Korvin was seated in a smallish eatery on Restaurant Alley, taking advantage of one of the best deals to be had on food, maybe in the whole city. Sure, it was just a bubbly drink, rolled sandwich, and some mass-produced galactic chips, but every credit he wasn't spending on small symbols of independence like eating out was a credit that was available to maintain Ruby in the lifestyle to which he wanted his beloved speeder bike accustomed. And, truth be told, he had occasionally eaten at the fancy restaurants uptown. The food on Restaurant Alley was much more enjoyable in his estimation, even the cheap stuff.

The Pantoran picked up his drink and looked, somewhat meditatively, out the window of the restaurant as he took a sip.

Walking through restaurant alley, recording people eating, Nimbo noticed the racer and sat down completely uninvited.

"I recognize you from the races I believe, correct?"

The Pantoran pauses, sandwich in his hands and mouth wide open, at the unexpected and slightly strange individual appearing before him. It takes him a moment to react, slowly closing his mouth and setting the sandwich back in the basket in front of him.

"Er, yeah, probably?" Korvin begins, sounding pretty skeptical. "I mean, I see a lot of... people... around races," he says, word choice very tentative. "So many that, you know, remembering is hard. But are you, like, also a racer?" Slowly acclimating to the surprise of the encounter, Korvin begins to sound like this is a perfectly normal kind of experience.

"Well, I'm sure you wouldn't recognize me. I just like watching. But I've always been curious about them because the racers seem to care for their speeders a great deal," he says with a smile. "Please continue eating, I understand biologicals need to do so."

It's almost like he has forgotten for a moment that the mouth can't eat and talk simultaneously. At least not easily.

"Right," Korvin says, only moderately at ease with the situation. But he quickly crunches a chip and then starts talking, because any excuse to talk about Ruby is welcome.

"I did care a lot about my speeder bike, Ruby. She works hard when we race and I try to take good care of her. Easier to do that when you win and you've got credits to spend, right? But she's always been good to me. So I don't take any, uh, what someone called 'stupid risks' with her or anybody riding her." The Pantoran looks very proud of himself for his personal code of bike safety, then his smile parts as he takes another bite of his sandwich.

"I'm sure it takes a lot of expertise and time to maintain a speeder at peak performance. I've only ever done minor repairs for folks to earn a few credits. But I noticed that some of the racers use cybernetic enhancements to improve their own performance. You don't do so?"

Korvin munches thoughtfully as Nimbo speaks, his face crinkling a little at mention of cybernetics. He swallows the last of the bite and says thoughtfully, "I don't think I've ever really thought about that. My parents give me a lot of leeway with racing as it is, so I'm sure that, uh, physical augmentation would be too much for them. Especially since I'm supposed to keep a low profile. Which..." He shrugs. "Hard to be low profile while winning, but trying to soup up my body and my bike just sounds like a recipe for even more attention."

Korvin takes a sip of his drink and looks at Nimbo with some curiosity. "So, if you watch the races a lot, do you have favorites? You can like whoever you want, as long as it's not that Twi'lek jerk, Tozza." The Pantoran chuckles like it's a joke, but his stern eyes say it's really not.

"I don't have any particular favorites. I tend to be more focused on lap times, racing lines and speeder specifications. I like recording the data for myself to build performance models as a hobby," he replies. "Trying to extrapolate engine tuning details and such."

Korvin looks at the... man... with more scrutiny. "So you have a lot of data, about like... all the frequent racers?"

Korvin's eyes suggest he recognizes this could be valuable. To a lot of people. "And right now you're just... studying it? Like, for fun?"

"Nothing that isn't already public knowledge, with some of it simply from my perspective. There are likely others that have more in depth information. I imagine that crews and racers regularly slice each other's data to better understand their setups and tactics," Nimbo replies with a shrug.

"Suuure," Korvin says nonchalantly. "But for a racer trying to make it on their own, you could be like, really helpful." It's not a question but a statement of fact, accompanied by a serious look from the Pantoran.

"And the racers that have someone managing things like that full time pay them as full time employees. But my capabilities are worth more than the credits that job would bring in," Nimbo replies. "Slicing brings in far more credits."

"Ah, I gotcha," Korvin says with a nod. He takes another drink. "You're trying to make money and don't want to get distracted with other things. Alright. I get it. See I'm on my own in racing, so maybe I'll look you up after I get some big wins or something. What's your name?"

"I am Nimbo Toda," he says before offering a handshake. "A pleasure to meet."

"Likewise," Korvin says, taking the offered hand. The young man crunches two more chips, looking at Nimbo more intently than he probably would an "organic."

"So how did you get started flowing racers? It's not exactly prestigious... or even easy, given our... irregular schedule," he asks, genuinely curious how the serious man became a data analyst for questionably legal street racing.