Drink.

Removing your helmet, you take the shot in your hand, and raise it equally at the woman. And without a toast, any particular statement or cue down the drink. It’s warm and mildly tickling your throat, at least until you gulp when your tongue reels back from the bitter sensation. You can’t help rubbing your tongue against the ceiling of your mouth, and turn back down to face the woman. Shaking aside the brown hairs which dropped to your brow. To keep her in your view.

“Interesting,” Mused the client, rolling the shot glass around in her clutches before sliding her own helmet off. Beneath was a woman of startlingly blue skin, eyes a passionate red surrounded by both paler skin and dark lines, her lips were pursed in thought as she collected her thoughts. “I take it your people operate in the Core Worlds- don’t answer that, you’re not obligated nor do you owe me any favours.”

She was deducting... something, you weren’t sure of what. Did another Mandalorian tribe garner the attention of Imperial Intelligence? With one quick movement, the Chiss woman swallowed down the whisky in a shot and a dissatisfied scowl. “Rare to get anything authentic exported from Corellia these days, except for their snakes. Those come for free, whether you want them or not.”

Raising her helmet with both hands above her head, you see it click on - attached to some type of weave around her neck, additional protection likely. The moment of familiarity had come to an end, and she raised a hand just barely off the surface of the table and waved. “You will forget what has transpired here, Troopers.”

And with an almost soul-drained echo, the soldiers all droned out the same answers. “I will forget what has transpired here.”