Starship pilot who really wishes you would stop assuming they're a smuggler, pirate, and/or or some other kind of charming rogue
Selene sighed.
"Okay," She said, "Do you really want to know why this keeps happening? Because you're not going to like it."
Luna nodded, meekly.
"It's the hat."
"What?" She squeaked, half baffled half offended.
"Literally nobody doing reputable things in space does so wearing a cowboy hat. It's- I don't even know how to explain this to you in a way that shouldn't already be apparent."
"But I like my hat!"
"I know."
"You can't judge someone based on a hat!"
"I don't know what you want me to say. It's like one step removed from wearing an actual pirate hat in terms of accessories that say you are doing piracy."
"You cannot assume that from a hat."
"It's the hat and the fact that, to an outside observer, your tendency to avoid people because you're shy looks like you have a whole 'mysterious dark stranger in a tavern' vibe going on."
"But-"
"I told you you weren't gonna like it." Selene said, and finished her beer. "Now tell me what you got roped into so I can get you out of it."
"I-I think they're loading black market organs onto my ship."
"Jesus christ."
"I'm sorry."
"Luna, you can keep the hat. It makes you look cute. But, for the love of god, you have to get better at saying no to people."