Darth Adekos marched quietly along the pathway, lightsaber hanging visibly from the belt at his waist. He was here on business- personal business. His current company had outlived its usefulness. Operating costs would soon exceed profits. It was time to plant the seeds for something smaller, more tactical, more consistently profitable. To do that, he needed to start here on Coruscant. Adekos had no desire to do all of this himself again. He needed a figurehead, and the craven Neimoidian Byzus Lanko would do well enough in that role. They had just exited a meeting several moments ago and were now on the path back to their shuttle.
The Neimoidian trailed behind his keeper, nervously rubbing his hands together. "I don't understand. You're a Sith, aren't you? But you paid him for the property. Why didn't you just..." Byzus trailed off when Adekos' mirrored faceplate glanced over his shoulder to glare at him. "...You know, kill him. Take all his stuff. That kind of thing. It's more Sithly, I've heard."
"Oh, right. And maybe while I'm at it I'll find a local children's hospital, burn it to the ground, butcher the survivors, force their families to watch, then mount their heads on spikes outside of the local spaceport as a lesson to others." Their route took them through a small shanty's market area. A few produce stalls were set up. "That sound pleasant to you?"
"Not entirely..."
"For your information, Mr. Lanko, there's a lot more to being a Sith than random acts of violence."
"Premeditated acts of violence?"
Byzus had been glancing around the market when Adekos suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing the Neimoidian to bump into the darkly clothed Sith Lord. Deciphering Adekos' expression was all but impossible with that mirrored faceplate, but somehow Byzus still got the impression his benefactor wasn't exactly pleased with the direction of this conversation. The poor businessman flinched under the withering gaze of Adekos' mask.
"No, you bloody oaf." Adekos eventually said, voice tainted with a pompous sort of anger. "Let me explain this to you in a way you might understand." Adekos glanced around the market, taking note of the various produce present in each of the stalls. He eventually found what he was looking for, snatching a vegetable telekinetically and calling it into his waiting hand. He held the Ithorian onion just in front of Byzus' face. "Sith are like... Onions."
A moment of silence passed as Byzus glanced between Adekos and the onion. "They smell bad?"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, they make you cry?"
"Or, they turn brown and sprout little white hairs if you leave them in the sun for too long?"
There are few sights more amusing than an Umbaran's face turning red with rage. That was probably why Adekos preferred to wear the mask. "Layers! For the love of..." Darth Adekos began tore off a chunk of the onion's skin to demonstrate. "Sith. Have. Layers. Onions have layers; Sith have-" Adekos gave a disgusted grunt and discarded the onion, tossing it to the side. "You get the idea. We both have layers."
Adekos turned around and began walking again, crushing the onion underfoot as he went. Byzus followed dutifully even as the Umbaran launched into a lecture. "Real Sith, competent Sith, can be defined by more than just the atrocities they commit. They have goals! Complex motivations! Far reaching plans! Some of them even have principles, which generally means paying for goods and services rather than seeing how many people I have to stab before I get everything for free."
"Ah." Byzus said. "I think I get it now."
"Truly, a more staggering display of Neimoidian intelligence has never been witnessed by mortal eyes."
The rest of this walk, Adekos hoped, would take place in stoic silence.