h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

[seedy spaceport? It may seem a little too early to say/determine. Perhaps a peek at some/a few of the 'denizens'...]

[As the two 'intrepid space travelers' sit down on stools counter-side another being sits next to them]

[An as of yet completely enigmatic being (more or less)]

[The bartender looks uneasily at this new person]

"Gin" Eecee: And.. er... what will you be having sir?

[. Good/nice job.]
3rd space traveler: "..."
*pauses to think; contemplates the bartender's question.*
"Do you guys carry Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters? If so,-I'll have one of those."
"..."
They appear to be a rather mysterious antannaed being, who is wearing a somewhat-tattered, long and by the looks of it well-'worn in' traveler's cloak.

A32: "Do you folks carry machine-grade oil at this 'establishment' ? If you do, I'd like a hot-mug-of that."
*tips bartender (not literally, mind you. i.e. not tipping over, (etc.))*

Eecee: Right away sir. *ducks under bar and starts unlocking a safe*

*puts a mug of machine oil on counter* That'll be seven krushniks please.

A32 & Razor Ecg: (together @ the same time) : " 'krushniks'?"
(say what?)
Razor: "Say, that brings up a good question I've been meaning to ask for awhile,<-What part of the galaxy is this that we are in anyway? My ship's Nav. system has been down for awhile, so I've just been charting course-on manual, you know, 'the old-fashioned way.'"

*places a small & stoppered vial full of ore flakes of gold dust on the counter, instead.*

Mysterious 6-armed Insectoid: "'Krushniks'...why,-they look like this."
*shows the two a coin, while paying for its own drink."

[Oops, I meant to put '4-armed & two-legged.']

*the bartender steps out into the light a bit revealing distinctly feline facial charecteristics*

How do you not know where you are? Nobody comes to this planet unless they mean to.

Razor Ecg: "well, my ship's automated Nav. system broke down a few weeks back -when I had accidentally wandered a little too close toward the edges of a star-battle. One that was still going on as it turns out.
I haven't bothered to go somewhere to order the replacement parts, up until just now. I was hoping I could buy them or trade for some from someone at this station perhaps..."

Eecee: You won't find many good repair shops around here. They'll all rob you blind. Literally. Eyes go for a bundle on the medical market. But... I know a dealer who may be able to help.

A32: *Gives a sort of brief and ambiguous shrug,-then proceeds to gulp down the mug-of hot-machinery oil.*

Razor: "Eyes, eh?"
(eeagh-Urrrr-urg...Sheesh and here I've got 3 that I kind-of-need & am rather partial to, too wouldn't Y'know).

"Nobody in their right mind (or depending on the type of alien race/species, perhaps mind(s)), would try to sneak up & gouge-out my eyes. They'd get psychologically fried worse than they already were (I'm an Esper you know)."
*s*

Razor: "You see A32 and I are part-time junk-collectors. We collect space debris from the wreckage that is around after space battles (these occur fairly frequently these days too)."

A32: *raises a visor-like eyebrow at that.*
(thinks, whatever the [:] equivalent to thinking is) : 'This bartender, Eecee, what a remarkably odd fellow he seems to be...'

[Upon eavesdropping and hearing Razor make a statement that is on-the surface seemingly innocuous, but in a way is actually a disguised threat...]

Chitin (For this is going to be the mysterious bug-person's name-I've decided) : *shudders a bit.* It decicides to put back the wicked looking-knife (serrated partially on the edge of one side too, with an optional (sometimes poison-tipped) barb attachment on the tip) it was just starting/about to take out, re-concealing the assassin's-implement within the folds of its cloak.

Narrator: *chuckling* : "And also hoping that noone around him had really noticed it."

*Eecee shuffles off to fulfill some other orders*