"Permission tat, please."
The man smiled at the female security officer guarding the gate of the Floating World and nodded, "Of course."
The tavern patrons came, ate, drank, chatted, laughed, and left. Over and over; the pattern repeating, the patrons marking their time in specific increments.
Suen was visibly shaken. She was clearly not happy to be here, but perhaps more than that, she seemed confused.
"I don't understand," Suen said.
The wind of the early evening howled as the open-top, 4-seat aircar jetted into the oncoming night.
Equipped with goggles and commsets they sped toward the village Deshel and Suen had frequented their first few nights on-planet.
The morning exploded in thunder and the screeches of palm-sized, winged mammals as they took flight.
A plume of vaporized garbage rocketed into the air accompanied by hurtling shards of long-buried metal and materials.
Shake Hands was a planet on the cool side, occupying an outer position of its sun's circumstellar habitable zone. While cold at times, it wasn't completely intolerable. Even overnight.