Annoyed beep; the sand gets in his nooks and crannies - not in a way that could damage him, but it's aggravating, and his filters are getting a bit clogged. And he thinks the dumb organic doesn't know where he's going.

"None of us know where we're going," Qui-Gon says.  "But I know exactly what I'm looking for."

Great. (The beep is very sarcastically tinged). R2D2 is very sure they won't get lost, then.

"I'm glad you're coming around."  His deadpan is flawless.

Uh-huh. (Still... R2D2 sounds a bit amused. Just a bit.) Does the organic know which way to turn now?

"My organic's intuition is pointing me in that direction."  He nods toward a little mechanic's shop.

Looks dingy. But their display is well maintained. Acceptable.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval."  In they go.

The shop is full of minor mechanical knick-knacks - nothing expensive is out in the open, though. There's a worn down woman - old before her time - manning the counter. She looks subtly exhausted. Something about her is -

Odd, in the Force.

She looks up at the entering man and droid and smiles thinly. "Honored customers. What can my master do for you today?"

...he doesn't like the implications of the word "master", not on an outer-rim planet this far from the Jedi order.  He knew there was a reason he had a bad feeling about this place.

Gently: "It's an honor to meet you.  May I ask if you're working the counter alone today, or is the shop's proprietor present?"

"My master is out at the moment, though he will be back shortly."

"I see.  I... can conclude my business quickly, if you would prefer that."

"That depends on what your business is, sir."

Gesturing toward R2: "My friend and I need to purchase several pats to repair a J-type 327 Nubian starship.  Can you help us with that?"

She considers them for a moment. "We have parts for that, though they can get expensive."

"We can pay in Republic credits, if they're accepted here."

"They aren't, at least not in a local shop like this one."

He fiddles with his goatee, pensively.  "We're not carrying any other currencies... are there alternative means of payment that this shop's owner would accept?"  He's not sure he's gonna care for any of them, but he can at least ask.

She frowns, a bit. "The main ones... Trade in kind, if you have parts of greater worth you're not using. Bartering trade goods. Gambling - my owner enjoys betting on races, as do many of those with means around here. You could gamble for local currency or any parts directly."

"We don't have many goods we'd care to part with... gambling could be promising.  But I would have to consult with my shipmates in any case."

She nods, a little. "I wish you fortune, then."

He inclines his head in return.  "You've been very helpful today.  Thank you."

She nods, slowly, clearly considering him. "You're welcome, sir."

She waits until they leave to return to what she'd been doing before.

He departs.

To R2: "Think it's worth looking around for a shop that'll accept credits?"

Beep.

(He doesn't like this place. He doesn't like the word 'master' or the weary look in that organic's eyes. He doesn't like the Hutts, not at all. But looking around might be faster than trying to find something to gamble on, and their mission needs speed.)