Eiron found the Woolyman Club without difficulty. He could hear the noise from the crowd and the music a few blocks away. Concerned about his appearance, Eiron had made his way into a closed shop and stolen a set of light plate armor and a blaster rifle. Atop of his armor, he continued to wear his cloak, with his lightsaber stuffed up his sleeve.
The Woolyman Club was rowdy and packed to the brim, with loud music blaring from all directions. The club was two-tiered, with a stairway leading up to a third level that was really not much more than a cage built above the second floor. For the size of the building, Eiron wasn't expecting this many people, but there was so much life he could feed on here that it didn't matter.
Eiron had been concerned about blending in, but it turned out that he stood out because of how conservative he looked. There was no middle ground. Those on the dance floor were wearing little and those who were not dancing were fairly armored. Fiber armor beneath his cloak made him look a bit out-of-place, but not enough to arouse attention. He slid up to the bar.
"I'm looking for Sloan," Eiron said to the bartender. He spoke clearly and the Force allowed his voice to carry over the noise so the bartender could hear him perfectly.
"Dice tables," the bartender said. "He's feeling lucky tonight, I suppose."
"Thanks." Eiron turned away.
"Nothing for the trouble?" the bartender asked. Eiron waved his hand and said, "What trouble?"
The bartender went about his business as if Eiron had never been there.
Sloan was the only Gossam at the dice table, or, indeed, the only Gossam in the club. He dressed well, better than anyone else Eiron had seen, aside from the Senator wearing blue veda cloth, nestled with a Twi'lek dancer near the back. Eiron slid up to his side.
"All right, let's see an eight!" Sloan threw down the holodice and they bounced onto an eight, a six and a two. "Yeah, baby!" The others around the table cheered. "I'm feeling hot tonight, folks! Gimme Tarisian ale, and a round for everyone at the table!"
The crowd cheered even louder. Eiron rested his hand on Sloan's shoulder as the stickman collected the dice.
"You need something, buddy?" Sloan asked, without glancing at Eiron.
"I'd like to talk to you about a proposition."
"I don't talk about business if I'm not working."
"How about a side bet, then?"
Sloan looked his way. "I'm listening."
"What's your position with the Revenants?"
"I'm an organizer and accountant. I don't actually do things for them."
"Fair enough, then. Can you get me to their assets?"
Sloan's eyes widened. "You're crazy."
"Maybe."
"Player, your roll."
Sloan took up the dice and glanced again at Eiron. "Call a seven," Eiron instructed. Sloan shrugged and did so. A three and a four. Seven.
"By the Force!"
"Indeed." Eiron leaned a bit closer and spoke into Sloan's ear. "You will help me, won't you? You will be rewarded, beyond your wildest dreams."
"I...I can't cross them."
"Pity."
Eiron stepped away from the table and left the club. Sloan's next roll got him a snake eyes. He looked after Eiron but he was already gone. Sloan watched the exit for a few seconds and then shook his head. He had to keep his head on the dice game. He ordered another round of ale to keep his mind off of it.
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