Ask There and Back Again

[Hannibal Grayza]

It'd been some time since his last visit, and even more since he'd come to pull Trys from the depths of her head, but even so Hannibal felt he was in the Core a little too often these days. He did try to avoid the Core worlds, having no great fondness for the Senate or other politicians and the the corruption that trickled down to rot the core of glittering Coruscant. At least Chandrilla was a more progressive and forward-thinking place on its own. The Free Worlds certainly tried even if the Republic had been a lost cause for centuries.

The Jedi's ship had landed at the spaceport nearest where Trys' current apartment was and now his airspeeder zoomed through the skylanes on the way to meet her. The silvery craft parked in the apartment garage and he stepped out, notably devoid of a cloak this time. It was a little past noon, so he'd gone with simple deep gray trousers and an autumnal red button-up, the two kept in place by a brown leather utility belt. A neat, classic pilot's bomber jacket that served to conceal Sol's lightsaber in a custom coat pocket was worn overtop.

Hannibal removed his mirrored aviators and placed them inside a coat pocket, red-brown boots carrying him down the hallways in the complex until he reached Trys' door. He hit the call button, stepped back, and waited. It was time to use that favour before Trys decided what he needed was a boot upside his head or something. Naturally the young Jedi had called ahead that he'd be visiting instead of showing up unannounced. Hannibal respected her autonomy and privacy and didn't want to press her on anything if she wasn't feeling up to guests, considering everything going on.

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

She had been drinking from a firehose of information since she came back to life. The Rangers were demanding her attention, she was trying to still recall her memories and make connections. Triggering events and seeing people from her past began to help quite a bit. She also returned to a rigid exercise routine to get back in shape from laying dormant for a while.

Trys had scrambled to find a 6 month lease to get into a place. Having her old townhome blown up meant she had no home. She took some of her belongings from a storage locker and placed them into the new apartment. For the first time since she had Crix, she had gotten herself a one bedroom apartment. It was a painful reminder that he was finally grown up and had a new home now.

She heard Hans call when he was downstairs and told him to come up. Trys wasn’t entirely sure what his favor entailed and she didn’t know what to pack. She was dressed in form fitting black jeans, a black tank and a leather jacket with some black boots. It was typically how she dressed, her hair once again cropped short and styled. Black studs dotted along her ears as usual.

Trys moved to open the door when Hans came up, stepping back to let him in. She looked far more lively and much more like herself this time.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” She said, gesturing to the miniscule apartment, “Can I get you a drink? I have some beers and...well that’s it, really,” Trys shrugged as she walked off for a moment.

“I gotta ask you something, man,” Her voice would call out from the bedroom. Trys emerged a moment later, holding the heavy blaster that had been returned to her from Ranger HQ. She had amusement in her eyes as she held it up, “Would you happen to know why they handed me this kickass RSKF when I went in expecting my piece of shit old stun blaster? None of the Rangers knew.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

"Thanks for havin' me'' he replied, walking in past Trys and giving the space a cursory once-over. It didn't look like Rangers got paid much better than Jedi, for all the hard work they out in. The two forensics types he'd made friends with were even roommates. And possibly dating.

"Sure why not, I'll take a beer. Glad to see you're lookin' better." Hannibal made his way to whatever couch analogue and removed his jacket, laying it on the back somewhere before sitting down. The fingers of his right hand rubbed idly at his left, massaging the muscles there while Trys was off doing whatever.

Emerald eyes looked up from where they'd been staring into space and an amused grin settled on his face. "I gave ya that when I visited your office, after you were attacked by a Sith. Seemed prudent." He paused a moment, then shrugged. "I got sent two, so I passed one on."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys had expected him to know where she got the gun. She didn’t, however, expect him to be the one to give it to her. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment and she glanced down at the blaster again, surveying it from various angles. It was completely new, and it looked as if she hardly used it. Trys set it down on the table, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Hannibal.

