Ralina cursed aloud. Her hand in pazaak had failed her, and now she was left with nothing but a rather warm glass of Corellian ale and a few credits to keep her company. She had spent nearly two thousand credits gambling, trying to make a fortune here on Dantooine. She figured it wouldn’t have been too hard making some money off dreary spacers and droll farmers. After all, she had earned some winnings last time she had come here. She hoped the alcohol would ease her suffering. She’d try anything at this point. “Hey! I need another Corellian over here,” she called to the barkeep. “What?” “We?”