Three days ago, you met each other for the first time. Mind you, it was no coincidence, and it also didn’t have the effortless air of a friendly meeting at all.
In the shady backroom of a nameless junk food restaurant, owned by a silent Gran whose only quality seemed to be the ability the completely ignore what was going on in said backroom, you met each other over the proposal of business.
The Pyke syndicate, an old crime family ever on the decline since the slaying of its founder during the Clone Wars, contacted each of you with a job offer, and more importantly, with the prospect of one day being able to leave Coruscant onboard one of their many freighters, headed for a place where the Empire is just a distant memory, and the civil war merely topic for idle discussion over a glass of lum beer, or a bottle of corellian brandy.
Lom Pyke, named after his infamous grandfather, but apparently rather low on the food chain of the organization, needs an encrypted file currently in possession of the Black Sun Syndicate, a rival organization of great power yet even greater, it seems, incompetence.
Your old friend, if one might be inclined to call him as such, Chopper knew quite a lot about the secret vices of the security thug who guarded the seemingly nondescript office building, and a small bribe to the Coruscant Police Department allowed you access directly to the landing platform in front of your target.
A reprogrammed droid taxi made for an excellent anonymous vehicle, and when the security guard was sound asleep from drugged lominale and the attentions of a particularly openminded Twi’lek courtesan, you made your move.