“You know I ain’t the right Ranger to be buttering up, right?” She assumed all his antics were to improve Jedi and Ranger relations. She could guess the Jedi were sorely hurting from a PR standpoint and they needed their allies, “Captain Rook is probably the better one to schmooze,” Trys could imagine he would be very thrilled to own such a blaster.

She walked over and retrieved two beers. Trys came back and tossed one to Hannibal. It was from a local brewery, a pale ale infused with imported spiced peppers and hints of citrus. It wasn’t a flavor most would like, but she had a feeling she could share this with the strange Jedi.

Trys cracked her bottle open, sitting down across him as she took a sip, “So, what’s this favor of yours? I hope you remember the terms,” She didn’t want to have to send him back to the drawing board if his idea involved some selfless bullshit.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal gave Trys a look that was half bemused and half annoyed, one eyebrow raised. "Who is hell is Captain Ro- Oh, helmet guy. Right." He clicked his tongue and waved his left hand dismissively. "I wasn't butterin' up anybody, it was an apology gift. The Sith you almost died capturin' escaped me." The young Jedi adjusted how he was seated to be a little more lounge worthy, leaned up against the side of the couch, though he kept his booted feet off of any furniture.

He took the beer in hand and popped the top off, idly fiddling with the cap while he sipped it. Hannibal quickly decided he liked it and took another drink before lowering the bottle, green eyes turning to look at Trys. The cap danced overtop the fingers of his right hand, rolled over knuckles like a coin and occasionally tossed or twisted under in some way.

"I'm trackin' somethin' and it'll take a bunch of extra steps. Probably. Gonna start with the Wheel." As it turned out, the holocron he and Elias had found on Tython was the one Hannibal had been looking for, but it was missing a piece, akin to a key. Without the piece it more or less only served as a sort of Force battery for the life in and around the temple, but it wasn't much of a holocron. After a moment he realized that vague statement probably wouldn't fly with Trys.

"It's a bit of old Jedi knowledge that I need, personally, and there'll be some business of mine along the way. That do for a favour?"

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys’s eyebrows furrowed as he mentioned the Sith she had captured. She closed her eyes, tapping into her mind again. She thought of the prison, she thought of the battle, the Jedi that died. She vaguely recalled the reports, but she could only remember being in a medical bay. Why wasn’t she at the prison? Because she had been injured. Why had she been injured? Because…

Her eyes popped open and she looked at Hannibal, “He did what?” She growled at him, “That mother kriffer killed Rangers on live Holo!” She hissed, “Is he still at large?!” Trys wouldn’t settle down till Hannibal cleared things up. Her head began to hurt as various points in current events began to flood in. She kept seeing a man’s face, the same face where brown eyes flicked to gold and then back. Trys felt strong emotions, and they were accompanied with a painful ache she couldn’t explain.

Hannibal’s words dragged her back, and she looked at him again. Trys exhaled softly, sipping from her beer and focusing on the flavor to anchor to the present. She heard him lay out his idea, though there was a hint of skepticism on her face, “Old Jedi knowledge sounds like Jedi business, not Hannibal business,” She muttered flatly, “But fine. I suppose if it’s a pain in the ass process I’ll consider it debt repaid.”

The wheel was notorious for white collar crimes. It was similar to what she sometimes observed in Nar Shaddaa, but far more deceptive. She had been on missions there a few times by now and couldn’t imagine what Hannibal needed from there. Trys drank more from her beer, eyeing Hannibal for a moment, “Nice ink, by the way, I bet those prude Jedi girls go apeshit over that," She laughed a bit more thinking about how Jedi were likely all celibate and dealing with permanent sexual frustration. The laugh quickly melted off her face as she thought of a rather tragic existence for her son.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

His head shook briefly before he took another sip of his beer. While Ender had escaped the prison, and in doing so taught Hannibal an important lesson about Sith by murdering his way through a station afterward, he'd dropped off a little afterward. At least until the Sith attack on Ajan Kloss.

"He died fighting Sada-Nau- one of the council- though she didn't make it out either." May they find peace in death. The young Jedi kept his personal beliefs to himself, but the sentiment was still there on his face. It was a pensive and mildly melancholy expression, particularly since the temple on Ajan Kloss appeared to be haunted or, something. He'd intended to go check it out, but he didn't think it was the best idea in his current state. Max planned to do some recon last they'd talked about it.

