I know you, girl, you wouldn’t miss this for the world. The frell are you? Call me, I’m getting worried!”
*The woman shrugged, turning the comm over in her hand again and tracing the letters carved on the underside. T K. She wondered how easily they’d be to file off. Another drag of the cigarra came and went, and the woman dropped the comm into her bag, smiling, and turned down the alley to her small flat.
What a find, indeed.*