Public A Moment of Fame (or Shame?)

[Nykoria Tallis]

Outlander Club, Uscru District
Coruscant, 9:36 p.m. local time

Nykoria was uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. First off, her outfit. The black sleeveless dress looked great, no doubt about it. Under different circumstances, the Zeltron would've worn it for going out. But there and then, Kori felt exposed. The soft touch of air on her arms and ankles sent goosebumps up and down her purple skin. The second off-putting factor was the music. It was louder than usual, and heavier on the ears. And yet from the place Kori was standing at, the music sounded much worse, with finer details harder to distinguish.

Doubt crept into the Zeltron's mind. Perhaps it wasn't too late to call it off? But the die was cast a moment later: the loud music died down, and a familiar announcer took the microphone.

Next up, we have a song centuries old. But it hasn't lost its relevance today!
So much so, that even the rising stars aren't ashamed of reprising it.
Give it up for KORI STARLIGHT!​

"Kriff... Guess I'm really doing this." "This" meant Kori stepping over herself and taking a job that paid rather than the one she wanted. But given her recent escapade, the Zeltron didn't really have a choice. So, even though Kori hated the thought that she was hired because of her looks, pheromones, and maybe her voice, she still had to do it. At least the stage name had a somewhat nice ring to it. With a deep breath, she walked through the backstage towards the unwanted moment of fame.

Luckily, the lights in the club were almost as dim as at the backstage, so Kori didn't have to squint visibly. However, she did experience a similar feeling when all the emotions of the patrons hit her on the stage. Disregard. Curiosity. Anticipation. Even a bit of lazy and drunken lust. Those emotions mixed up with Nykoria's own insecurity, creating a rather unpleasant cocktail. In silence, the purple hands wrapped around the microphone, waiting for the music to kick in.

Music: "Lana Del Rey - Gods And Monsters"
Piano Cover by Sawser Natho

In the age of clones and traitors, I was a Jedi.
Training at a beautiful temple,
Brought up to keep the peace, and things were so simple:
Do your best and be an example.
But war had different plans for me.
Blood, sweat, and tears getting to me slowly,
Eat away at my core, change me softly.
One day I may not return, so now I sing.

Even if I don't return today,
I know I have a good reason.
Know the Force will always find a way.
There will be peace, so I'm singing.
All that I regret, what beside the deaths I truly mourn,
It's innocence lost,
Innocence lost...​

The song was old and somewhat gloomier than the Outlander's usual repertoire. How the audience would react to the sudden change of mood remained to be seen...

 

[Ryv]

He'd spent far too much time in crummy dive bars lately.

Fortunately, the Outlander offered more than piss-poor liquor and smoke-filled rooms. Beautiful dancers and well-practiced performers kept attention off him. It wasn't every day a Jedi Knight wandered down into the lower districts, let alone the famed Sword of the Jedi. Though, infamous might be a more apt description to the denizens of Coruscants less-than-affluent regions. Most were unaware the kiffar had grown up in district 1313. The 'Hole,' as he called it, wasn't much better than Uscru. Few took the time to look past something like a lightsaber's hilt. To them, it was nothing more than a badge—just another excuse to rally.

Ryv tugged up his jacket's collar to cover the grasping edge of his tattooed flesh before he knocked twice on the countertop. A scrawny human wandered up, his features twisted into a scowl. He squinted at the kiffar through one eye, the other permanently closed from an angry white scar that stretched from just above the eyebrow to his jawline.

"What do ye want, kid?" the tender asked.

"Just gimme a water and some grub," Ryv said. "I'm sure y'all can scrape together something greasy, yeah?"

"Sure," the bartender turned and moved towards a window that separated the service area from the kitchen. He stuck his head through the open space and shouted the order back at one of the cooks.

