Sam'kil Nevar stepped out of the bar, swaying left and right ever so slightly. The inside was a bloody mess now, the target he'd been told to take out had more friends than he was aware of.
A few years of no-force-usage and you suddenly forget to check your surroundings, Brilliant! He downed the last of his Juma-Juice and threw the cup over his shoulder. After this job, he'd have enough money to purchase a ticket to Tatooine. Wish I hadn't given up my ship, no need to go find tickets adn do odd-jobs to get going.
A presence moved through the Force, making him look behind him. A large man, his boss on this mission, stepped up.
"Nice job, but the guards didn't need to be killed." The man said.
"They kinda got in the way, but you never specified letting them live. Where's my money?" Sam'kil pushed.
" Uh-uh, you've got one last job. My, err, company, is feeling the need to have some more muscle." He began.
"Sorry, not interested." Sam'kil interrupted.
"No-no-no. We have our eyes on another Jedi, an exiled one, like you." No ones like me, trust me you murkglack." We'd like to acquire the jedi, unharmed if at all possible. Deal? We'll even pay for your ticket."
Sam'kil thought about this. He could kill the man right here and now, but that not only defied his personality, he probably didn't have the money recquired to get off this rock on him.
Deep thought #1: In the end, everyone dies. No one can outrun time, death itself is always breathing down your neck, just waiting to slip the noose over you. But, in your time of death, what matters is not when or how or even why. What matters is what you do with it. Do you sit down and call it quits, or do you get up, stare your killer and death itself in the face, and laugh copiously, right until the end.