Hannibal took another drink, shrugging a little at Trys. He didn't want to go into it, since he was still figuring it out himself, but the way he'd been handling combat was simply not healthy. Accessing the holocron was personal and important enough for him to count it, the other business aside. "Definitely a pain in the ass. Trust me, you're really helpin' me out here."

Emerald eyes dropped to the hand he was playing with the cap in, the little bit of metal rolling over the image of a guardian spirit before flipping into and upturned palm. Hannibal looked back at the Ranger with an amused grin, laughing along with her though for different reasons entirely. Trys obviously had a very old fashioned view of the Jedi. Oren probably hadn't helped.

"Prude? Yeah, some of 'em sure, by choice, but I wouldn't say most. I'm not even the only one with ink." Which was true. Indy had some of her own, though he wouldn't count tattoos as common among the Jedi aside from cultural practices. Hannibal held up the hand, turning his forearm in the light so she could see the art more clearly. The scars were well worked into the art, but they were still clearly scars if one looked long enough.

Fractal lightning gilded to reconnect the rest, black vines that twisted beneath guardian spirits and bloomed into colourful flowers, the touch of flame turned into a twisting, serpentine dragon. Nearly every had meaning that only he really understood, but Hannibal kept his scars and turned them into something new and beautiful. He took them in and moved forward.

"Important lessons best remembered," he said simply before returning to messing with the cap and taking another drink. He was quiet for a moment.

"So... Astroboy, huh?"

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

She was relieved to hear the Sith was dead, though it came with the unfortunate news of a Councilor dying. That was another powerful defender out of the equation. How many people were even on this council? Trys quietly drank from her beer, surveying him as he reassured her that the mission for his favor was going to be painful. As much as Trys wasn’t thrilled about that, she knew she would feel better after doing it.

Trys wasn’t entirely convinced the entire Jedi Order wasn’t made up of a bunch of church prudes. She took everything he said with a grain of salt on account of him being a rather unorthodox Jedi. She certainly hadn’t met any that were as moody as him. Trys glanced down as he revealed more of his tattoos. It wasn’t her style to really steal glances, so she permitted herself to look now. She hadn’t noticed before that the tattoos wove in with marks of injury. Trys had suffered effects of lightning before, though nowhere near the severity as him. It had come from… she saw a dark figure and a mask. It was a small woman in an alley on Nar Shaddaa.

Trys quickly came back to the present, impressed with the way his patterns covered some of the scars but left others alone. The scars worked in perfect tandem with the way the art laid out. It was clear that the tattoos went further up beneath the sleeves, and she had a suspicion they went beyond just the arms. She raised her beer at his words, “Here, here,” Trys said before taking a sip. When he said Astroboy, she almost coughed on her beer. She had forgotten that her sleeve had lowered back at the hospital.

“Crix and I watched it all the time when he was little,” Trys said with a chuckle, “Some of my fondest memories. He probably doesn’t even remember. He became overly concerned for droid and AI welfare for a while there and man that was a pain..” Trys rolled her eyes, still grinning as she took another swig. She didn’t ask questions about his tattoos, and she didn’t reveal more of hers. They were all personal choices and meanings on a need to know basis. However, she had rotated her wrists while she spoke, a keen eye able to pick up some very old scars along the inner wrist subtly under the tattoos, “I normally keep it all covered up around Rangers. Don’t really have to, but I do anyway.”

She was already over halfway done with her beer, “So uh...how’re you doing? Since the whole mind rescue shit you did with me,” Trys knew it had impacted him as well. She didn’t know to what degree, but if it was anything like hers, there were lingering effects.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

A tattoo from Trys and her son watching a show? That was downright adorable, though he chose not to say as much. Trys might kill him in his sleep or something. Hannibal just smiled instead, transitioning from rolling the bottle cap to spinning it into the air and catching. He shrugged a little when she mentioned concealing her tattoos.