The Jedi Knight looked away, his gaze drawn to the stage as the announcer signaled another performer to attention. This one presented herself well. The waves of hedonistic lust rolled off the crowds towards her the moment her pretty pink face pushed out into the open. Ryv rolled his eyes and turned back to the wall in front of him.

"Still waiting on that water, chief."

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

The moment when the first line of the song escaped her lips, Kori forgot about her doubts and reservations. Sure, the lust of the crowd remained, but the Zeltrons were taught how to isolate themselves from the emotions of others... in most cases. For the moment, Kori pretended to be singing for herself and herself alone. That way, she also wouldn't be as conscious about how her voice sounded to someone else.

And then there was the song itself. Something in the ancient story of a Jedi during the waning Clone Wars and Order 66 resonated with Kori. It appeared that even a few of the patrons were moved by it... The majority were still staring at the purple beauty though. But even one or two drunken innuendos playing off the song's lyrics didn't throw Nykoria off balance.

Something else was brewing amidst the crowd. The Zeltron performer was oblivious to it... Until it was too late. A glass hit the purple woman's forehead at high speed, making her yelp in pain and drop the mic. It's already thunderous fall was further amplified by the sound systems. To top it off, the alcohol from the glass ended up on the front of her dress. She just stood there, wavering and disoriented, a trickle of blood running down her forehead.

And then everything happened at once. The club's security suddenly got their hands full. As it turned out, shoving a wrong drunkard aside while searching for a perpetrator could cause a chain reaction. A drink spilled on someone else, a few curses, another shove or two... And suddenly every patron at the Outlander remembered a grudge with their neighbor, rushed in to pull the fighters apart, or just decided to test their strength in a barfight. Those who preferred flight to fight still added to the bunching and confusion.

Meanwhile, the very moment it all started, a Weequay approached the Zeltron from the backstage. Laser-focused on Kori, he rested his brown hand on her purple shoulder. The alien tried to guide the stunned performer backstage in a calm, yet insistent manner.

A plate and a glass of water had just been put in front of Ryv when the glass hit the Zeltron. A few seconds later, a drunken Nautolan shoved by someone else was on a collsision course with the counter, Ryv's stool and meal.

So much for avoiding a dive bar, huh?

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Cool it, kid. Your drink's right here," the keeper grumbled and slid the water across the bartop to the Jedi Knight. Ryv took it with a nod, his gaze drawn towards a wall lined from top to bottom with liquor. Low light bounced off each bottle, refracted in dazzling swirls along adjacent surfaces. Each ray took on a different color. Soft bluish hues mingled with sharp reds, creating a deep violet that cascaded over the kiffar like a soft blanket. Only, he found no comfort in its presence. His head drooped low, eyes cast to the stained surface of the counter's top.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair. The performance behind him grew distant, falling further and further from his mind with each passing second. He wanted to be somewhere else. Home didn't feel like home anymore. Neither his comfy little apartment, the small room kept for him at the Jedi Temple, or Coruscant at large. He longed for dimly lit barracks and dirt-covered floors. Everything on Coruscant, from the pavement to his pillow, felt far too soft. Almost like he'd melt right through them without warning.

"Order up!" a soft ding accompanied the husky voice from the kitchen ahead of Ryv. He looked up in time to see the bartender take hold of his order and carry it over.

"You like mozzarella sticks?" he asked.

"Yeah, man. Who doesn't?" Ryv inquired with a furrowed brow.

"Weirdos."

Ryv nodded at that. "Fethin' weirdos."

From behind him, something cold wafted up from the crowd. It drifted through the dull warmth of empty lust and erratic heat of drug-addled excitement. That cold feeling took shape within an instant. A sinister intent materialized from the cold before, taking on an almost icy chill as the performer's assailant loosed his glass projectile. It shattered on impact with her forehead, falling towards the floor to further break apart in smaller, crystalline shards.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Ryv and the bartender spoke in unison as the first punch was thrown.

"This happen often?" the Jedi asked, lifting his drink to his lips for a quick sip.

