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The Mandalorian sat up, his nightmares capturing him. The man breathed in and out, slowly, but surely he calmed down. The man looked into the visor of his father's armor, as if it was haunting him.
He got up quickly, wanting to forget that terrible, terrible dream he had. He put on his beskar armor and took his staff. While on the way out the door he took his cloak as well, he threw it over his shoulders, black enveloping him. 'Another horrible day...' the Mando huffed out, thinking to himself.
Once outside, he noticed it was early in the morning, the sandy winds of Tatooine and the two suns made it for what it was, a sandy hellscape most only go for gambling, slaves, and hiding. He walked while the sand stained the yellowish-gold stripped boots. Since he lived quite far away from the main town, it took the helmeted man quite some time to get from point A to point B, so to speak.
The man got there eventually, walking into the cantina, where there was a human and droid bar tender well, tending the bar of course. The droid spoke, "Hi, welcome customer, what would you like?" While the human man just huffed and grunted out a short response, "Damn droid," Clearly the more grumpy of the two. Anyway, the human man was rather plain looking, with wrinkles making him look like to be in his 40s, maybe 50s. He wasn't quite balding yet, with his temples seemingly dipped in grey. The droid didn't have any remarking features for a droid made to serve whatever, just two beady eyes that looked at the Mandalorian, his visor shone off the eyes the droid had.
"Now, Mandalorian I assume, what do you want?" The gruff man would cough out.
"I just need information," the armored man would say.
"Oh? Are you apart of that Bounty Hunters Guild, or somethin'?" The human bartender was curious now, his mildly hairy arms crossing and leaning over the counter bar.
"I guess you could say that," the Mandalorian would place his gloved hands on the counter himself, about an inch or two taller than the older man.
"Well, Mando, before I can give that info, I gotta have a name, can't be playin' nor sayin' anything about what I have unless I register you into this ol' clanker here," He smacked the droid on the back, the droid would spin in 'shock'.
"You may call me 'Q'," Q now wrapped his hands with his fingers, like you'd see with a teacher's pet (or something).
"Well, 'Q', name's Franklin, Franky for short, Clanker! File the Mando's name up!" The droid would get on it, his eyes flashing between blue and red.
The droid spun, "Yes, sir."
"Anyways, where were we? Oh, yeah, info, what did you wanna know, Q?" Franklin twirled a pen he picked up recently in his hand, chewing it between his teeth.
Q adjusted his helmet quickly, "Well, I was wondering if you've heard of a man named 'Rod Garldson'..."