Stars, hide your fires

[Loske Treicolt]

Gaze flicked skyward, marking the cross beams of the cafeteria. This was like, the second time she'd been asked if she was a Sith Spy. Maybe she should really start to consider it. An exhale snuck out of her nostrils and she lowered her blue gaze to meet emerald - completely somber.

"I'm sorry."

​

"I'm absolutely not. The Sith Academy was," she drew a horizontal line with her hand with speed, still keeping her elbow on the table "way too strict for me." Lips pursed before unfolding again into a thin smile and she pushed her now empty plate away. Her middle finger and thumb snapped together to emphasize her next point. "I was kicked out like that."

With her meal finished, her payment was complete.

"Other than wearing a mask, what's the number one sneaky technique you could pass on to a reject spy like me."

​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

“Yeah, you honestly don’t strike me as the Sith type. No black clothes. No lamenting about your dark and brutal past - not to mention you know what a joke is,” Darius pointed out, a hint of a laugh following his words. “I suppose I’m being a little over suspicious.” He shrugged in defeat.

He paused for a few moments, hewing his food thoughtfully as he mused her question. The processes of training proper infiltrators and Jedi Shadows we’re fundamentally different. They sought to accomplish the same goals, but one moved far differently when aided by the force than otherwise. Some skills were redundant, others counterintuitive to one another.

Even still, he supposed he owed her a proper answer. “Charisma,” he finally spoke, “That’s the greatest quality one can have. Stealth isn’t so much being unseen, and more people never remembering you were there in the first place. If you know how to play your role properly, no one will register your existence.” His brow furrowed as he appraised the pilot, “I don’t think you’d have too much trouble in that department.”



[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Or not suspicious enough." Loske countered [member="Darius Sedaire"]'s statement. "Being the complete inverse of expectations would make me that much more effective at my job, no?" A brow quirked and she smirked wryly.

She drummed her palms against the table. "And what's the worst quality to have when running a covert mission? Be it yourself, or your cover?" She shifted her weight "I ask because I've really only been on one infiltration mission, or, planned on it. It was diverted before actualized and my stealth master accomplice was worried about having to keep an eye on too many renegades who could ruin the mission."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"You make a solid point," he relented, "It really depends on the situation, and that comes down to your own personal ability to read it. I don't think there's all that much I can teach you on that subject. The only way to learn is through experience, and something tells me you already have a good bit of it."

The fat old Togorian came waddling up to the table. She said nothing, opting to simply stand there staring at them, her wrinkled hands occasionally pulling at one of the many chins that hung from her swollen neck.

Darius ignored her. "The worst quality is absolutely overconfidence mixed with rigidity. Too often have master strokes been ruined because someone felt the need to show off, or to reveal themselves simply to show their enemy just how stupid they are upon their exit. The rigidity comes in when one considers the chaos of a stealth oriented mission. People that can't improvise don't last long as agents of any kind of subtlety."

The Togorian coughed. "Y'know we're cleanin' up all the other tables," she sounded unhappy, "...You two gonna move yer shebs, or are ya just gonna take up space? My shift don't end 'till ya can see your face in the tables."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The ponytailed pilot looked up at the Togorian, and wrapped her fingers around her tray, backing out from the bench to stand.

"But if we leave, then how will you know you can see our faces in the tables?"

Frank honked irritatedly, knocking against her calf to indicate that was severely unnecessary. She buckled slightly, and lifted the tray as a gesture to the woman with an appreciative grin "Thanks for the roll, we'll leave you be." Stepping away before she could receive a prod from the cook, she maneuvered around the rows of tables to align with her tourguide for the afternoon.

"I hope The New Republic can ruffle a few more Sith feathers. They've been on too much of an upswing since The Alliance broke - any more adversaries can only hope to distress them. If it helps, I can offer contract services when it's useful against Sith TIEs and such - so long as your objectives aren't clashing with any of mine." She set the tray down in a designated dirty area, and brushed her palms together.