-It doesn't make much sense, does it? Mercy, I mean. After all, you're a bounty hunter; killing people for money kinda loses its point if you don't kill them.
- No, it's mindless butchering that doesn't make sense.
It was the weekly drinking meet in a fairly large cantina in an unspecified location in the galaxy. He had made friends with an old client, and they had cordially agreed to give eachother an excuse to drink once a week.
- I'm not a sith. They like massacring innocents, I don't.
-But it can't be good for business. You know, to let the target wriggle away with an alternate solution.
- I'd like to think I cater to a particular clientele; those who want a discreet and proper solution rather than vengeance. And, frankly, my bank account agrees with me. If anyone wants something done well, even better than their original plan, in fact, then I'm their man!
It was true; more often than not, he ended up getting paid double for pulling off a solution that settled things for both the client and the target. And in a business that runs on word of mouth, being known as the clever and tactful one isn't really a bad thing.
- Frankly, the empire could learn one or two things from me. If they ever wanna win this thing, they're gonna have to drop all this sith nonsense about breeding hatred and whatnot! They insist on using slave labour and crushing anyone who speaks up against them, and then they're surprised when they end up with a dozen planetary rebellions on their hands. Rule number one of successfully ruling an empire; don't go out of your way to piss everyone off, because those people'll be kicking you in the teeth one day. Oh well, I guess it'll keep me busy for another thousand years!
To most likely never be continued!
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