I got pinched. This mynock got me by my lekku and hauled me to this shady little Hutt run cantina on Hutta. (Aren’t they all shady and Hutt run there?) Now, mind you, I was passing off this load of glitterstim as ryll. I knew it wouldn’t hold up with any knowledgeable buyer, but that’s part of the grift. The con. You find the peedunkys and move the frotzin’ bolshit. Anyways, the entire situation had gone bad and wasn’t what I’d call one of my best moments but everyone screws up sometimes. By getting caught, I lost it all. My ship was sold out from under me (it was a piece of shit anyways), my freedom was offered up to the highes— why lie? The lowest bidder. This is how I got introduced to the life of slavery in a gilded cage. I say gilded because in all honesty, it wasn’t too bad. Shake my ass, gasbag with the customers. The servicing spacers and mynocks wasn’t that grand, but everything has a trade off. All I had to do was keep my lekku straight, I couldn’t even do that. Not when I met him at least. He’s how I got into trouble. Again.
He had come into the cantina, not to watch the dancers – I’m sure that was a perk – he was running a con. I know a fellow grifter when I see one. His game was simple and frotzin’ brill. Huttball, the game was taking place but he wasn’t registering the bets he was taking. He took thirty bets and paid out for five. The folks in the cantina caught on pretty quick, sure. By the time they did, however, he was out the door and he had me with him.
Shancolo Marsol. That’s his name and it was the name tossed into the pool of mynocks right alongside mine. After a few years together, and a few marital vows, I’ve learned a thing or two about Shan. He can’t run a con for shit. He can find the best cheap cargo loads for us to make into something worth turning around, however. And he might just make the best plant in a crowd. Or pimp… or announcer, sometimes he even plays the victim.
That’s the trick with us grifters. We have roles to play, it ain’t like everyone else in the Galaxy. No one likes a con artist, not unless they’re turning profit for them. We’re usually on our own and the black is a big place for a couple of folks like us.
Ain’t that long ago, while Shan and I came across this barve who said he might have a crew we’d fit into. Shan doesn’t believe it. He’s been on his own a lot longer than I have with this shit though. I’m willing to listen, I’m willing to talk. Sooner or later the mynocks will catch up to us or worse. And when that day comes, it’ll be good for someone to have our backs. Or, in the surprising circumstance, for us to have someone’s back.
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