Lord of Refuge
Jasper was a man who made good on his word. When he said that he owed someone a drink, that was a debt he intended to pay back. Fortunately there was a small dive bar in the area that he had been to before. They had some Vaschean Rye in reserve last he had been there, and he was hoping that they still had some in their store. The joint itself wasn't anything special, low hanging lights and an open ceiling. It was purposefully kept dark to either enhance the mood or hide the lack of cleaning in regards to the floor. It was made up of a small bar and no more than five booths tucked away in the corner, a real hole-in-the-wall establishment if their ever was one. The Jedi Master would hold the door open for Saram before he made his way over to the bar and slipped onto a stool.
"You know, this place actually looks cleaner than the last time I was here," he noted with some amusement before he turned to the bartender. "Any Vaschean in the back?"
"Aye, got two at least."
"I'll take a glass of that," Jasper quickly decided.
The Jedi Master wasted very little time making himself comfortable, leaning against the bartop before he let out an exhale.
"I imagine I come off as quite strange, yeah?" he remarked, though not with any edge in his tone. In fact he seemed rather jovial. "Don't imagine a Jedi's ever bought you a drink before. Then again, I think I've been a bit separated from the traditionalists of the Core for a while now."