"They're personal, I get it, professional expectations or whatever." Call it cultural differences. Though he hadn't been raised on Epicant one of the things he'd picked up from his dad had been some of their warrior culture, including the displaying of scars. Hannibal had just adjusted the practice to his own liking a bit to include the relatively common practice of tattoos. They weren't a terribly rare sight on Panatha.

Her question about how Hannibal was doing brought a sort of weary frown to his face. It seemed sort of a nonstop process since Sol, and now the Eternal, that the young Jedi was sorting out his own head. His poor therapist.

"Better than last time," he answered eventually and took another sip. Having had a little to time to get some small hold of himself had been helpful, but things still weren't exactly in place. He had his Jedi training to filter things through and fall back on of course, it'd be more than a little miserable if he didn't. But it wasn't more than compensating for something he'd relied upon that was missing, and he found himself trying to avoid crowds more than he used to. Not a good sign.

"Thanks for askin'." It was genuine, if a little sheepish. He was trying to be a little less awkwardly closed off with Trys since, y'know, psychic darkness adventure. "I'm workin' on it. Hopefully what I'm tryin' to find will help. I really do appreciate it."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

She knew he was downplaying his own recovery, but she couldn’t blame him. Trys wasn’t the type to share what was going through her mind most of the time, especially when it came to vulnerabilities. However, in many ways she owed Hannibal her life. It was clear that conventional medical personnel had no idea how to help her. She was willing to be a bit more open with the guy that had a better idea of what happened to her than she ever would.

“Been having the hardest time sleeping,” Trys said quietly, glancing down at the floor for a moment, “Always afraid I won’t wake up again,” The trauma of having been dead to the world slowly began to sink in as days passed by, and it would be a long road to recovery.

“Anyway, enough mopey bullshit,” Trys said with a cheery tone as she rose to stand, downing the rest of her beer, “I gotta say, I’m glad you dress normal and not in those Jedi dresses. We’d have a tough time at the Wheel if we can’t blend in,” She disappeared for a moment into her room again.

Trys emerged moments later, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. It was how she packed for off world missions, and she figured this would be no different.

“Ready when you are, man," Trys quirked an eyebrow, "And I hope you know I ain't ever calling you Master anything.."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

He looked over at Trys when she started talking, then respectfully away toward a window. Hannibal watched motes of dust float through the stream of sunlight, just listening. Her fears seemed more than a little justified, all things considered. She didn't exactly have the Force to help her sort through her head and she'd been stuck asleep, not to mention whatever other tortures she'd gone through. Hannibal could help pull her out, but he didn't know how to handle traumatic experiences well outside of his own.

Another thing lost with Oota Boan. The Grandmaster had been good at that sort of healing.

Emerald eyes only returned to Trys when she rose up with a cheery tone that to the young Jedi was entirely unconvincing. His gaze held no pity, only mild concern, but he found himself grinning at her attitude. She really did remind him of Crix sometimes.

"I only wear the robes sometimes," he answered back, standing up to finish off his drink. He'd worn the robes less frequently in the past, but these days found being openly a Jedi known for helping people was probably for the best, even if he disliked being in the spotlight. Just probably not on the Wheel.

Hannibal gave Trys a grateful look, flashing another grin. "Good! Stick to Hans, wouldja? Not as much into that formal title bullshit." He waved a hand through the air as if tossing out any semblance of formality and turned to leave, heading out the door and back the garage and his waiting airspeeder.

"Hope y'don't mind takin' my ship," he said on the way, "And uh... Feel free to ask about Crix's training. If you want. He's your kid, an' all."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys tried to picture Hannibal in drab Jedi robes and found it surprisingly hard to imagine. It was almost easier to imagine him with styled hair in a tank top, tight pants and with bands around his wrists in the middle of a rave. The absurd image brought a grin to her face that she had to remind herself to wipe off.

“Uhh just Trys is fine,” She said in response. Her name was too short to shorten any further and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called her by any sort of nickname. She followed him out through the garage and spotted the speeder. Her eyebrows rose at once.

