"Grakko's messenger has arrived, Master Ruuka." The interpreter droid spoke.

The Trandoshan waved one of his claws back. "Bring him in." Ruuka turned to his Rodian and Gamorrean guards. "Stay ready."

The messenger, wearing what almost looked like Jedi robes, walked into Ruuka's office, clean and spotless like an Imperial command center. No windows were around, and the air was stale. He noticed the two Gamorrean guards to the right, and the Rodian to the left. Their blasters were primed.

"My name is Arrakeen. I've been sent by Grakko the Hutt to deliver this..." The former Jedi placed a small holo device on the desk in front of Ruuka. Paul saw what was probably a smile, or a sneer, on the Trandoshan's face.

The holo glowed as an image of a Hutt's face appeared above.

"Ruuka," The Hutt spoke in human tounge. "If you are seeing this, then you know how much you fouled up. You allowed the shipment of MY spice, nearly 20 packages, to fall into Imperial hands. Worse, you were stupid enough to leave my name on the cargo!" The Hutt's face was twisted with anger.

"We're through. I want you out of Mos Eisley by tomorrow. If you're not gone by then, or if you refuse my offer now, I'll have the messenger kill you."

Paul nearly choked out of surprise.

Right now? He wants me to take him out now?

The holo stopped glowing, and the image faded. Paul saw the Trandoshan's face turn into a dark red. Ruuka looked up at him, his breathing becoming heavier.

Paul clenched his fists, as they are the only weapons he's got. The guards started to move closer to him.

With a rageful cry, Ruuka stood up, almost lunging Paul, pulling his blaster out of his holster. Paul called on the Force, and took the blaster out of scale hands and into his own.

He saw the look of shock on Ruuka's face as Paul stuck the barrel at his forehead and fired. As the Trandoshan's body fell back, the former Jedi shot the gun-hands of the Gamorrean guards to his right. He ducked as a bolt flew past his head by the Rodian, and Paul responded by blasting him in the leg.

The guards now dealing with their wounds, Paul simply pressed on the keypad, opened the door, and walked out.

***
Grakko's Hideout

"What's the passsword?" The Twi'lek asked in the alley.

"Smash the spirit." Paul replied. The guard nodded and stepped back. An elevator, the roof being the very ground they were standing on, rose up. He walked right in, and flipped the switch.

When the elevator doors reopened, Paul was able to see Grakko the Hutt. The gigantic slug was in the back of the room, behind crowds of smugglers, brigands, pirates, bounty hunters, and even slave girls. He had to push his way to the Hutt.

"Ahhh..." Grakko began to say, holding a cup of some exotic drink in his hand. "The carrier returns. I take it Ruuka was pleased with the message."

Paul shook his head. "He attacked me. He's been...dealt with."

The Hutt's face seemed to brighten up as he was pleased by the answer. "And his guards?"

"Dead." Grakko began laughing (along with a lot of his yes-men).

"Your proving yourself to be quite an item, Mr.Arrakeen. Already, your name is being spread along the streets...well...at least my streets."

Stupid Hutt. Always remembering the cities, never realizing that Tattooine is a dust ball. Paul smiled.

"I have another job for you." Grakko put down the drink behind him. "My spice shipment has just been moved to the local Imperial garrison. I need you to run over there and give my...request...to their commander to return it to me."

The former Jedi smiled again. "I'll do even better. I'll get your whole shipment back."

Grakko's head moved back as the words reached him. "What? But...how?" he asked.

"I've fought the Empire before. I know there tricks. Besides, if I do this right, they won't link this back to you." Paul replied.

The Hutt gave an intense stare. "How much?"

"Twenty thousand credits."

More than enough to buy a ship, get off this planet, find another lightsaber, and see what I can do about Corellia.

Like Ruuka, Grakko's face turned a dark red as his anger came out in the form of throwing his arms wildly. It was very amusing.

"Are you INSANE?! You're a MESSENGER! AN ERRAND BOY! Twenty thousand credits?! I won't even pay BOBA FETT that much!" The Hutt screaming began to die down.

"This," Paul began to say. "Will be my last job. After its done, you'll never see me again. Besides, I need a little compensation for your warning to Ruuka ahead of time what I was to do if he refused your eviction."

The Hutt glared at him, but the former Jedi could sense that Grakko will give in. "Very well. But I will NOT support you in this matter. You need help, you find it yourself."

Paul gave a nod. "Thank you, Grakko." As he walked away from the Hutt and into the crowd, the Hutt turned to the Twi'lek beside him.

"When he returns with the spice, kill him."

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Paul sat there in the corner booth, scanning the crowd of any possible 'recruits.'

Infiltrating an Imp camp can't be done in my weakened condition. I'll need to get a group together, maybe some mercs I can share some money with. he thought.

Taking another sip from a glass of Krayt Milk, one of his favorites, Paul sat there...watching...waiting...

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And where there were force-users, there was usually some rebellion or caper afoot that was of interest to someone who might pay handsomely for information. Jaz could certainly use a gig, having spent her last job on parts for her pirate-stripped cruiser. She was still quite far from her goal to retire on her own island on Naboo or similar picturesque planet. Had she taken Striker’s offer to continue running his business for him, she would have been set by now, but taking anything from that Corellian anymore was too painful. She figured if anything she owed him for all the years he took care of her, gave her a purpose.

