There was a time when Marsh would have considered himself to be a very competitive salesman, offering the best deals in Omega's shopping district, save for the Black Market. But those days had passed him by years ago – since Harrot had kicked the bucket during Cerberus's occupation. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Henner, Kylan's gang, Moklan, Garka, all his regulars had died too; hell, Marsh wasn't sure if not having any competition was worth it if he didn't have any customers either. He grumbled to himself and set about setting his stock up anyway.
Weapon mods, armor plating, model ships, Marsh had it all. And yet, the only thing he'd sold lately was a couple of back issues of Fornax. He sighed and leaned heavily on the counter, wishing he had something to drink, or a customer like that alliance spectre that had bought his whole stock in one day all those years ago.
"Excuse me, are you the proprietor of this establishment?" an energetic voice questioned. Marsh turned, blinking all four of his eyes and settling on a greyish salarian.
"Uh, yeah." He said gruffly. "You looking for anything in particular?"
The salarian stuck out a three fingered hand to shake and introduced himself to Marsh. "Oh no, I'm not looking to buy. My name's Ish. I've bought one of the neighboring properties and plan to open a store of my own." Marsh squinted with his upper pair of eyes, but kept the lower pair on the salarian.
"Is that so?" he rumbled. Ish nodded at him.
"Oh yes, as you are the only other merchant around, I thought I'd see what you had, for…research." The salarian blinked innocently.
"Marsh laughed roughly. "Finally. Some Competition. I was beginning to think I'd die of boredom…"