“Pretty flashy ride for a monk,” Trys remarked before she could stop herself. It was certainly nicer than anything she could afford. How the hell did he get this? Come to think of it, how did he afford those tattoos? It took her time to save up to afford a nice artist. She’d have to get the name of his if he found a solid discount artist.

She popped into the speeder with him, shrugging at his comment about the ship, “I don’t have a trans galactic ship so not much of a choice there,” Trys thought about Crix and his training. It was hard to accept that this was reality, but she would do her best.

“Uhhh I guess just send me weekly progress reports or something,” How the hell did this work? She wasn’t the type to pry and be nosy about Crix’s business. The two of them had an understanding when it came to privacy, “I just want him to keep up with his studies,” Trys cast him a sideways glance, “Did you ever go to school? Or did you just grow up moving rocks around and unkriffing people’s heads?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal just nodded, accepting and appreciating the casual approach. Being on the Council didn't mean he felt the need to lean on titles and formality at every turn. After everything he was still just Hannibal in the end, and that was something that would likely never change.

"Woulda called you that anyway. It's your name."

Green eyes eyes turned to look at Trys with some amusement after comment on his airspeeder. To be fair, it was chromed to hell and a good amount of custom work had gone into it. But the components weren't exactly what one would call cheap even if Hannibal had done the physical work on his own. The young kind of just shrugged a little before he slipped down into his side, a datacylinder inserted into the control surface to start up the vehicle with a rumbling purr.

"I put Arcene together myself a few years ago. But yeah, she's flash. My family's uh... from Naboo, y'know?" He offered a sort of sheepish smile about it. The Grayza family wasn't rolling in cash compared to the nobles, but they weren't poor either. Hannibal took the airspeeder up and out of the garage, joining the rest of the vehicles coasting along the skylanes and headed to the spaceport.

Hannibal grimaced the moment Trys mentioned his own education, though it was tinged with some amusement. Not all of those memories were the most pleasant.

"Yeah, I did. Remotely and from my family, mostly, but I've got a degree and everything. Fun, right?" he chuckled dryly and turned off a lane and into another, speeder engine revving slightly. "Parents had their own ideas of education. Don't worry, I'm makin' sure he's still learnin' regular stuff too." Hannibal cleared his throat a little awkwardly. A progress report might not be the worst idea, especially since he had no real excuse not to unless Crix didn't want it done. His stolen yacht had long-range comms on it.

"So y'know, using a lightsaber is one of the last things I'm teaching him. He's not off fighting people."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys simply stared at him blankly as he quipped back about her name. Great, the dude had lame jokes. This was going to be a long trip. She shook her head, rolling her eyes when he wasn’t looking as they stopped before the speeder. When he explained he had put it together, she eyed it for a moment. As the doors opened, she glanced into the interior, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Trimming and specs look a lot like from a K-4 racer,” She remarked as she slid into her seat. It was more than anything she could ever afford, “Most I ever worked on were jalopies,” Trys chuckled to herself, “If you ever see Crix tinkering around a lot, you’ll know where he gets it.”

Being from Naboo meant he wasn’t hurting for cash, and that explained the tats and flashy ride. Though she wasn’t thrilled about it, it brought her a measure of comfort that Crix was at least not with someone that was barely a step above a hobo. For a while she genuinely believed that Jedi simply pitched tents and lived out in the woods.

The speeder drove like a dream, and she felt as if she were whizzing by on a cloud. The flashing neons of Coruscant blurred into an abstract as she looked out the window. The zooming lasted only a while till they were stuck in inevitable traffic. They began to move slowly until he took a turn while talking about his background in education, “Never got one myself,” Trys admitted, shrugging, “It’s why I want Crix to have his shit together. 'Cause I never did.”

She remained silent for a moment after he reassured her that he wouldn’t be using a lightsaber. Trys sighed, “I ain’t worried about that. I’m worried about his personality. He always wants to be the good guy. He always wants to save the day and is sneaky enough to get away and get into trouble. He’s stubborn as kriff,” She tilted her head to look out the window again, “I just hope you know what you signed up for.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal glanced over at Trys and then back to what he was doing, quiet for a few seconds. Crix was a good kid, and he wanted to help people whatever it took sometimes. It felt intimately familiar, nostalgic, and a little bit sad. The young Jedi sighed softly, quiet for a little bit longer.