"Nah, not as much as you'd think. Ever since that goofball senator flooded the lower districts with security droids, it's been easier to keep folks in check. Droids don't stop beating till you're well and under. Not many sleazeballs can take that sorta butt-kicking and walk it off," he explained, a sullen look in his one-eyed stare. His movements grew more rigid. Each pass of the rag across the countertop appeared choppy as if a droid had begun the work rather than the ratty-looking human.

"You want me to take care of this?" Ryv asked.

"Look, kid," the man set down the rag and looked to the kiffar. Before he could even begin to voice his disbelief, he noticed the green-skinned squid man barreling down the bartop towards Ryv and his meal. "Watch out!" he shouted in warning, moving quickly to push Ryv back.

The Jedi simply leaned back, his knee used to prop him up and move him well out of reach of the alien's frantic movements. In passing, both the plate of food and Ryv's drink were knocked off the counter, joining the now unconscious nautolan on the floor. Ryv sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He motioned towards the spilled snacks.

"I'll be back later. Have another plate ready for me, would you?" Ryv asked with a cold smirk. His eye took on an almost wild look to it, the amber reflecting a beast who'd been chained far too long. "I've got a lot to work out tonight. I'll try and keep the property damage to a minimum."

He turned from the bartender and strode towards the four-armed besalisk who ruined his meal.

"You throw the squid at me, man?" Ryv pushed up and out on his chin. It sent a series of sharp popping noises up along his spine to the base of his skull.

"Yeah, I did! You got a problem with that, Jedi?" it leaned forward with an open sneer, its yellow eyes locked on Ryv's.

"No, but uh, you might."

The besalisk tilted his head to the side, a question taking form within his lizard brain. Ryv wasted no time. His closed fist made contact with the flabby pouch hanging from the alien's neck. It grunted in pain and stumbled back, two hands lifted to the bruised pouch, one taking hold of the countertop to stay aloft, while the fourth stretched up between him and the Jedi, fingers splayed out. Ryv took the stool from behind him and turned away from the tripped-up besalisk. Another assailant rushed him with a broken bottle, rage prevalent in his bloodshot gaze.

Ryv met him with a two-handed swing of the barstool that blew him off his feet and sent him ass-over-tea-kettle onto a nearby table. From there, most of the bargoers who spotted the jacket-clad Jedi Knight avoided him like the plague. Wherever he moved, the hustle and bustle parted around him. He began to hear his name spread through the crowd almost immediately.

"That's Ryv," someone muttered.

"Ryv Karis?" another asked in disbelief. "The damn Sword of the Jedi?"

"The very same," Ryv growled back, though he didn't turn to look at the curious onlookers. He focused instead on the chilled presence worming their way towards the stage. Ryv wound back his arm with a wide grin and whipped the stool forward as if it weighed no more than one of the broken glasses on the bar floor. It spun end over end before colliding with the man halfway through climbing atop the stage. He cried out in pain and crumpled forward, dazed and confused.

Ryv hopped up, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him towards the back of the stage.

"You wanna tell me why you just threw your drink at that nice singer, buddy?" Ryv asked as he pushed through the curtain after Nykoria.

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

- Want to get out of here in one peace?! Hurry the kark up!
- Kriff it, just hold on a second, will ya?

The injured Zeltron turned towards the dressing room and its mirrors, much to the Weequay's dismay. She bit her lower lip, leaning on the table and examining her drenched dress and the trickle of blood above her right eyebrow. Kori was no medic, but the wound was bigger than one she usually got. She knew it would need some cleaning... "They're coming! You want more than that came from?!" Her saviour's anxiety was contagious, riling up Nykoria just as easily.

And yet the commotion outside seemed to be dying down, so the Zeltron remained glue to the mirror for now. Until the Weequay literally pulled her by the shoulder, that is. "Let go of...!" the Zeltron was about to exclaim in protest, but the footsteps approaching from the stage made her forget the doubts.

