Private Keep Your Eyes Peeled

[Niysha]

Minwu's Place, Volach Sector, Nar Shaddaa
Aadihr Lidos​

Of all the places Niysha had ever been, Nar Shaddaa probably had the strangest appearance. There was so much teeming life packed so tightly that it was impossible to escape the raw, overpowering aura of the entire moon... and that moon was stone dead. No, that was inaccurate. Stones were far less dead. It was slightly unpleasant, but distinctly interesting. It was in many ways a perfect mirror of Vestar, which had been overflowing with tiny, insignificant life but with a screaming, dark soul; the Smuggler's Moon was thick to choking with vibrant, sentient life, but so hollow that Niysha thought she might hear an echo if she called out.

And that was on a busy street!

Correct but imprecise. Every street was extremely busy. Niysha normally had to work at least a little bit to become invisible, but here, surrounded by the endless teeming masses, she was practically a ghost. It was a relief. She still kept her presence buried and her lightsaber stowed in her bag; after three or four mistakes varying from irritating to costly, Niysha had decided she was taking exactly zero chances. A thousand thousand Twi'leks and Nikto and Gran and so, so many humans might have been excellent to physically disappear into, but it wasn't the civilians she needed to look out for. One more tangle with a surprise Sith Lord or a wildly out-of-place Jedi and she might very well wind up a smoking pile.

For the moment, Niysha sat at one of many stools in front of a small, out-of-the-way noodle shop. Volach Sector was an unimportant residential area that a very large number of nobody lived in. There was a bit of neon - it was impossible to miss, and made picking out where to eat very simple amid a stifling crowd of infinite souls - but in general the whole area seemed less polished than the brighter thoroughfares near the Red Sector and other more interesting areas. It was a great place to start her search, though there was little reason to believe what she was looking for had any greater chance of being here than it did anywhere else on the moon.

Minwu herself was a very impressive chef. The general vibe of the noodle shop was a beloved local joint. It was nestled between an electronics workshop and what looked to be an old storehouse, both of which were closed this late at night. There might've been a half-dozen swoop bikes parked within Niysha's resting range, and excluding passing foot traffic, possibly two dozen people in the same area. Three of them were partaking of this old Twi'lek's delicious noodles along with Niysha. It was a very exclusive club.

Late into the night of the busiest moon in the galaxy, Niysha tapped her datapad idly and peeled through a few more of the old document scans she'd downloaded before she left In with the Dancer. She had a day or two on planet while her captain handled the boring but very important business of... well, business. Niysha meant to make use of every second of that, no matter how many... extremely shifty Rodians fully armed with blaster pistols and mean-mugging the shop she was still keeping watch on just a few meters away.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Minwu's Place, Volach Sector, Nar Shaddaa

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The noodle bar had good broth. That much he could tell from the scent—salt, spice, oil that hadn’t turned, and steam that hadn’t yet stolen the flavor it carried. A bit too much salt, maybe. But that was just a guess. He wasn't focusing his sight on the ingredients.

He walked like he had no destination. One hand rested lightly on his walking stick, the other brushed a faded wall for show. He and made sure the world saw him as just a blind man. Some people gave him space. Would try to trip him and see if he stumbled. He never did.

Aadihr paused outside the bar and let the warmth of the storefront’s neon glow hit his skin - invisibly. Seemingly hollow glass of transparent inorganics through the force blending with the many other translucent structures carrying living lights within. The rising towers and levels of the smuggler's moon were like a star filled sky, each pinprick of light through the ghostly city tied to an entire consciousness with as much complexity and depth as he has ever known. Once, it may have been overwhelming for him. Now it was simply vibrant. Kaleidoscopic.

He had not come to the noodle bar to watch strangers in high rises, however. He came to the midpoint of where several of those lights bled with hostile intent, rippling patterns of impending violence. To 'accidentally' stumble into the epicenter and intervene one way or another. He didn't have a plan. Then again, he seldom did.

A dozen minds clustered near the edge of action, tension dragging behind them like oil leaking under a speeder chassis, waiting for a spark to ignite. He could feel it running thin across the street.

The stall itself was crowded, but mostly calm. He stepped forward, a slight bow of his head in apology as he passed by a woman tapping her datapad. Didn’t recognize her, nor bother to spare a glance at her physical outline through the force, the blindfold, the lack of eyes. He didn't linger long enough notice the woman with the hidden presence, another of his kind, both far from Alpheridies.

