Lyra's apartment was dark and silent when she walked in, her high heels in her hand. The door slid closed behind her and locked automatically, and she dropped her heels by the door. She called out, "Lights," and the room was illuminated by the two light fixtures in the ceiling of her living room as well as in the hallway.

Sighing from fatigue, Lyra untied her headband and pulled it off, dropping it on the lounge chair she passed by on her way down the hall. She slid the silver ribbons off her lekku, draping them over her shoulder, as she walked toward her bedroom.

The door was closed over, which made her pause. Lyra lived alone, and so she rarely closed any of her doors. As her ears adjusted to the quiet, she heard breathing coming from inside her room. She quickly lifted up the gown of her silver dress and pulled a small dagger from her garter belt. She wasn't supposed to be armed while on shift, but a lifetime's experience had taught her to be cautious.

She heard what sounded like movement inside…and then a muffled snore.

Lyra pushed the door to her bedroom open, discovering her old friend and occasional headache, DJ. He was dead to the world in her bed, laying face-down and spread-eagle. With another sigh, this one of relief, Lyra put her knife down on her dresser and approached the bed.

She sat next to him and tried to gently shake him awake, but the alcoholic stench coming off his breath told her he wouldn't be waking anytime soon.

Whatever had possessed him to get passed-out drunk in the midst of Nar Shaddaa, come to her apartment, and break in for a nap, Lyra wouldn't find out for some time. DJ certainly enjoyed a good time, especially if he had suddenly come into a big payout. Typically he was a little more careful about becoming so intoxicated that he would be unable to defend himself in case he got into any trouble, but if the mood took him…

Lyra just shook her head.

Her bed was much bigger than she needed, but DJ was a big man, and he took up the whole thing with the way he was laying. He was still fully dressed, so Lyra pulled his coat off and draped it over a chair. Coins jingled in the pockets, and DJ stirred, making Lyra pause. He turned over onto his back, but remained asleep. She pulled off his boots and collected his hat, putting them with his coat. She wouldn't be able to get his holster off, but she removed his blaster and put it on her end table.

She watched him for a time, taking in how he looked. Other than needing a wash, which wasn't uncommon with DJ, he looked a good deal better than the last time they had met. His hair had been recently trimmed, his ever-present stubble wasn't too out of control. He looked more filled out—almost a little too filled out—telling Lyra he had recently seen a turn in his luck.

Picking up the blanket she had kicked to the floor that morning, Lyra draped it over DJ and grabbed her sleeping clothes from her dresser before leaving him to sleep off his drunkenness.

The previous evening…

It was a drizzly evening on Nar Shaddaa, but DJ barely felt the stinking rain on his face as he followed a throng of people down a busy street. For once, he was heading where the trendy crowds were headed: to Centrephalia, one of Nar Shaddaa's premier clubs.

He looked entirely out of place surrounded by crowds of young people dressed in fashionable clothes. Clad as always in his long leather coat, brown trousers, and black boots, and no doubt at least twice the average age of the people around him, DJ nonetheless sauntered in the building lit by tens of thousands of colorful lights. He met no resistance, but he wasn't exactly in yet.

Centrephalia was a twenty-story building, with independent clubs on every floor. DJ needed to get to the very top to Centrephalia 20, a private venue holding a birthday party of none other than the notorious weapons dealer Gaius Argonar. DJ didn't exactly have an invitation, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"Don't join," a voice said quietly behind him. DJ whipped around to be met with a short, stocky man with striking red hair. "Of all the fashionable hats in this place, that one's pretty unique." He spoke with a very light brogue.

"Mad-d-de it myself," DJ said lightly.

"You seem like a crafty one," the man said, a smile on his thin lips. "Where might ya be headed?"

"Wherever Lady Luck t-t-takes me," DJ said. The man smile broadened.

"The Lady certainly be smilin' on ya tonight, my friend," the man said, putting an arm around DJ's shoulders. It was rather difficult for him, as DJ was well over a head taller than him. "How'd you like to go to a real knock-out of a party?"

"Sounds exact-t-tly what I'm looking for," DJ said with a grin. He had a good feeling about this ginger gentleman.

The man led DJ to the elevator pads and was pleased when they appeared on the twentieth floor. They were in a foyer strewn with men, women, and otherwise lingering with each other in the relative quiet. The ginger man walked past these people to the automatic doors which opened as he approached, and the music increased in volume by tenfold.

DJ followed the man through the doors and was immediately surrounded by dozens of dancing bodies. He felt the beat of the electronic music in his bones. The air tasted of alcohol and adrenaline. Strobing lights colored the floor and bodies, making everyone appear green, gold, purple, and pink. Twenty or thirty years ago, this was DJ's kind of scene. Even now, the thought of losing himself in goodness knows what sort of substances were floating around the crowds was more than appealing. But DJ was here for a purpose.

Focusing on his guide, DJ followed the man through the crowd toward the back part of the club where a dozen or so tables were set up piled high with all manner of food. Of the offerings DJ could identify, there were fruits, meats, cheeses, nuts, and breads all arranged in colorful arrangements. Even as packed full of people as the private club was, the amount of food offered seemed extremely excessive. Partygoers loitered about the tables, taking nibbles here and there before returning to the dance floor or heading to the massive bar on the adjacent end of the club.

