He's sitting at the table closest to the bar, alone, his back to the wall, staring at his drink, trying to will the glass into refiling spontaineous when he hears the voice. If that voice were a font it would be one of those ones with massive looping tails and fancy decretive birds spurting out of the sides, and not just because he could barely understand what she was saying, her accent was so thick. He taps at the translator that's wedged in his ear as if this will stop the angry static that has occcured at the women who has just entered's accent, it's an old model of translator, it has trouble with certain words and heavy accents tend to upset it, but it's cheaper than the more accurate option of a live translator and he'd always picked the horse by the price-tag.

He ended up just ripping the thing out of his ear and dropping it by his near empty glass before looking back up at the woman speaking Common with such a heavy Routani accent. There were a lot of things about the woman, as well as her fancy accent, that grabbed attention. One of these was the fact she was wearing a floaty silk dress better suited to a black tie gala than this dingy god forsaken one horse rock of a moon, another was the fact she was a cyborg. Even if her identification card hadn't been clearly on show, as was the law, it was obvious as unlike most other cyborgs she seemed to have taken no effort to hide her robotic features. The hydraulics of her left leg peaking out from under the grey silk as well as one of her eyes being solid maroon while the other natural one was a rippled lavender. If she were a full blood natural he would have probably called her attractive but he was never to sure what to make of cys whether they counted as human or were classed as machines so he withholds judgement on that count. She's finished speaking with the bar tender when she slips a wad of cash, held by a silver money clip,across the bar. This perks his interest, finally something interesting happens on this rock, sitting up a little straighter he watches both of them closely. The guy disappears, not literally he just slips into the back office awful quick, while the cyborg types a quick message into a pocket communicator. He gets up from his table to walk towards the bar or more precisely towards the woman as he is severely lacking in funds at present( as well as past and most certainly future) so won't be buying another drink. While he walks he glaces around to see if he were the only patron to see the exchange, the late shift hasn't come back yet and the early shift has already been and left, it's only visitors to the moon in at this hour and there's never been many of them.

"What's your story then?" he slides up behind her almost silently, she doesn't flinch to her credit, but then maybe she has sensors that told her he was there, she turns gracefully without the metal on show she would have looked almost movie star like. She's shorter than he first thought, if he had been feeling particularly condescending he could have rested his elbow on the top of her head.

"Excuse me?" She said a single brow raised

"A pretty young cyborg like yourself, in a fancy evening frock, speaking with a Routani accent comes into this shithole. There's enough of a story behind that by itself. But you love, just passed over enough to buy every drop of the true in this place three times over and you don't look like your settling in for a bender"

She smiles at this comment, her robotic eye clicking as she looks him over, most probably for weapons. Even if he could summon up the energy to be affronted he wouldn't, with all the violence recently a little paranoia is healthy and he has just seen something he wasn't meant to and then mentioned it.

" I'm only looking for a story, love" he tries for charming but it comes out more like a smirk than anything else.

"Two things slick." she replies her maroon eye flashing white" don't call me love and..." she grabs his arm so hard it's painful, he wonders whether it too is a robotic enhancement

"Duck!"

The outer wall explodes inwards showering glass and cheap plaster over them. Shes still got his arm in a death grip and is half dragging him to the back of the three walls that was up until now a bar. Their headed towards the back door, but he knows from past experiences that it's chained up tighter than... Something tight. He goes to tell her this but she's already hoisted up the fancy dress and used that hydraulic leg, that stretches all the way up past her knee, to kick the door so hard that the deadbolt hangs uselessly off the door frame after being separated from the door that is now in splinters. Her death grip has not loosened as she pulls him out of the shell and around the side of the bar, it's then that he notices the cause of the explosion. At least three dozen troops and four of the Farida's elite war machines are stationed in front of the hole that was once a hole in a much more figurative way. The women just tuts as if the whole thing is just a mild inconvenience to her, like missing a shuttle or realising that you put on one black sock and one very, very dark blue one, he stares at her, he's met behemoths that could be reduced to kittens by the merest mention of the Faridan armed forces. Her eye clicked again.

"I don't suppose you have a ship?" she turned to him again "only I hadn't planned for this and my posse, as it were, won't be here soon enough"

He has a ship, or at least he did, whether they have impounded and moved it from where he had left it was still to be seen.

"I've got a tub alright, might be out in the laws lot by now but..."

He doesn't have time to finish the sentence. She's already punched him across the face and is making a run for it along the backs of the row of shops and residentials between there and the sheriffs office. He's going to chase after her but a group of soldiers holding rifles have come into the alley, he briefly toys with the idea of making a run for it but dismisses it, there's too many of them and not enough space. The Uma- natives to the planet Faridia-demand a certain level of accuracy in their soldiers aim. They shout something at him, which is when he realises that he left his translator on the table when he went to speak to the women, this thought leaves his head quickly however under the much more serious realisation that he's just been shot in the chest by an energy rifle