The seat he chose was just off-center. Near the kitchen window, in clear view of the alley. Not the best acoustics for a conversation, but ideal for intervention reaction. His stick clacked softly as he leaned it against the counter.

“Whatever the cook recommends,” he ordered, voice low, polite, absent from himself, his focus elsewhere quite literally.

To anyone looking, he seemed serene. But his presence in the Force told a different story. He wasn’t hiding it. He never really had to.

A pale, flickering light clung to him—a Jedi, unmistakably so, but volatile, in a constant state of flux until the minute he was in position. Only then did it steady, stabilized by guiding purpose, tempered with the anticipation of danger. It was not a comforting thing, It was a flame that burned into himself if it didn't have external fuel – evidently feeding off the anxious and eager hostile presence of the gangs—Rodian, Trandoshan, Gammorrean, Nikto. A diverse cast of soon-to-be combatants nearing the diner.

The snowy-haired Miraluka was wound tight. Tighter than it should’ve been. A coil, silent and still, bracing for release.

They’re going to make their move soon. Too much patience for street muscle. Too many passes. None of them have ordered anything in five minutes.

He avoided turning his face towards any of the suspicious persons.

A Noodle Bowl was placed in front of him.

“Stars above—if anyone else walks in blindfolded, I’m charging extra for menus in braille!”
Minwu barked a laugh, flicking her ladle toward the counter as she glanced between the two.
“Hope you’ve both got good noses. I don’t do refunds if you slurp the wrong bowl.”

Only then did Aadihr notice...
Another Miraluka?

A blaster fired.
A bolt whizzed overhead.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

No hits so far. Niysha continued searching. It might have been a very, very long time ago, and the buildings were absolutely repurposed - as everything eventually was in an ecumenopolis - but there was still a Sith academy here at one point. There had to be at least some bones left for her to pick clean. Other parts of the galaxy managed to have thousands upon thousands of years of total isolation and remain perfectly intact, but here, in the mess, there wasn't even a single-

"Mmph." Niysha was gently bumped by a new patron. He murmured an apology, she murmured one right back.

...And very, very quickly realized what she was talking to. Niysha tried very hard not to change her demeanor, not to stop occasionally picking at her noodles or fiddling with her datapad. The second she did, she might draw attention, and that was the last thing she wanted with a Jedi nearby. The thugs across the street were officially the least of her concerns. All they had were blasters and bad attitudes; Jedi had senses, and that meant trouble.

This one was... actually, he looked to be about as much Jedi as Niysha was Sith. While his aura was both intense and defined, the shades were far too pale. Watered down. When he came to a rest, it sparked into a fire that roared cleanly into a very bright pyre of energy. And all of it was just a bit too muted for a proper Jedi. Not like Valery's blinding inferno, not even like Aliris' gentle bonfire; whoever this man was, there was a personal and fundamental weakness in him that shaped his entire being. All the way up to his-

Eyes?

Niysha found herself gawking at the stranger at the exact same moment she noticed he was staring back at her. Two blindfolded idiots meeting in the same noodle hut in the middle of the night. For a moment that seemed like an eternity, she just processed the information in front of her. For the first time in her life, she might actually have physically, in-person, met another of her kind. She started to put away her datapad and stand, the swirling tide of excitement dangerously close to dulling her good sense, when she heard blaster fire.

It was Nar Shaddaa. She'd expected blaster fire, though not in this little speck of nowhere. Within a heartbeat of the first shot screaming into the night, Niysha had vaulted over the counter, ducking down for cover. The grizzled old Twi'lek on the other side ducked down and started fiddling with her scattergun, and Niysha had no reason to interrupt her. Instead, she put one finger to her lips in a quiet "shhh" and gave herself space to concentrate.

Her vision expanded. She could manage full radial awareness out to a robust range, but this wasn't the time for range. She needed precision. Focusing in closer, within a twenty meters, she swam through the scattering tide of life around her to pick out every little bubble of hostility. The scream of a swoop bike tearing off down the street set at least a few of the men outside Minwu's Place after that, but the majority seemed fine to just stand around and fill the air with plasma, trying gleefully to kill each other.

The occasional bolt pinged off of the bartop. Niysha bided her time between them, waited for an opening, and the moment she felt safe enough to do so, stood just far enough to grab her bag from the floor on the other side of the counter, then slip back into safety. A moment later, two bolts left scorch marks right where her head and throat had been.