"There he be," the man said into DJ's ear and pointed to the table at the very back of the room. At the head of the table was a twi'lek man reclining in a carved wooden chair. He was surrounded by a half-dozen men looking menacing and a few very attractive alien women. DJ had never seen Gaius Argonar before, and despite his reputation, his appearance was quite unexpected.

Even sitting, the man looked massive. His long legs stretched out before him, DJ figured he may be almost a head taller than the thief. He was fat, extremely so, but his broad frame and muscular build made him look formidable. He was dressed very unlike a twi'lek male, but strikingly stylish nonetheless. He wore well-pressed gray slacks, a crisp white short-sleeved shirt, and a matching gray waistcoat, with not a thread out of place. His lavender skin looked blue under the flashing lights, but the tattoos on his forearms were visible. Like the rest of his body, his lekku were long and thick, and they rested on his shoulders, the tips pointed upward.

He picked up a very long, wriggling worm from a jar on the table next to him and slurped it down, following it with a draft of foamy beer he drained in one go. DJ knew twi'leks could eat just about anything, but Gaius was known for eating everything.

A glittering in the light caught DJ's eye. The ring was perched on his pinky finger, the crystal set in it almost calling to DJ. That was the entire reason DJ had tracked Gaius down and come to this party. He felt restless to get his hands on it.

The man DJ had followed walked up to Gaius. Gaius smiled and sat forward to talk to the man, shaking hands with him. After a few seconds, Gaius' gaze slid to DJ. DJ took that as his cue and approached, watching as Gaius' gaze swept over him.

"So you're the little pest I've been hearing about that's been tormenting the galaxy," Gaius said. His deep voice sounded clear even over the music. He spoke Basic perfectly with no hint of any sort of Ryloth accent.

DJ grinned. "I do my b-b-best," he said.

Gaius laughed, a booming roar that drew attention from nearby dancers. "I just had a feeling I'd like you," he said. He gestured to someone behind DJ. "Maybe you could help me shake up this stuffy old moon."

A droid walked over to DJ and handed him a tall mug of foamy beer. The droid's body looked like a voluptuous woman, curvy hips and all. DJ couldn't help but watch as she walked away, making Gaius laugh some more.

"I can get you a model just like her," Gaius said, kicking out a chair from the table. He gestured for DJ to sit down. "Newer, too."

"Can't-t-t say I wouldn't find-d-d a use for her," DJ said as he sat down. He was on Gaius' right, and that ring was just inches from him. DJ could feel they crystal's energy. Although it didn't glow, it was certainly active.

"I've heard your name from a few clients," Gaius said, pulling a plate of seared meat closer to him. "Can't say they sang your praises, but what they did talk about always sounded, shall we say, exciting." He bit a huge chunk of meat off and chewed it a bit while DJ sipped his drink. "And to my delight, here you are! At my party, no less." He spoke with his mouth full. If he possessed any twi'lek etiquette, he wasn't dispositioned to display it here.

"Quite a p-p-party," DJ commented, watching Gaius drain a second mug of beer.

"Indeed! And why shouldn't it be?" Gaius said, slamming his fist down on the table. "I know what I enjoy and I have the means to procure them." He grinned over at a pair of curvy women who looked over when he slammed his fist. "Why shouldn't I enjoy it? Certainly most other members of my unfortunate species would react with disgust at this excess. As if a stringent lifestyle makes you a better man." Gaius leaned in close to DJ, his breath reeking of alcohol, his face deeply flushed. "But I'm not the one selling off my own, am I?"

"More p-p-power to you," DJ said, raising his glass a bit. Gaius laughed in response and clapped DJ on the shoulder so hard DJ was almost knocked out his chair.

DJ had lost track of the redheaded man, but he reappeared just then to set down a bottle of very fine whiskey on the table. "Ah, Joiner," Gaius said with delight, "I do believe you are telepathic." DJ looked at the man apparently called Joiner (is that why he liked DJ's hat?) and was struck by his appearance.

In the lobby of Centrephalia, Joiner looked like any other hype man looking for partygoers. He was dressed well but ultimately unthreatening. Now, he was armed to the absolute teeth, with two blasters in holsters on his hips, a sheathed knife attached to a band on his upper arm, and what was undoubtedly a lightsaber attached to his belt. Overall, Joiner looked rougher too—his face was ruddier, his blue eyes were ringed with dark circles, and there was a nasty old scar along his cheek that his ginger scruff did nothing to hide. DJ should have noticed that scar in the lobby; there could be only one reason why he didn't.

Joiner met DJ's eyes, and an understanding passed between them as Joiner sat down across from DJ and poured out three shots of whiskey. Joiner was Force-sensitive; Joiner knew DJ was Force-sensitive; Joiner knew DJ was up to no good. A wiser man would abandon any nefarious plan at this point and enjoy being in the good grace of Gaius Argonar.

DJ was not a wise man.