The lighting in here is dim, and most of the booths are shrouded in shadow. Conversations are low, hard to hear from a distance. There are a few spacers sitting at the bar, but they are mostly interested in their drinks and look disinclined to casual conversation.

Hmmmm. He suspects this place might liven up a bit later in the day, but he doesn't really want to wait that long mysteriously sitting in the corner...

"I," he says to Ana, "am going to go make some friends."

"D'you want help with that, or should I grab a table?"

"Either's fine. Do you want to help me make some friends?"

"Let's not come on too strong. Don't want to seem desparate. I'll be over there, if you need me."

"Mhm. Oh, and - when I make up fabulous lies, please agree with them. Do you have a preference for how I explain my relation to you to people?"

"Not really."

"All right then." Pause. "I now declare us husband and wife."

...

"Okay." She leans over to peck Revan on the cheek. "Have fun making friends, sweetie."

"Of course, dearest!" he says, brightly.

And then: off to make some friends.

Ana goes off to get a table, thankful that the low light is hiding the dopey smile she can't keep off her face.

It doesn't appear anyone has noticed their little by-play.

Good, he wants to be silly, but not so silly as to jeopardize anything.

Friends! He has a sense for people that look like they want to talk but aren't, is there an obvious one present?

There's an interesting-looking fellow over at one end of the bar, staring into his drink.

Well Revan will go say hi.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, could you recommend me a drink? Never been here before."

The man grunts in surprise. "Whad- whaddayou wan'?" he slurs.

By the smell of his breath, he's more than a few cups deep.

Ah-huh. Right.

"Drink recommendation, conversation. I can leave, if you'd rather."

"Why'd you wanna talk ta me for? I'm no good to anyone."

"No good to anyone? I don't believe that." Revan sits next to him. "See, how you're good for conversation. Bet I'll find more things, if I talk to you more."

"Only 'f y'don't wind up dead, like me partner." He heaves a sob, then grabs his glass and raises it up. "T' Jinx! Best damn copilot a man could ask for!" He tilts his head back and drains the glass. This takes a few seconds, it is not a small glass, and was still three-quarters full. He slams it back down, and motions to the bartender for another.

"My sincerest condolences," agrees Revan, with a solemn bow of his head. Behind the actual sincerity is the part of his brain that perks up at the word 'copilot.' Hello, something that could give him an in, how are you today?

"May I ask what happened?"

"Th' damned Empire is what happened!" He is just barely not drunk enough to shout this. "Exectuted him f'r smugglin' spice! Ain't never smuggled no spice!"

"Hey, hey, I believe you. Was it some kind of mix-up, maybe some Sith politics...?"

"I'll tell you what it is. 'M cursed, is what it is. First it was Nance got shot, back on Ord Mantell. Then Yuda got in deep wi' the Hutts and got hisself offed. And now Jinx. Sweet, beautiful Jinx." He breaks down and starts crying into his drink.