| Mara_Antares | Date: Tuesday, 19 August 14, 6:14 PM | Message # 1 |
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| Mara Antares often wondered exactly what the name The Crimson Bantha meant. As far as bars went, it was okay. Clean enough, sure, but the clientele were lacking. The clientele were always lacking. But, that's what Mara got from The Crimson Bantha; crappy tips, rude customers, handsy (and sometimes tentacle-y) drunks, and shifts that felt like they were never going to end.
As she wiped down her section of tables for the four hundred and eleventh time that night, Mara contemplated the name of the bar. Was the bantha bloody? Or dyed crimson? Or maybe it was born that way. Or likely, the drunk douchebag who owned it, came up with the name in a random stupor, and she should waste no more time thinking of it. So she didn't. She checked the clunky black and silver chrono that was fastened around her wrist. 2:34am. Last call was at 2:30. The Crimson Bantha closed at 3, and reopened bright and early at 9 am, for the early drinkers. After all, sentients came from all planets and it was 5 o'clock somewhere.
Mara sighed and dropped down into a seat at one of the empty tables in her mostly deserted section, only to hear a resounding groan from beneath the table. "Watch it, will ya?" The voice garbled as Mara leaned over to peer at the drunk patron laying under the table.
"Parker!" Mara hollered, rather delicate-ish for a holler, "I've got a gentleman over here who needs some help finding the door and a cab!" She informed him before she moved past and let the Bothan bouncer do his job. They called him Parker, of course, because it was as close to his real name that they could get, and she could pronounce. "I'm heading home...he was the last of my customers anyway. See you tomorrow." She said before she grabbed her bag, and headed out.
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