Hmm. Draw attention or no? She could let this play out, be safe about it... but she actually wanted to talk to the Jedi after he was done sorting this out. "A bit violent here, Master Jedi!" Niysha shouted over the sound of the firefight. "We'd all appreciate it if you could do something about that!"

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

HEAT & LIGHT

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The blaster bolt snapped through the air just over his shoulder, carving a hot trail through the bar’s signage.

Aadihr didn't flinch.

He turned slightly, one hand reaching out, and caught the second bolt mid-arc with his palm—quickly deflected upward into an overhanging light, showering sparks and maybe dimming the lights for the attackers. Aadihr didn't know how well lit the place was, but it was worth trying.

Tutaminis—deflection specifically—good for show. Better for keeping people alive.

Another bolt ricocheted nearby, and now people were screaming. Chairs overturned. Minwu shouted a curse and racked her scattergun beneath the counter, firing over the stall of the bar. Somewhere behind him, someone ducked and sprinted. Someone else didn’t duck fast enough.

And then—

"A bit violent here, Master Jedi!"

Aadihr paused.

"How in the hells—"

He turned his head slightly. Didn’t face her directly. That voice—definitely the other Miraluka. The same one he'd brushed past earlier. The one he hadn't even noticed properly because he’d been too busy reading violent intent. And somehow, she’d identified him as a Jedi without so much as word.

That’s suspicious... Then again, I’ve never really seen what my aura looks like, I can’t exactly use a mirror-

A streak of red whizzed past, interrupting the thought.

...did she say 'master Jedi'?

Perhaps it was convenient flattery, perhaps a turn of phrase – but another Miraluka reading his presence as a Master was received as a compliment by the Jedi Knight.

A Slugthrower round pinged off his pike - a careless deflection; if he had used his hand, he'd be short a few fingers... Again. He adjusted his grip on the pike.

A Gamorrean brute tried to cross the street, likely aiming for the opposing gang’s flank. Wrong place, wrong time.

Aadihr reached without the Force.

He grabbed the hot bowl of noodles still steaming on the counter—and hurled it.

The ceramic struck the Gamorrean dead in the face, broth and spice splashing across his snout. The creature roared and staggered backward, blinded.

Aadihr was already moving.

He closed the distance in three fast steps, spun the unlit haft of his pike in a practiced arc, and cracked it across the thug’s shoulder. The hit sent the brute spinning, crashing into a parked swoop.

A blaster fired again—this time closer.

Aadihr turned with a smooth pivot, lifted his left hand, and redirected another bolt with his palm.

He exhaled slowly. Rolled his neck.

Then called out, loud enough for the noodle shop to hear—

“This isn’t the kind of spicy I came for!”
A lie, of course. It was precisely why he was here.

He swept his pike haft in a wide arc, striking a Trandoshan’s leg out from under him as the lizard tried to sprint past – and unceremoniously stomping the knee to break the joint. Pain was fine. Injury a deterrent. A hypocrisy he'd learned to accept in his worldview. Divine contradiction.

Then, he continued:

“You called me 'Master Jedi'... Is that your way of asking for help or trying to get me shot first!?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. But the grin he wore as he pivoted again was unmistakable.

He was enjoying himself. At least a little.

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Oh, she'd got his attention, alright.

Niysha beamed to herself from her very safe position behind the noodle counter. She couldn't very well hide from someone else for whom the world was a transparent series of soft lines, even if her presence was as diminished as she could make it. Well... that wasn't quite accurate. She probably could've gone a little quieter, though that tended to make her fingers and toes go numb. Not the sort of thing to worry about in the middle of a firefight.

Minwu snuck a peek over the top of the counter, and was quickly startled back down as a blaster bolt scorched its way across the surface just a few centimeters from her head, spouting an immediate curse. Niysha took note of that for a moment, then consciously and physically turned to face her, holding up one finger in the universal signal for "wait."

Even without her saber drawn, Niysha didn't have much to fear from most blasters. Being able to see every single bolt from ignition to terminus, from every angle and at every point in their trajectory meant that all she normally had to do was not be where they were hitting. Minwu clearly didn't have that advantage... but after a few seconds, when the storm of fire above them reached a momentary calm and Niysha signaled her, the Twi'lek could borrow it for a bit. She stood up and squeezed off two loud, cracking shots from her scattergun, then ducked back into the safety of cover behind the bar.

