He twitches again, but nods in agreement. 

"I will speak to my people, but will indeed be cautious, as you suggest." He turns to Moza, who nods and goes to the nearby desk to bring up communications. 

"I thank you for your assistance in these matters, Shaaraa, Ryeen," Chodo Habat tells them, "And will eagerly await your return." 

- she stops herself from bowing her head, and just nods and turns to leave.

And Atton follows her out. 

"Hungry?" He asks her, once they're out in the corridor once more. 

"Nope. Let's go to a bar. I haven't had a drink in months."

He stretches out his back, "Got me there. There's gotta be one around here somewhere, right?" 

Oh. She walks over to the dedicated map terminal in the middle of the corridor! Much better than her shonky datapad.

"Booze?"

Atton snorts, and he pokes around a bit, eventually finding the nearest cantina in Entertainment Module 081.

"Sound good to you?" He asks, poking around some more, "It's just through 82 West through there," he motions to the door they're standing next to.

"Seedy enough. Maybe they'll have one of those fruity cocktails you were dreaming about the other night."

Huff, "Well, they taste better. Never live it down in a place like this though..." 

He turns to lead the way through the doors to the west side of the module. 

They pass the Czerka Offices on their way there. 

She pays them no mind, greasy fucks.

He behaves similarly. 

They arrive to Entertainment 081 shortly, and then pass through the halls to the cantina entrance. 

This is definitely a seedier area than the parts of the station they've seen before. More lawless, as well; the security forces must not patrol here as consistently as in other areas. 

A fact which is made all the more apparent when, just outside the cantina doors, they walk into a tense situation between a sullustan and some humans decked out in combat gear. 

"Please," says the sullustan, "I don't want any trouble. It was an accident, I swear!" 

She should really just keep walking. They don't need further attention and they have a job to do and she really doesn't want to get into a fight —

Sharra sighs and pulls Atton in front of her, eyes wide and frantically looking between the sullustan and humans. Oh no! Look at how concerned and visible she is!

"That didn't look like an accident to me or my associate here," says one of the humans, "It looked like you wanted to make a fool of him."

"No, no," the sullustan holds up his hands, eyes darting around, "That wasn't the way it was. I did not mean to disturb your drinking, allow me to leave you and go on my way. I will trouble you no longer."

His eyes catch on the two bystanders, and then dart away again.

"Not even an apology?" the human tsks, "That won't do at all." 

Atton sighs, wry, before speaking up in her place.

"Alright, what's going on here," he interjects into the tension, making sure to stand so Sharra - and her large, frightened eyes - is just visible past him.

The three half-turn towards them, the sullustan relieved, while the humans are annoyed.

"This sullustan here had a few things to say about us that we didn't take to so well. We're just trying to work out our differences."

Frightened little gasp! Big eyes!

"He's sorry! I know he is, I - I - maybe, maybe he just doesn't understand? My sister says sullustese is really different." ...she moves behind Atton a little more, stunned at her own daring.

He rolls his eyes, "Then the only way he's going to learn is through a bit of good old physical reinforcement, isn't that right Mol," he tilts his head towards his friend.

Mol cracks his knuckles and advances a step toward the sullustan.

"Move along, strangers," says not-Mol, "Just move right along. Have a drink in the cantina."

"No, no, this is madness," cries the sullustan, "Please, help me! I know what these brutes want - to send me home with my limbs broken, body battered and spirit bruised! Please!" 

...Atton doesn't have to ask Sharra for what she wants here; just approaching these three was enough explanation for that. 

"Can't imagine what kinda unforgivable crime he's committed to deserve a beating like that," he comments, readying himself to move. 

"He threw a drink all over Mol, for no damned reason!" He gestures to his friend, drawing attention to the sticky, drying liquid coating the breastplate of his armour, "I can't just let that go, not without an apology for my associate." 

She's on the verge of tears!

"He'll apologise! I'm sure it was an accident, but even then he'll apologise and- no violence please! Hadn't there been enough violence and death??"

"To apologize would be dishonest," says the sullustan, apparently firm on this despite his fear, "I did not throw my drink at him; they barrelled into me at the bar and caused me to spill my drink over both of us."

Indeed, the sullustan also wears drink stains on his clothes. 

"You see," the unnamed human says, "Not only does he refuse to apologize, he's lying!" 

Atton huffs a breath of air through his nose; the sullustan isn't lying, but the human sure is. Their excitement is practically oozing out of them. It kind of reminds him of some officers he worked with, once upon a time. 

"Think I believe the guy with the drink all over his clothes," he says, unimpressed, "Seems to me that you two should let bygones be bygones and move on with your nights."