"I know, don't you worry," he answered back, turning once more. The spaceport was in sight now in the distance, and it wouldn't be too long before they arrived. Quietly he wondered if he should warn her in advance that it was technically a yacht, if an old and stolen one, but decided it'd be more interesting to compare her response to Crix's. Now that'd be funny.

Emerald eyes glanced over at Trys for a moment, then back to the windscreen.

"I don't think Crix wants to be a hero." Arcene dropped down from the skylanes on approach, making him pause in what he was saying to concentrate. It'd be awkward if he was interrupted by a sudden crash or fumbled what he meant somehow. Hannibal was trying to get across a somewhat personal aspect of what being a Jedi was without elaborating on the Force anything.

"People who have lived completely happy and peaceful lives don't choose to become Jedi, Trys. People become Jedi to help others live happy and peaceful lives." Hannibal's airspeeder turned and slipped into an open-topped area where his ship was waiting, the vessel touching down just to the side of the Spirit of Serendipity. The young Jedi turned to Trys at that point, free of the responsibility of keeping the two of them from becoming road salsa.

"Crix just wants to help people with what he's got. Same as you, right?" Hannibal grinned, a hint of nostalgia slipping into the expression. "He's nothin' compared to me as a student. I got this."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys wasn’t entirely convinced about the pitch Hans gave her about how the Jedi operated. From her memory, they seemed more like people that constantly meddled in things that they shouldn’t. Most of the time it ended with them getting defeated. She was vaguely reminded of those droids at the mall that constantly accosted anyone walking by asking if they wanted their skin improved. Always shoving help down your throat whether you wanted or not and while you were minding your business.

She didn’t share any of these thoughts, offering a simple ‘mhm’ here and there as she kept her gaze trained ahead. It was very obvious that she harbored skepticism about Force users in general, though she was sensible enough to see that the Sith were objectively problematic. While she was thankful a Jedi could yank her from the chaos she was lost in, arguably she wouldn’t have been in that spot to begin with if it weren’t for another Force user.

Her thoughts carried her all the way to them parking next to a very flashy yacht. Trys thought nothing of it until they stepped out and Hans began to walk towards the yacht. She froze in place, her eyes widening.

“Wait, what?” She practically hissed, looking from him to the yacht and then back to him. Trys then looked back at the speeder and then back to him, “You are kriffing ridiculous. What in the hell could you possibly need that over the top of a ship for?” She pointed at the yacht in exasperation.

Her son was going to learn nothing about humility from this dude, that was for sure.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Trys' response to the yacht- an older model and a little plain on the outside, but a yacht nonetheless- was honestly perfectly justifiable. It was far from what one might expect from a Jedi to use as a ship at first glance, but doubtless a simple explanation would smooth things over and bring a mutual understanding between the two people.

Hannibal started laughing instead, far too amused by the parallels between Trys and Crix, although hers was rather more straightforwardly aggressive. Crix had known his teacher well enough at the time to simply accept it and move on but Trys didn't know him well at all, and something about the whole situation suddenly resembled a long and overly complicated joke.

"I don't- Heh- I don't need a yacht," he managed after a little while, still chuckling a little and an expression of very genuine amusement on his face. "But neither did the Hutt I took it from." Hannibal waved his hand forward and walked up the boarding ramp and into his ship.

Which was, in fact, fairly well modified on the interior. Around a bend the ship opened into the main observation and "party" area, though the entire space that had once been commonly used as a dance floor had been reworked into a training area. Tools to that end, practice mats, weights, wooden lightsaber analogues, and similar items lined the walls and hung from stands. The bar had been moved around to contain more wholesome stuff with the harder drinks locked behind a cabinet.