Niysha flashed her a gentle grin, then leaned back and took a deep breath, releasing her awareness into the infinite mass of the galaxy for just a moment. Endless empty darkness upon endless empty darkness filled with the tiniest, most infantessimal points of light greeted the swirling cloud of animated emotions and vague desires that had once been housed in the shell of Niysha. Within that darkness was one specific point of light among an eternity. Orbiting that tiny dot of brightness was a speck of dust glowing with its own tiny sun worth of lights. Upon that pebble was an anthill made of durasteel and glass, and within the micro-circuitry of that little marble was a noodle shop. The unburdened gasp of the Force's breath that sometimes humored itself with the identity of Niysha swam through the endless, sprawling, fractal chaos of that noodle shop for a heartbeat, then two.

When she found what she was looking for - one single mote of cacophonic possibility - she fell back into herself.

The moment was important. Niysha looked around in the kitchen she was taking shelter in for just a second before picking up a platter, standing amid a firestorm, and hurling it like a frisbee somewhere off vaguely up the street. The dish was barely in the air for more than a second before she had ducked down behind the bar to, once again, not get fried to a crisp by blaster fire. It was in the air only a second more before it found its target.

Swoop gangs came in, well, gangs. There were some late-arrival reinforcements. One unfortunate Weequay at the front of the pack got hit square in the chest by the flat of the dish as it spun through the air, and with a jolt, his muscles reflexively gripped the handlebars of his bike. He veered to the left, catching another bike, which in turn veered to the right. All three were sent tumbling in a sparking mess, the wreckage flying into visually fantastic shrapnel as it leveled the area, taking another half-dozen gangers - or bounty hunters? - with the three unfortunates at the epicenter of the crash.

When the chaos was complete, Niysha sat up high enough to be visible over the bar, gave a bright grin and a thumbs-up to the other Miraluka, then returned to hiding.

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The swoop gang wreck exploded with a shriek of metal and a slow, stuttering fireball that spat sparks down the street. Aadihr spared the wreck only a flicker of attention—just long enough to confirm none of the crashee's needed urgent healing.

He turned, reaching calmly to catch a barstool flipping end-over-end through the smoke.

She aimed that platter across the street in a firefight.
Nice.

A thug came up from the alley behind him, swinging a rusted pipe. Aadihr sidestepped, brought the haft of his pike down on the attacker’s foot, and without breaking pace, cracked the end of it across the man’s temple.

“Impressive throw.” he called over his shoulder toward the bar,
“You with the local shockball league, or just hurl dishes for fun?”

A blaster shot zipped past his ribs—close enough to send a burn line through his side. He inhaled through clenched teeth, hand flexing in slow, meditative rhythm, without staggering. Just turning his torso slightly, rotating the sting through his spine and let it settle into the pain map already etched across his body. Pain was a familiar dialect. It didn’t speak louder than curiosity.

A Nikto vaulted over a crate, screaming. Aadihr jabbed the end of his staff into the man’s sternum mid-air, pivoted him sideways into the wall, then swept low with a casual blow that tripped the Nikto, their head cracking the edge of the bar on the way down.

“I’m Aadihr, by the way.” he continued, as if the scream and the crunch hadn’t just happened.
“You don’t meet many of us off-world. I wasn’t expecting one to show up in a noodle bar brawl.”

A chair hit his shoulder. He ignored it. The Rodian that threw it hesitated a moment, unsure whether to grab another chair or return to the firefight.
Evidently, they elected for the chair as a blast from Minwu's scattergun rendered the decision a moot point.

"Were you born on Alpheridies, or your parents?" he asked, suddenly more interested in potentially talking about home than the violence surrounding him. He leaned back just before a slug punched a hole in the stall where his head was a moment prior.

“You got a name? Or are we keeping this whole cosmic coincidence anonymous?”

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

There was such a distinct, shocking difference between Niysha's general vibe when she was engaging in casual mania in a low-risk (for a trained Sith) environment as compared to facing down Sith Lords and Jedi Masters. When the other Miraluka cracked wise, she found herself giggling and joining in without a second thought. Her composure was slipping, but it was hard to notice that when you were genuinely thrilled.

"Thanks!" she replied back to the compliment, as close to a shout as she could manage. "I'm Niysha!" A couple of blaster bolts spanged off of the countertop, harmlessly ricocheting into the kitchen wall. At a dedicated pace, Niysha reached into her bag and retrieved her stunner. If it could drop an akk dog in a shot or two, it would certainly give a couple of Rodians one very impressive hangover.

