"Eridani. A world where the estimated landmass sits somewhere between 20-25% on its best day. Where roughly a quarter of the population of the world are pirates or otherwise engaged in some aspect of piracy. And Tiro'oga, one of the sleaziest, most crime ridden, ugly, dirty, fun fish head piles that ever was shat out by the Captain himself...", Girom emphasized the name by pushing his cigarette into the ashtray roughly, his face a sour scowl as he let the smoke push out of his lungs as naturally as a breath. "...So, of all the places that a genuine golden egg of Ca'a-Deri is found, you're saying some stump finned mouth breather's got it in his root cellar?!". Girom threw his drink down his throat and set the glass down heavily to emphasis his disbelief. "Have your fun, boys, but count me out! The Girom, the Heavy Handed knows when he's being taken for a run.", Girom waved his hand as he left the men. He felt their long stares on his back but paid them no mind. This wasn't the sort of place one started shooting, unless you had enough guns and bullets to take everyone else out as well. Planning a crime though? That was fine. In fact, it was one of his favorite places to lie low or just relax while hammering out your latest heist or smuggling route. Girom pushed open the metal door as it protested in a high whine. He caught the door lip and swung it closed, slamming the door a little more than he intended. Maybe that made him seem less interested or irate... Good, either way. He paused just long enough to light another cigarette and pull a long slow drag from it. Savoring the harsh, yet smooth flavor as it floated past his lips and nostrils like some ancient dragon. Flicking his cigarette he headed west toward the docks. He wasn't ending up there, but nearby enough. He was to meet someone there. Several someones to be precise, but this particular one was going to do a job with him. This job required the best and that meant him, of course. But after that there wasn't much room for "good" mercenaries. Maybe only a handful he could think of beyond himself and a lot of them were dead now. Oh, and Kearan Viel'Tha. Sexy. Deadly. And fiery. Just the way he liked them. As he passed a stall selling smoked fish on a stick, he helped himself to a pair of them when the vendor wasn't looking. It was only two, hardly a crime at all. He heard the man yelling, but it didn't seem like it was at him, so he continued on, eating casually as he made his way toward a more out of the way street. His destination was a low, nondescript building with grease darkened windows and walls that were more soot than brick and mortar. With a quick glance around he nudged the door open, this one surprisingly quiet and free swinging, and stepped through quickly. He found himself standing next to two very large individuals, both heavily armored and with obvious enhancements. His shoulders bowed with their heavy hands placed upon them, stopping him short of going any further. "Hey, fellas. You remember me, don'tcha? The guy your boss wanted? For the job?", he gave them a wry smile and held his hands up as if in surrender, though in reality he was readying himself in case he had to kill them. After a long minute they did let him pass and they were free to live another day. Before him were two men and Kearan, they sitting in two old wooden chairs, and her leaning against the table that was before them. She looked impatient, probably with him, but a good mercenary has others wait on him, not the other way around. As he approached them he gave Kearan his winningest smile, "How's it going, firecracker?". He knew he wasn't familiar enough with her to use that kind of name with her, which is exactly why he did it. With his arms akimbo he gave a quick glance to the others and returned his eyes back to Kearan, "And what say you, soon to be money givers?".