It had been another interesting day for the Pantoran. He could only hope that his dealings with Kidaja would pay off in the hunt for Azanak.
But it was time to unwind. He had heard of a series of Swoop drag races in the Shadow Town. Disreputable, full of scum and villains of all stripes. The kind of company that a respectable person would avoid.
The kind of crowd that he had heard the good Senator seemer to enjoy. His kind of people.
Durasay had sent a message to the Republic compound to be delivered to Adrianaa, and here he waited, at the outskirts of the crowd gathering to watch and bet on the races.
His trench coat was still worn, over his military jacket, the cross-flap undone, showing the smugglers shirt underneath. Nervously, he checked his chrono.