The luxurious fastenings and artwork had been mostly removed, sold for the benefit of charity, and replaced with mementos from many different worlds, almost all ordinary little items. A small wooden figure, clearly carved at the hands of an amateur, a collection of seashells, pressed and dried flowers and plants in a little display case, a small bonsai tree in an ordinary pot alongside an array of colourful wildflowers and herbs, a well used but polished cat-eared biking helmet, a pair of short leather gloves, a chunk of carbon-scored durasteel, and many others.

There was also a cat laying atop the bar, its head slightly raising from the place it had been sleeping in to regard the two people who'd wandered in. It meowed, yawned, and went back to sleep.

"Better use than traffickin' slaves and spice, in my opinion," he said after a moment and then turned to look toward Trys. "Want a drink or somethin'? Got juice."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys scowled the entire time as Hans began to laugh. What was so funny about this? She crossed her arms and glared, “You stole this?” She hissed as she followed him up the ramp, “You know, stealing from a bad guy doesn’t make it all right. You’re lucky it just so happened to probably be in Hutt space likely.”

Trys barely took in sight of the interior at first, “So let me get this straight,” She paused, “You deadass go to a poor, starving village with this fancy ass yacht and do the whole ‘yo I’m a prophet of the Force sent here to help you, but look I’m doing it in my ship that probably costs more than your entire planet!’ routine? And then probably give the village chief a ride in your custom spec’d speeder?”

The absurdity of his...well everything about him was almost too much to handle. Trys glanced over and pointed, “And why the kriff does your helmet have ears?” She shook her head, “You know what, never mind, I don’t even wanna know,” Trys grumbled as she went over to find a seat. Why was this guy so damn weird? She probably wouldn't have cared about the helmet, but the reality that this strange Jedi was teaching her son and also somehow saved her life was making her brain melt.

“I don’t want juice, please tell me you have something stronger…”

This was going to be a long trip.

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Hannibal's amused grin stuck on his face through most of Trys' relatively justified outburst, outright chuckling at her idea of the Jedi showing up at some village. It was amusing, but it was also the perspective of someone who didn't know the man very well, which was why he wasn't more upset about it. She wasn't exactly wrong either, but still.

"Sure it does. Last I checked, freein' slaves in Hutt space still counts as theft, legally speakin'." He gestured vaguely around the ship.

"This ship can carry one hundred tons of cargo, plus extra space, medical staff, refugees, and so on. It moves quick at lightspeed and has long range sensors and communication to avoid trouble and keep in contact." The young Jedi moved over to the bar and unlocked the case behind it, busying himself pouring some clear rice alcohol into a pair of glasses.

"So, yeah, I'm gonna show up to a starving village in a yacht I stole from slavers, do whatever it is I can for the people, and drive the village chief wherever the hell they want."

He moved over to where Trys had taken a seat and placed both a glass and the bottle down on the table, sinking into an opposite chair. His expression turned more somber, but it was still a kind of smile. "And the helmet's not mine. Belonged to a friend I lost on Coruscant fighting Sith. And I'm not some damned prophet, just Hannibal, thanks."

A bowl containing little plastic packages and an ash tray were floated over to the table from the bar, and he picked one of the little bags up. He opened it and popped a couple colourful little shapes into his mouth before offering one of the bags to Trys.

"Fruit snacks? They're pretty decent."

@Sreeya

 

[Trys Aran]

Trys remained silent throughout his little rant. For a Jedi, he was certainly quite snippy. Didn’t they have classes to get rid of emotions or something? The Ranger said nothing even as he came back and set down two drinks and some snacks. Silence hung between them after he finished speaking and Trys’s face was difficult to read.

In the end, she casually reached over for a fruit snack and popped it into her mouth, deciding that they were decent after all. Trys glanced over at the helmet again for a moment, thinking about everything the Sith had taken from the Rangers. Everything they had taken from her. She took a sip of the drink and marveled at the smooth flavor.

“You are awfully moody for a Jedi,” Trys said flatly after a while, popping another snack into her mouth as she stared at him. Her face was mostly blank as she observed him.

“So, what’re we gonna do when we get to the Wheel?”

@Mr. Teatime