(Post Soundtrack: "Mistake" by Stellar)
Relief hung palpable in the air of the cantina, at least among those here with Jerek tonight. He smiled and laughed along with them when he needed, though mostly the man was simply enjoying the mood. A successful mission was one to celebrate, and those were becoming rarities around the Scar Worlds. For as much good as the Ossus Initiative did, it couldn't be everywhere or fix everything at once.
Some wounds never healed.
Tonight was a salve nonetheless. One that Atlas Drake, captain of more than just their ragtag team lately, seemed to be slathering on rather thick in his direction. Jerek sat baffled that the man had singled him out for the wingman treatment tonight. He closed his mouth when the trio of Twi'lek girls, one of them who barely looked padawan-age, gaped at him while Drake regaled them on Jerek's supposed exploits. Instead, the long-haired Jedi just adopted a wry grin, sipping on his Sonic Servodriver from time to time while Drake painted him as the hero of the hour.
"
That must have been soooo scary," the foremost of the Twi'leks declared, an orange hand pressed to the middle of her chest. She looked rather distraught over it, and Jerek wasn't certain how much of it was genuine.
Probably about as much as Drake's story.
"
Did you really fight them all one-handed?!" That was the youngest of the trio, pink skinned with a face that looked very similar to the third member. Sisters, perhaps. Her wide eyes looked up with patented adoration, her hands tightly gripping one of her lekku as if it would fall off otherwise.
For a moment, Jerek wanted to chide Drake for what the captain had gotten him into. Instead, he grinned at the girl, unwilling to shatter the illusion built up for her. "
Well, it's the honorable thing to do," he admitted, and the words sounded too humble even for him. Jerek took another sip of his drink, telling himself it was for effect and not courage. "
They wouldn't have stood a chance otherwise, you see?"
The pink girl seemed enamored by the answer, while her purple-skinned sister just gave Jerek something close to a smirk. She was the one using her drink as a shield, sipping it gently as she listened, offering only expressions as a measure of her interest or reaction. Jerek felt his eyes linger a little longer on her before drifting back to the two, more active, of his fans for the moment.
"
It's the mark of a true Disciple of the Light Hand. One in the fight, one in reserve," Jerek told them. He almost believed it himself, surprised to find how easily the words were coming to him. A benefit of the drink, or perhaps Drake's over-embellished story making it easy for him. "
If I couldn't defeat my opponent with just a hand, I wouldn't be worthy of the fight."
"
Must be a strong hand." The lead Twi'lek reached for Jerek's free hand, and he obliged by holding it up for her. He turned it over at her gentle prodding, letting her examine it. She used her fingers to trace its lines and contours, and it was then that he realized she was using it to flirt with him.
"
What happens if they shoot at you with blasters?" A new voice interjected. Her drink was on the table now, purple hands patiently folded in front of her while she waited to an answer. Not curious, but at least interested. And then, there on her face, Jerek spied the hidden tell of a grin hiding behind the placid expression.
He slipped his hand out of the orange ones, prompting a sound of protest from the young woman and a giggle from the youngest girl. It was to the cleverest of the three that he presented his hand up to, wiggling his fingers in her direction. "
Strong fist, firm touch, light hand," he intoned, as if it was a proverb of his fictional discipline. "
Just like water avoids oil, I avoid the blasters."
"
Oh come on!" The youngest was protesting, her eyes rolling even as her face wore a big grin. She wasn't so naïve, it seemed, and Jerek felt a little better now about her presence in the bar. "
Nobody just avoids blasters."
"
That's what the pirates thought, too." Jerek winked at her, sitting back up after he had leaned down, as if sharing just such a secret. His expression turned to surprise as he found his hand captured again, the trio's leader taking a far less curious approach to her examination this time.
"
He's probably a Jedi, Naya." So the clever woman had figured him out already. She didn't seem upset about it, or particularly satisfied by the conclusion. It was just an observation, and one that made Jerek wish this was a quiet caf shop instead of a noisy bar.
"
Nuh-uh, Yuuni," Naya told her sister, crossing her arms. "
Jedi don't come out here anymore! Not since they lost the war."
It was, naturally, that moment when a Jedi decided to prove Naya wrong. A violet blade erupted from the direction of the bar, turning violent quickly in a display that looked unprompted, and
very one-sided. Jerek found Naya looking at him, fear written across her eyes, while the third of their trio had her fingers clasped through his, gripping the man's hand tightly.
"
What are you going to do?" Yuuni's voice was quieter now, less assertive. Whether she was asking for her benefit or Naya's, Jerek couldn't tell.
He shook his head, shaking loose a lock of hair on his right side. Reaching across with his other hand, to allow the orange-skinned Twi'lek continued use of his, Jerek tucked the misbehaving hair back in place. "
It's Jedi business," he said. Some other Jedi's, one that Jerek would like to follow outside and ask what the kark she was thinking. In a crowded bar with lots of beings, on an asteroid world who weren't all fond of Jedi, a lightsaber was the
worst weapon to wield so casually. The Jedi drew his eyes back to the trio in front of him, and offered a pleasant smile. "
I'm going to keep talking with my new friends."
That seemed to settle the matter among the three, though Jerek saw them relax much more once the fight had vanished out the door. Whatever sounds or vibrations drifted through after that, for them it was just one more part of living on Mek-Sha. Jerek wasn't sure he could handle that kind of life, surrounded by desperation and living without the ability to defend from it. Still, somehow they had survived so far, he couldn't imagine any of them were truly helpless.
"
So what do you say?" Jerek asked them, his smile growing broad as he lifted his voice. His hand followed, freed at last from the clutches of the orange flirt, and motioned for a server to come over. "
Another round?"
Atlas Drake
and when the sight of a lightsaber was more than noted. Mishel figured that the gloves were about to come off, so she wandered over toward the Toydarians and slipped them a hefty credit stick. "You're going to need this, if you need any more funds please contact the Ministry of Commerce from the Confederacy. They'll pay for any damages and funds will be transferred to that stick."