When the weapons discharge flying over her head settled down for a moment, Niysha popped up and squeezed off a couple of shots at the closest, easiest to hit thugs. She even managed to get one that was closing in on Aadihr, though he would probably have been fine. After her successful counterattack, she returned to cover.

"I'd love to gush about my whole life story, but maybe not during a firefight? It's really hard to talk this loud!" Every word she managed came out cracking with strain to reinforce her point. Also, she'd need to find a place where no one was, just in case Aadihr lost his mind a little bit when she... Bogan, was she really planning on coming clean about her upbringing immediately? To a complete stranger? With a really interesting, very nuanced, maybe a little bit sexy aura?

Oh, In was never going to let her live that one down.

Niysha's vision was swimming at the moment, but even amid dozens of screaming and/or fighting lives, certain things stood out much more brightly. In this case, a security speeder, carrying at least four patrol droids and what looked like a living supervisor or two. They had maybe... thirty, forty-five seconds? By then it would be on them, and Niysha would be very, very glad she didn't lead off with "Oh yeah I'm actually kind of a Sith and I'm here looking for ancient evil rocks. Look at my extremely cool lightsaber that will make everyone in a kilometer radius duck for cover and call the police."

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

“Niysha.” He repeated it with a faint nod, as if bookmarking her name mid-brawl.

A blaster bolt cracked the ground beside his foot. Another zipped past his ear. Aadihr casually stepped sideways, lifted his hand, and caught the third—an orange streak of plasma arrested in his palm, sizzled to nothing, and dispersed as golden sparks.

That one was probably for her.

“Appreciate the backup,” he added, just loud enough to reach her cover. “That one looked chatty.”

Three more thugs barreled into the fray from the far end—desperate, disorganized. Aadihr met the charge with the sort of half-hearted efficiency reserved for brushing lint off a robe. One he spun by the collar and flipped face-first into a countertop. The second clipped him in the ribs with a punch that should’ve folded a lesser man. Aadihr barely reacted. His free hand just caught the thug’s wrist and twisted it with clinical, almost gentle pressure until the man yelped and dropped—soundlessly, once the back of his head found the corner of a fryer.

He exhaled, lips barely parted.

Forty seconds. Maybe less.

He could feel the speeder—its shape, its motion. Four patrol droids, maybe five. Human driver. Protocol profile. Not here to talk.

“We’ve got incoming,” he said aloud, angling a nod toward the front of the shop. “Time to pick: vanish, talk, or hide behind the stunned ones and fake getting zapped.”

A pan clanged off the wall near his head. He batted it aside with the back of his pike.

“If it helps, I’m partial to option two, I'm a bit rusty with the pseudo seizure routine.”

He turned slightly to face her cover more fully now, sidestepping a pair of panicked gang members bolting for the kitchen. One slipped on spilled broth and screamed into a pile of shattered crockery.

“You’ve got good timing, good aim, and the energy of someone who absolutely didn’t come here for soup.”

And your aura hasn't shifted an inch this entire time - just off a completely neutral hue...

He let his tone ease into something that nearly counted as a smile. Just audible above the growing sirens:

“So—talk after? If you’re still around once the droids are done rubbernecking.”

Then he turned sharply, jabbed the butt of his staff into a fallen swooper’s elbow to keep them down, and called over his shoulder with a final note of dry composure—

“Assuming this place survives the next three minutes.”

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Aadihr had noted the patrol. Of course he had. He was like her. He was like her, so of course he'd noticed the patrol.

Niysha took another deep breath to calm her nerves, shockingly unaware of the knowledge that letting herself appear as flustered by meeting a brave young man of her own species might be a good idea for blending in. Rather than, say, maintaining a perfectly neutral, barely-sensitive facade at all times, regardless of circumstance. In fact, Aadihr might have had some unique insight on that angle. He was from Alpheridies. He had seen other Miraluka before. Niysha honestly and earnestly had no idea that registering as a normal person with low sensitivity to the Force was aberrant for their species.

Aadihr was busy tangling with a group of thugs in melee in a shockingly similar mirror to how Niysha fought. His movements were gentle and detached, more preemptively responding lazily to things that occurred to him the moment before they started to happen than reacting frantically like normal people did. It was a bit surreal to see from the outside. Did she always look this cool, or was that just him?

