"Well."  He let the word hang out in the air, standing between the bar and his favorite booth.  The place had been around for hundreds of years, if the owners were to be believed.  The old owners, anyway.  Muz shook off the thought, walking toward the booth.  It was still the same, but the veneer had cast an odd feel to the place.  The old Sadow tapestries, earned in old vendettas and alleged to have mystical properties that never quite surfaced, were gone.  Simple designs on boldly colored fabric hung in their place, brightening the room almost as much as the new light fixtures. 

He rounded the pillar, black eyes settling on his booth.  It was literally his booth, his symbol carved into it years ago, an arrangement between the owner and himself and many bottles of Kyataran wine.  He had agreed to reserve the booth in perpetuity for him.

And someone else was sitting in it.  

Muz stopped dead, his mind almost unable to process this strangeness.  Sure, the occasional patron would have accidentally parked himself in the secluded booth once in a while, and he had even heard of a journeyman taking his most recent conquest here before the staff would politely, but firmly remind them of what they were doing wrong.  But that all happened out of his sight, long gone before he arrived, as infrequently as it had been lately.  He narrowed his eyes, the Chiss setting down the mug of grog and glowering at him.  

Muz stepped forward, leaning over to put his hands down on the table in front of the Chiss, black eyes meeting the blood red.  

"Can I help you?"  The Chiss said, a curl forming at the side of his lip.  "You seem lost."

Muz shifted his gaze, eyes lighting upon the heraldric symbol, his own Lion carved out of the wood.  Then he let his eyes slide back to the Chiss.

"You probably should move, before he moves you." Her voice was low, almost dusky.  She slipped around his side, the long black and violet jacket swirling with the movement.  "He won't ask, so I am."

"And why would I move?" the Chiss smiled, his hand fallking from the table to his thigh, no doubt closing around the butt of his blaster.  Ashia smiled, looking back at her husband, then at the Chiss.  

"I warned you." 

It sounded like distant thunder, a deep bass that rambled through the room as the Chiss suddenly twisted, his head spinning, then flopping off to the side like a puppet with its strings cut.  

The electronic whine of blasters engaging echoed throughout the room as the body slid down the soft leather, collapsing with a wet slap to the floor below the table.  Ashia turned around, letting her gaze scan the room before she sat down in the booth, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly on the table after pushing the mug of grog away.

Muz stood up, straightening his back and turning as he gestured two fingers at the waitress, a Togruta with a clear look of horror on her face.   She hurried off, rushing through the crowd. 

"You ain't welcome here."  He was a beefy one, scars crossing a flat face, a chunk missing out of his left ear.  He chuckled.  "Not really welcome much of anywhere."  

"And why is that?"  Muz turned, counting the number of Collective patches he could see across the room.  

"We all had enough of the Brotherhood and their bantha fodder.  Get yourself and your schutta out of here."  He drew his blaster, a heavy repeater, levelling at Muz with a sneer.

Muz faced the man, a fire behind his eyes.  "What did you call her?"

"I said get yourself and your schutta out of here..." He raised the weapon.  "What are you going to do about it?"

Muz smiled. "Nothing.  But it gave her a chance to get behind you."

The razor scream of an igniting lightsaber burned behind him, her hand on his shoulder pulling him down as she lacerated his spine with the white blade.  She spun, rage played across her lips as she flipped her other saber into her hand, the violet spilling out in menace.  Muz's hands reached out, his hilts flying from his belt, igniting midair as they found his hands, the passive look on his face replaced by equal parts anger and amusement.  Ashia laughed as the Force erupted from her husband, slamming the newly crippled man to the ceiling, then to the ground violently.

"Consider this a change of management."