The duo were just in the narrow corridor when they saw an ebony-haired young man approaching, with a middle-aged human drunkard in tow. "You wanna tell me why you just threw your drink at that nice singer, buddy?" The question remained in the air for a few moments as the human looked at the Weequay, startled. "H-he..." the man pointed at the alien. "He paid me 50 credits to do that!"

The words triggered all sorts of emotion: smeary fear in the drunkard, dumb confusion in the performer, and an explosion of anger in the Weequay. In a moment, the Zeltron's hand was twisted behind her back, causing her to groan briefly... Until she sensed the cold metal of a vibroknife at her throat.

"Back off, sleemo!" the Weequay hissed, retreating and drawing the hostage with them. The performer remained between him and the Jedi as a Zeltron shield, her blue eyes squinting at the knife pressed against her throat. "I take this schutta, she pays her dues, nobody else gets hurt." Step by step, towards the exit...

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Fifty credits, huh?" Ryv asked with a long, drawn-out sigh. His gaze shifted towards the pair at the mouth of the narrow corridor, his interest immediately snatched away from his drunk passenger. Anxiety riddled the space between them. The zeltron struggled, trapped within the weequay's grip. He appeared equally uncomfortable with the situation. As if the meager control he'd established came with far too much attention. Ryv stifled a grin and looked back to the frazzled drunkard at his feet.

"You know who I am, man?" he looked between the woman's assailant and the human before him.

"Uh-" the drunk looked up through bleary, red eyes and groaned. "I-I don't know. Honest, I'm just trying to make a few extra creds."

"I see," Ryv knelt down and gripped tight on a fistful of the dazed man's hair. He heaved back so the weequay could get a good look at both Ryv's confident smirk and the human's confusion. "Name's Ryv. Ryv Karis."

The muscles running up the Jedi Knight's arm tightened before he shoved down on the poor sod trapped within his grasp. A dull thud echoed on impact, joined by a wet crunch as his head slammed against the floor. Small rivulets of blood oozed out from beneath the prone man's face. Ryv straightened, his amber eyes locked on Kori's kidnapper. He dusted off his gloved hands and shrugged his shoulders with a faint tilt of the head.

"So hard to find good help nowadays," he took a step towards the hall housing the pair. "You and I both know you don't have the stones to kill your mark, buddy. Do us all a favor and put the knife down. I won't even chase you if you let her go and get outta here, alright?"

Ryv raised both his hands, palms aimed towards the weequay, and continued his march closer.

"I'm feeling generous today. Don't make me regret it," Ryv stated, his eyes narrowing immediately after.

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

While the famed Sword of the Jedi was about to make an example of the drunkard, the kidnapper kept pulling the victim towards the door. Step. After step. After step. To Kori, the air itself became viscous, dripping with animal fear and brutality. The thud and the subsequent blood puddle felt almost like an electric discharge. Being a Zeltron, Kori got the worst of it: she could sense Ryv's determination, the drunkard's pain, and the Weequay's tension all at once. That's not even counting her own fear.

Meanwhile, Ryv presented his ultimatum. The performer reacted to it with a quiet gasp, whereas the Weequay... Well, to say that he was at the crossroads was an understatement of the century. One could almost hear the gears grinding in his mind as the kidnapper slowly kept moving the scene to the exit door. The couple of seconds he spent weighing up his options felt like an eternity. "Alright," he grumbled begrudgingly, as the tip of the blade moved a couple of centimeters away from the Zeltron's throat.

There really was no better choice for him in the situation. Hurting or killing someone in front of an angry Jedi was asking for a beatdown... or worse. Retreating with a hostage could only get him so far, especially if law enforcement arrived and surrounded him. As for the Zeltron, her transgression apparently wasn't enough to warrant going an extra mile. Either that, or the credits offered for the job weren't worth it.

