When Han inquires after Nefid d’Hon, the bartender points to an Altorian bird sitting alone at a corner table.
The Altorian sips a disgusting looking green mush through a long straw. The bird has a large, hooked beak, golden eyes, and a feathery skull-covering that sweeps away from its downy face. Nevid d’Hon has the look of a cold-blooded predator, an impression Han knows to be accurate. Altorian birds still hunt their sentient planet-mates, Altorian lizards, for food and sport. Needless to say, the relationship between the two Altorian races is not congenial.
When Han asks if Nevid d’Hon has recently outfitted a “free-freighter” for Alfreda Goot, the outfitter regards Han coolly. Finally, in it’s own screeching language, it asks, “Who wants to know?”
“Han Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon,” Han informs him. He hopes his reputation will carry some clout with d’Hon.
“If I had outfitted the woman, I’d tell you I had not,” the Altorian answers. His eyes show no interest in Han’s identity. “My client’s business is his – or her – own.”
Han drops his hand to his blaster pistol. “Somebody kidnapped a friend of min,” he says coldly. “That makes it my business.”
Nevid d’Hon regards Han with heated eyes. “If you sought my client, you would be dead now, Solo.” He nods to two Gamorrean bodyguards at the next table. “Fortunately, you seek someone else.”
“Thanks,” Han says, backing cautiously away.