Riskyr fell silent as, oddly enough, the bedraggled, spice-addict-looking human, of all people, had seemed to become the center of attention between the mysterious Force-user and the cloaked, partially dirt-strewn soldiers that were still blocking the alleyway behind the Cathar and her black-armored soldiers. Suddenly feeling ill-at-ease, the petite teen took a step back away from the unkempt one - Jagen, yes, that's what he was called. The name didn't seem all-too-familiar to the Bothan, and she wondered how such an unimpressive-looking fellow could warrant so much attention, from an out-of-place, Sith-inspired Dark Jedi with her own personal soldiers as well as an organization of other troopers with rare, potentially experimental cloaking technology was beyond the teen's ability to comprehend, at last until the current headache that was her damaged ship was out of the way, and perhaps after a proper meal, but that last one could wait until this encounter was over. Turning her thoughts away from Breaded Dianoga Tentacles and an Acklay Steak, the youth was stunned to witness the Cathar Dark Force User address this "Jagen Danner" as a person of great importance, despite his somewhat bedraggled appearance.
The mention of Hutts sent a nervous shiver down the fur of the Bothan's back, the leather of her jacket rustling as she hugged the garment around herself instinctively, as though to stave off a deeper chill in the winter air. Riskyr's thoughts were interrupted as the short wannabe-Sith turned and addressed her, personally, even as their hands lightly clasped and shook as the Bothan numbly remembered to offer a shy and nervous, though polite proper greeting. One of her tapered, creamy-tan ears twitched atop her head, her puzzled and amazed mind still off-put by this turn of events, even as her growing nervousness made her glance all-the-more frequently back at the cloaked soldiers, trying to appear as nonchalant with those looks as possible, so as not to provoke them. Her eyes brightened as she listened to the Cathar's words, a hand adjusting her Cancer Stick in her mouth before she took a long, purposeful and relaxing pull from the last remnant of her cigarra. Flicking the butt of the cylinder onto the ground, the Bothan exhaled the last of the smoke from her nostrils as slowly as she had inhaled it, mentally puzzling over the other female's words as she finished speaking naught but a second later. In spite of her nervousness over the mention of Hutts, however...
Her Chandrilan-accented voice was as soft and demure as ever, barely above a whisper so as to keep the conversation as personal as possible that no others might overhear. "Revan, the Prodigal Knight? Malak?" The lanky Bothan took a second to rub her fingers over her eyes, "This is too much... If only my damn ship wasn't in for repairs, a the moment, to say nothing of contacting Dad..."
The Bothan huffed, more annoyed at the fact that her ship was temporarily down then at the potential for danger. So lost in thought was this youth that she seemed to be almost hyper-focused on the Cathar before her, ignoring the rest of the eclectic group that surrounded them for the time being. This was a PERFECT (well, almost perfect, besides the dangers posed by the involvement of Hutts) opportunity to learn about more then one philosophy of the Force, if all of this was true... "Madame, I must say that, despite our not having met before, this... Wow..." The lanky teen's mouth spread in another left-sided grin, "At the very least, I've got to get a secure means to talk to you, in some way... I'm a traveling storyteller and scholar, you see..." There was another pause, followed by a snort of excited laughter from the Bothan, as she once again opened her mouth, "I can't go into too much detail, but... But... If you can prove to me, somehow, at a neutral location, that what you're saying is the truth, then... Even if I weren't interested in whatever you'd otherwise propose, then I must say that, strictly in a confidential and neutral, peaceful manner, that I'd like to exchange knowledge and philosophies of the Force with you... As long as we get no problems from the Empire, I'll be happy even to exchange code cylinders and data chips with you... An oppourtunity like this, one-on-one, doesn't come along this wonderfully, so often... All I need, when you're through with this guy-" she inclined her gray thumb at the potential Spicer at her side, "-is a few hours of your free time, with our clothes on, and we need never see each other again, if need be."
Riskyr turned her attention to the stocky-looking, armored Commander of the cloaked troops, fixing the older man with a cautious look, "I don't know what your game is, friend, but, as you're from the Core, if you're a friend of the Empire, then it's best that you and I give each other a wide, wide berth.."
With her signature left-sided smile, the Bothan slipped her hand over one side of her mouth, discreetly and softly speaking to Jagen, "Fame is overrated, if you want my two credits on this matter... Also, I hope you're not a friend of the Empire, too..." Cautiously, the Bothan gave a polite nod to the trooper on one side of the Cathar, then sidled over to lean her back against the doorway, resting jest next to the open frame, in case she did, in the end, need to duck into it for cover. She watched the Directorate Commander suspiciously, an ear twitching as she listened to his words, her eyes traveling over towards the Zabrak, the Urchin and the others, civilian, trooper and otherwise, who had gathered to watch this unfolding spectacle. Riskyr shifted closer to the door, leery over this many civilians and weapons becoming so... So apparant, especially with her practically being the center of attention herself, as close as she was to the parties involved in... Whatever this was.
(Grr... I thought this post sucked, for some reason... x.x )
