Jon walked up the ramp of the Carnival, leading the newbie behind him into the old freighter’s hold. The interior of the ship was his own custom design – upholstered seats with genuine gundark-hide leather, a fully stocked bar, laquered wood panneling, the works. Fruits of a lifetime of good deals and hard work.
“Take a seat anywhere, kid,” Jon said, tipping his hat to his new charge. Jon picked out a crystal decanter from the bar and poured two glasses. “You and me have a lot to discuss. Guess I should start with ‘welcome to the Brotherhood,’ but I’m more interested to know what made you desperate or crazy enough to join.”
Skar approaches him, looking around very unshure of what he is supposed to do, after all there is a lot of gaps in his memory. He sits in front of Jon, takes a sip out of the cup and leans forward on the table.
“Indeed we have, I can’t remember a lot to be honest, and when i force myself it feels like skull is about do burst. There are flashes of a fight, a explosion and I remember a figure dragging me but that’s about it. I figure that I owe you and the Brotherhood for saving my life and I have some skill in close quarters combat.. so I do probably fit in both categories, I guess.”
He takes another sip and looks around the room.
Jon raised an eyebrow. Ah. So not just a rookie, but a traumatized amnesiac rookie.
Mihoshi, you owe me so many drinks for taking this one on.
“I see,” Jon lied. “I’ll be honest; it’s not the most bizarre story I’ve heard. This place is like a galactic shower drain for the outcasts and misfits of the galaxy, so trust me when I say you’ll fit right in… somewhere. Probably.”
Jon reached under the table and pulled out a deck of cards. “Do you at least remember how to play sabaac?” Jon said, shuffling the cards.
Gambling was a good way to get to know a person. He also wasn’t above taking advantage of a brain-damaged rookie for easy credits.