He missed one, or possibly sent one flying into a puddle of soup. Niysha was already standing up with a pan in both hands when the Klatooinian stumbled forwards into the kitchen. Her baseball swing resounded across the man's face with a mighty clang, and when his body flew back onto the street outside, she gave a bright smile to her impromptu companion.

"I'd be lying if I said my first instinct wasn't to run and/or hide, but I get that you probably want to talk to the officers, Master Jedi," Niysha answered more softly than before, her voice down to a more comfortable quiet, warm level now that the shooting was done. Despite her choice of words, she didn't have a mocking tone. "I'll follow your lead. In my capacity as a civilian who just wanted a quiet place to eat some soup and study a little."

Accurate, but imprecise; that was what she was doing, but she was only currently a "civilian," and her studies were hardly mundane.

Aadihr Lidos

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The Klatooinian hit the ground with a wheeze and a ladle imprint. Aadihr lifted his chin faintly toward the kitchen.

“That was a solid swing. I think my credits are still on the shockball league.”

He stepped over a groaning Rodian and calmly adjusted the hang of his robes. The little bar was a mosaic of overturned stools, spilled broth, and still-steaming dumplings scattered like dropped blaster rounds. It looked like it had just barely survived a low-budget martial arts holodrama shoot.

Sirens curled around the block now. Too close for denial. Aadihr let out a quiet breath.

“I’m not one for titles,” he said as he approached her, tone easing into something softer—something meant to land just below the noise, where meaning lived. “And I’ve not earned ‘Master’ anything, just Aadihr is fine.”

He crouched to nudge an unconscious Nikto out of the main walkway, using the interim of calm to stabilize the worst of the injuries, healing partially, giving of his own life force to correct some of the wounds he (and the Minwa and Niysha) inflicted.

He then straightened and tapped the side of his walking stick against the floor with an audible tokk—a quiet call to order in the chaos.

“But I do know how to talk to peace officers when the walls are smoking and nobody wants to be blamed.” His head turned just slightly. “You mind playing the part of quiet, helpful witness who had the good sense to duck?”

He offered her a ghost of a smile. Not smug. Not assuming. Just faintly amused—like a man who’d done this song and dance a few too many times to sweat it now.

“If you don’t want to be noticed, I can cover for you. But…” He paused, one brow lifting beneath the blindfold. “…if you do want to be noticed—” He gestured lightly toward the open street and the approaching patrol speeder, “—you’ve got about twelve seconds to figure out why you were here and why they shouldn’t scan your bag.”

His tone was mild. Helpful. Not a threat, not an accusation. But the implication glimmered quietly between syllables, a hint of something ambiguous in his tone. Ambiguous, but not malicious.

“I’d still like to talk. You move like someone trained by someone dangerous.” A small, wry pause. “But you smiled like someone who desperately needed to.”

He turned toward the doorway just as the security droids began their final approach—his silhouette calm and relaxed, hand loose at his side. A practiced posture: harmless, competent, and just tired enough to be believable.

“Your call... Niysha, was it?”

Niysha​

 

[Niysha]

Mmh. Okay, the jig was up. Niysha very calmly repressed the spike of anxiety that shot through her and offered a blithe smile back to Aadihr as he approached. "I'm sure any belongings I had would be quite harmless, Aadihr," she replied, her frizzy head tilting to one side, "but I appreciate your concern. I continue to find myself consistently surprised by the pragmatism of Jedi." This was three in a row who hadn't immediately tried to eviscerate her upon finding her suspicious.

There were three things inside Niysha's bag that might have raised any kind of alarm. Of them, only one would have implicated her as an aggressor in street violence. Since she had a couple of moments before the police arrived to clean up, Niysha turned to Minwu - wonderful, dangerous, talented Minwu - and placed several hard credits on the ground while raising her finger in a quiet "shh." Shortly afterwards, she produced a lightsaber from her bag and quietly slid it into the cabinet nearby, then zipped her belongings back up and hopped over the counter once again.

The other two bits wouldn't even show up on electronics scanners, and a stun pistol was hardly incriminating. No one was going to be searching her datapad, and they likely wouldn't even understand which parts of her data were dangerous or why even if they did. Satisfied, Niysha left her bag on the ground nearby and sat quietly, waiting for the authorities to mop up what Aadihr and (to a much lesser extent) she had done.

It was very easy to look innocent when you hadn't done anything wrong. This time.

Aadihr Lidos