The Crimson Dawn lifts off into the smog-choked atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa, nuzzling its way into traffic as you head for the district that the Rimmer's Rest is located in. Due to Nar Shaddaa's utter disrespect for traffic systems, you are almost hit by a zippy little blue starfighter as it zooms past.
When you land, Snith is waiting for you.
"Hey, sorry about that whole...almost hitting you...thing..." he says. Awkward silence as you death-glare him. "The Cold Hard Wit is a bit of a challenge to handle. I've put some work into it, though." More death-glaring. "Alright, well, to the bar!"
Eventually you reach the pub, the Rimmer's Rest. From your limited knowledge of it, you know that it is very cheap but a decent establishment (as far as pubs on Nar Shaddaa go). Frequented by spacers and smugglers, mostly. The spacers come to drink and make merry. The smugglers come to do business with contacts, representing the Hutts.
The bar is very spartan and blocky. A few large glow-orbs flood the rooms with dim lighting. Every surface is made of some beat-up metal, and the walls were given a few coats of green paint a some point within the last two centuries. The actual bar itself is opposite the doorway, where the sleepy old bartender serves drinks when pestered. Behind him, the neon lighting of the bar's mascot- a green snake with three horns breathing fire- blinks lazily.
It is actually rather crowded tonight. A group of spacers are singing rousing drinking songs to the right side of the doorway, while most others are socializing in the booths in a room to the left of the bar, snoring passed out in various positions under or on or around the tables, or quietly lined up on stools at the bar itself.
"Where do we start?" Snith asks.