With the exit door behind his back, the Weequay made his move. It all happened at once: the Zeltron was shoved towards Ryv, flailing her arms and desperately trying to grab at anything and avoid a fall; meanwhile, the Weequay rushed through the door behind him, knife in hand. Whether the Sword of the Jedi would get even a little distracted by the move or choose to honor his promise remained to be seen. Just like whether or not the Zeltron would add a broken nose to the list of tonight's troubles.

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

Much like the zeltron trapped within her assailant's grip, Ryv also happened to be an empath. A damn good one, in fact. His knowledge of sentient emotion stemmed from an innate understanding of others from a young age. He could read a room with but a glance. The inner workings of one's mind often showed in how they behaved. Body language spoke volumes, while their strength in character helped paint a fuller picture. Couple such knowledge with a heightened sensitivity due to the Force's near-omnipotent presence? Well, it became damn near impossible to put one over on the young Jedi Knight.

He could tell from the weequay's continued retreat he'd long since run out of options. This job was meant to be a quick snatch and grab. A violent bar fight should've kept attention off his quarry long enough for him to whisk her away and toss her into some unmarked ship. Not a terrible plan. He might've escaped had there not been a Jedi present.

When the blade fell away from Nykoria's neck, Ryv took another step closer. He knew a coward when he saw one. They were typically smarter than their brave counterparts. It kept them alive longer. So, the kiffar had already begun to move well before the weequay shoved her forward. Ryv slid across the floor and reached out with both hands, positioned to break her fall with his chest. A soft grunt was all that came from the brief impact. He took her into his arms, each movement measured to ensure the zeltron avoided another blow to the head or body. His amber gaze remained locked on the back of the kidnapper's head until he disappeared through the door.

Ryv's attention fell to Kori, and he offered her his most charming smile. Waves of calm radiated from the Jedi Knight. He guided such feelings over the bleeding woman in his arms, intent on returning her to a state of peace.

"So uh, you want me to take care of that wound of yours?" he asked. "We don't even have to leave the club. I'd wager there's a medkit somewhere around here. Got a comfy seat already set up in front of the mirror, too."

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

Before the Zeltron could land on the floor, she was caught by the Jedi. He had moved so swiftly that Kori didn't even notice how he was in a position to catch her. But then again, she was in no position to pay attention either way. But none of that mattered anymore. Not even the wound on her forehead or a close call literal moments before. Kori remained idle for a while, staring at the man who had rescued her. It seemed that his smile alone could scare away the fear. Unbeknownst to the Zeltron though, there were other, more supernatural powers at play.

"Thanks," she exhaled with a smile that lightened up her face, even despite the injury. "You already helped a lot... But I wouldn't say no to more." With that, she attempted to stand up, her hand leaning against a nearby wall for support. "I think I can walk now... Could you get the medkit? It should be in the cabinet in the dressing room."

With some hesitation, she draggled towards the seat in front of the mirror. By then, the adrenaline had worn off, but so did the calmness instilled by the Jedi (to an extent). A smirk crossed Kori's lips again as she looked at the mess that was her hair-do, face, and dress. The blood had almost dried up by then, leaving a dark trail on her forehead and cheek. Her indigo hair was ruffled, and the dress had just started drying up. Still, a green-ish mark on the front remained—the trace of whatever swill that was inside the glass that had been hurled at Kori.

"Ryv Karis..." she mumbled, as if hoping that voicing it would make it feel less unlikely. Even though Kori hadn't been the news-watching type, one couldn't escape the fame of the Sword of the Jedi. Especially on Coruscant, in the heart of the Galactic Alliance. "Of all the people to end up down here and bail me out of this mess..." She exhaled again and leaned backwards in her seat, closing her eyes.

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Not that the tough gal act isn't appreciated, but you don't need to push yourself," Ryv remarked as he shifted. He kept a hand on her arm to steady her while she climbed to her feet. "I'll grab the kit, yeah. Lemme just," he stuck to her side until she seated herself in front of the mirror. "Alright, one sec."

