Sor-Jan Xantha
Got Soup?
"Oh?" the young Anzat mused aloud. No, he supposed not. Trends and fads were a game for the young. He'd need more of the teenage or twenty-something crowd to get a pulse on what was cool in Theed these days. A diplomatic soire such as this one was great for business, but not so much for getting a concept of potential markets.
Regardless, it seemed that the viceroy was a poet. The way he spoke of the arts could have inspired some Jedi Consulars that the boy had met. Of course, Sor-Jan had often been mistaken for one on more than one occasion owing to his green bladed lightsaber.
Then he found himself removed from his shoulder-mounted pedestal and returned to the ground. Maybe he should have been grateful for the reprieve, but to be honest he'd rather enjoyed that it had been an altogether different affair than he'd anticipated. Usually, when he attended these things, people had no idea how to react to him. It was either a fear or anxiety about finding a kid at the adult table, which the Anzat was not above exploiting when it was useful to him.
And, now he was removing his jacket.
Ah, now Sor-Jan understood. Draconis was a bodybuilder. Fascinating. Jedi certainly maintained a certain level of fitness, but such a body culture was unknown to them. "Impressive," the boy commented, acknowledging the man's art.
"I'm an engineer," the boy remarked in answer. "My art usually involves putting something together, but I'm much better at taking them apart."
Or blowing them up. Definitely better at blowing them up.