"Something juicy I hope," Shaw wiggled his eyebrows playfully, but he seriously doubted the satrap even knew how to have fun. Mortez was the scholastic type, and not the fun scholastic type. He seemed like he would be the kind of professor that everyone hated, from the students forced to sit through his lectures to his coworkers who couldn't shake him because he was tenured. Something he always had to bring up too. The only reason the Jedi were here was because Lorrd's king, on good terms with the Jedi, had called in a favor on the satrap's behalf.
Theia was the first one to approach the portrait, three pairs of eyes following her every moment as she reached out and touched the red lettering before drawing her hand back. Shaw grimaced when she licked it, getting a visible case of the heebie-jeebies. The satrap seemed more interested than surprised when Theia informed the rest of the group that it wasn't blood but just dye. "How relieving," came his dry voice, "To know that substance has not rendered your brain completely useless." Mortez might have been amused by Theia the night before, but his patience had worn thin with all of them. "I leave you to it," he announced, robes sweeping toward the library's double doors.
"To it?" Devek repeated, glancing between Theia and the retreating satrap.
"Yes," Mortez replied, as if it was obvious. He gestured a gray hand around the room. "To do whatever it is you Jedi... do. Have you forgotten? That I did not invite you here out of the kindness of my heart, to fill your bellies on my food—" there he glanced to Shaw, "—and my wine?" There he glanced at Theia. Then he was gone, and the Jedi were left alone in the library.
"Huh," Shaw spoke up, still caught up on the letters and oblivious of the dirty look the satrap had thrown his way. "I didn't know ghosts could write." It was meant to be a joke, but it sort of fell flat. Then, clearing his throat and whispering to Theia while Devek began to mill about the room, "Uhhh what does sacrilege mean?" @GABA
Theia was the first one to approach the portrait, three pairs of eyes following her every moment as she reached out and touched the red lettering before drawing her hand back. Shaw grimaced when she licked it, getting a visible case of the heebie-jeebies. The satrap seemed more interested than surprised when Theia informed the rest of the group that it wasn't blood but just dye. "How relieving," came his dry voice, "To know that substance has not rendered your brain completely useless." Mortez might have been amused by Theia the night before, but his patience had worn thin with all of them. "I leave you to it," he announced, robes sweeping toward the library's double doors.
"To it?" Devek repeated, glancing between Theia and the retreating satrap.
"Yes," Mortez replied, as if it was obvious. He gestured a gray hand around the room. "To do whatever it is you Jedi... do. Have you forgotten? That I did not invite you here out of the kindness of my heart, to fill your bellies on my food—" there he glanced to Shaw, "—and my wine?" There he glanced at Theia. Then he was gone, and the Jedi were left alone in the library.
"Huh," Shaw spoke up, still caught up on the letters and oblivious of the dirty look the satrap had thrown his way. "I didn't know ghosts could write." It was meant to be a joke, but it sort of fell flat. Then, clearing his throat and whispering to Theia while Devek began to mill about the room, "Uhhh what does sacrilege mean?" @GABA