Though the space wasn't huge compared to somewhere like the Galactic Opera House, the club's backstage still contained several separate rooms adjacent to the mainstay. He hovered within its center, hands in his jacket pockets while he turned a circle and read the small plaques and signs. The dressing room wasn't unlike the rest of the club. On the surface, the room appeared organized and well-maintained. Another mirror covered the majority of one wall. The glass was without blemishes. It alloweed the Jedi Knight to get a good look at himself for the first time in weeks.

His hair had grown out. It hung to just above his shoulders, wild and unkempt to match his jacket-clad, biker demeanor. Dark bags clung to his face just beneath his eyes. If not for the wing-like design of the black eyeliner sweeping off each amber eye, it very much looked like the kiffar had only rolled out of bed a few minutes before. He sighed and ran his hands through ebon locks. In seconds, he rolled the mop into a tight bun and tied it off with a handy-dandy hair-tie he kept in his belt.

"I look like crap," he muttered.

For far longer than he should have, Ryv stared at himself in the mirror and waited for something. When nothing noteworthy came to pass, he tugged open the desk drawers until the medkit revealed itself, tucked away behind a sleet-gray datapad. He clipped that onto his belt and hurried back to the door.

Not unlike the kiffar, Kori had lost herself within the face looking back at her in the mirror. Her earlier demeanor was heavily diminished. The beauty and mystique of this evening's entertainment replaced by terror only known to those trapped in the galaxy's darker machinations. Kori was a victim, that much he could tell. Of what, and why, however? Those details still eluded him.

He reached back to the desk with an outstretched hand. A brush resting atop it wobbled momentarily before it lifted into the air and flew across the room to the Jedi Knight's waiting palm.

"Sorry about that," he hurried back to the zeltron and set the acquired goods atop the makeup table. "I took the liberty of grabbing something to help fix up your hair, too. Lemme deal with the cut, then, if it ain't an issue, I can do you up nice and pretty again. Lookin' good always helps me feel good after something like this."

A small pop sounded as he tugged open the kit. Bandaging spilled out across the tabletop. Whoever last made use of the medkit did a terrible job at its organization post-use.

"So," he wet a cloth with contents from a dark brown vial. "Why'd that guy come lookin' for you, you think? It's not every day pretty performers are abducted from their own show on Coruscant. Most folks don't like kickin' up trouble this close to the upper levels."

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

It took Ryv a bit longer than expected, but Kori didn't mind. She had lost track of time, trying to process what had just happened. Ask her a few months before, and she would've laughed at the prospect. Having to quit the police academy? Singing at a club to earn a living? Being saved from some thug by the Sword of the Jedi? Strange things stacked up quickly, so Nykoria wasn't opposed to having a few moments to herself.

"It's ok," she tilted her head slightly to give the Jedi a better angle for cleaning the wound. Kori's lips curled up when Ryv brought up the brush and fixing the hair. The anxiety form the attack was wearing off, which showed as a slight shade of playfulness in her calm and relieved tone: "Yeah, that'd be nice. You'd be saving my life and looks today. I guess when Jedi solve problems, it's a package deal."

She'd let the Jedi do his thing, fully expecting that "it might hurt a little". A soft grunt would escape through her nose with a sigh when the antiseptic would touch the wound. The question made the Zeltron think a few moments. "I... can't say for sure. Never got myself into such situations before..." Something in the mirror must've caught Kori's attention again, because she stared at it blankly for a few moments more. Or perhaps it was her doubting her own conclusion. "On second thought, I may have crossed a thug or two..." she pondered outloud, quickly adding: "Over the years at the police academy, and after that."

When Ryv was done with cleaning the wound, she'd finally be able to turn her face to him, and not just look at him askew. The compliment and the light sarcasm associated with it made Kori's smile wider. "If anything, meeting a thug on Coruscant doesn't surprise me. Especially below the top levels. Meeting a Ryv Karis is much less likely." The question implied in the statement remained unasked.

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Eh, we do our best," Ryv chuckled. "The least I can do is help you out, considering I didn't stop the jerk from throwing the glass in the first place."

The "it might hurt a little" never came. His focus shifted to cleaning the wound rather than the typical bedside manner one might expect from a doctor. That was more in the range of a skilled healer or nurse. The Sword shined elsewhere. The extent of his healing came in the form of battlefield medicine, which he deployed with haste. He dabbed the cut carefully, wiping away the blood with a sanitized swab meant to cleanse it of any built-up germs. Infection was best fought through pro-active measures like prevention, after all.

He had it disinfected and bandaged in no time, which allowed for the Zeltron's focus to zero in on him. The Jedi Knight never did like it when his mind wandered aimlessly through recent history. It always left him with a sour mood.

"I wish I could say running into you was an everyday thing," he smiled, the flirting almost second nature at this point. "But uh- yeah, I guess I'm not your everyday visitor."

Ryv moved around the chair and leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest.

"Truth be told, I just happened to be down here. I grew up on the lower levels. It wasn't until I moved back to Coruscant after a few years on Nar Shaddaa did I wind up livin' high on the upper levels. I still make my way down here when I can. Lots of folks need help. It makes for rather eventful evenings," a smirk found its way back onto the Jedi's lips.

This wasn't his first barroom brawl since he'd returned to Coruscant years ago. Hell, it wasn't his first since he woke up a few weeks back in the Temple medical bay.

"You got somewhere safe to stay?" he inquired. "I wouldn't wanna be cooped up in the lower levels if folks are willin' to swipe me from my job. Doesn't seem smart."

He looked past her to the curtain. For a moment, his brow furrowed and a flash of something crossed behind his charming demeanor. Pain, perhaps? It disappeared just as quickly as it came.

"You're welcome to stay at my place if need be. I don't use it much given all my Jedi responsibilities and all that," he chuckled. "It's got a pretty solid security system, plus, you know, it isn't on the lower levels. There's also the Jedi Temple, though. We've got plenty of rooms for folks who need 'em."

Nykoria Tallis ​

 

[Nykoria Tallis]

A brief chuckle escaped through Kori's sealed lips after the Jedi's flirty remark. Luckily, she had just the reply, which she delivered with a smile of her own: "The rarity is what makes it special." The Zeltron listened to Ryv's story and his reasons for being at the lower levels. People needing help in particular. "Yeah, I can attest to that," she replied rather calmly, but with a joking undertone to it.

For a while, Kori peered in the mirror, examining the bandage on her forehead. It looked almost like a headband of some sort, the white cloth contrasting with the purple skin and the black dress. Not the accessory the Zeltron would've chosen, but she'd have to make do. That's when Ryv drew Kori's attention to a more urgent problem: where to go after the club. At least a dozen of thoughts crossed Kori's mind. Amidst all that, the brief emotional shift within the Jedi remained almost unnoticed.

Nykoria was busy with concerns of her own. Suddenly, going home and bringing potential trouble to her family seemed like a bad idea, as Ryv pointed out astutely. Luckily, he also offered options. "I thought I'd just go home, but it might not be the best idea," the Zeltron took a deep breath, letting the air escape through her nose slowly. "Thanks for the offer... It's very generous." She scratched her neck briefly, giving it some thought: "If it's not too much to ask, any place where I can get a shower, spend the night, and change into something would do. I've... Also actually been meaning to visit the Temple... Eventually. So, uh... Whatever option is fine by me."

Kori wasn't quite certain how to elaborate on her run-in with another Jedi earlier, and what it had resulted in. Even if she had built up trust in her rescuer, the whole thing was a lot to take in or cover just like that.

Ryv