Dressed now in average civilian cargo-pilot gear, she could be a smuggler for all the mystery man knew. She sipped the last of her drink, then ordered another, tapping her foot the way nervous runners often did. The second shot-sized drink disappeared in one swallow, and she watched more than a few pair of eyes take note.

Just enough attention to make the man in back wonder about her, she hoped.

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Amoungst the many in the highly populated streets- where transportation hovered off the surface, and speed through, blowing the clothing into a flutter- was a man attired in bright white trench coat, covering his facail expression with the shadow of the hood. Stepping toward the door of a small building where he was granted a stay as long as he found it fit. The man glanced once to each side and opened the door, only responded by a step into the darkness of the half-opened door, and quickly locked before a peep could inform the one who could possibly be spying upon the man of what was within.

The lights was dimmed, and only the frame of the man walking in bright white could be seen. Grasping the sides of his hood, he leisurally threw it off. Running his hand in a slow drift in the air, as his hand was opened widely the switch to turn upon the light was thrown 'on' to shine and define the rooms description.

It was a room only exitable by three entrance. One toward the basement, the other to the bed room and the next to the living room where many times he rested, nuturing his whittered frame as well as the exit into the city life. Yet who was this man who kept his house tiddy and fit. A Explorer, or something much more fantasting then that of an geographical investigator.

"I will have to say, those bar fights are very senseless" The young adult walked to the table where a basket was held, holding fruits and snacks that could be quickly snatched on a quick exit. Swinging his over-attire off, and throwing it skillfully upon the chair. Heading toward the 'living' room he looked at the furnature that was placed along the circular shaped room. The soft luxuries couched placed behind the interior of the seatings around the postieroir of the center, on the edges of the wall.

"Now for a rest." The man said, motioning toward the couch to prepare for a relaxing drop upon his back on the luxuries foundation of the couch. Hitting agianst the soft leather fabrics, he threw his head up, placing it a top the pliant arm. Staring to the ceiling, his weary eyes fell closed, as the slumber began with a snore. As the snores slowly manifested into low-tuned inhales and exhales, the dreams dropped into his brain as he slept soundlessly..

((OOC: Sorry the first one was in the wrong thread, didn't know this one was homing the place of Tattonie))

[ 11-02-2002 02:22 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Rakim Jo'La-kin ]

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The Hutt couldn't have sent a spy. I would have sensed that half an hour ago.

Curious, the Jedi looked back and saw a woman dressed as a ship pilot, possibly a freighter, staring at him. Paul waited to see what her reaction would be.

If she is a spy, she would be running by now...

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She held his gaze bravely. Handsome and wise were his eyes, having seen much, yet revealing little. Definitely force-user eyes, she decided. But on which side? Or does he tread both, as good old Striker did. No matter to her, so long as there was a good side somewhere in there to stay on.
Howlrunners... he's so like Striker...She couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

A slight smile crossed her lips and she tore her eyes away to glance back at her empty glass. Signaling the bartender, she leaned over and told him to fill her shot glass and send a refill of whatever the man in the corner was having.

A moment later, a Twi'lek bar maid delivered the drink to the stranger. As it was placed before him, Jaz smiled and raised her glass in a toast. Again she kept her eyes locked on his, hoping he would see her strong mind and fearless spirit. Though she wasn't a force-user, she too had seen much.

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"Bah, stupid windows." He muttered to himself as he came to a stand from his couch which he had taken a quick nap along previously. Crouching over and placing his hand upon it, he sled it gradually down the side, neating it up for any guest that could come.

Heading out the room, he placed his hands in his small pockets with his head down as his mind began beating new rhytmic tones from Twi'lek musicians at his previous meeting with such a being on Tattonie. Gesturing his hand to the side with a wiggle of his wrist, an invisible orb beckons a two items of which have been layed neatly along a table chair. First to come was the light-weighted coating, and in the action of it heading his way he motioned his body so it would slide perfectly along his being for his exiting of his shelter. Then followed by that was a blade, known to many as the Lightsaber of a Jedi. Placing it under his trench coat, he walked up the steps and headed out into the dusty climate known on the map of the Universe as Tattonie; Home of the Old Hutt Empire.

Grabbing the hood cloth he throws it fittingly over his face, hiding the dust filled gust from having any form of collision with his eyes to damage it, as well as hide his idenity. Heading toward a shop down the way, it'd be his last visit or travel on Tattonie before he would head on the road once more. The life of a Rogue Jedi, never standing in the same place.

Heading into the bar, he could heard the tune of the insturment play, beating inside his ear drum. Rakim, the humanoid creature headed toward the bar as one stood exiting the premises for his duties of the day. Placing himself upon the stool, he looked toward the Bar Waitress, with a smirk on her face, staring into the beauitful eyes of hte woman.

"Has anyone told you of your great, and beauitful-" Young Jo'La-kin paused as his lips curled into a flirtatious smirk, as his arousment elevated-" structure. Your an exteremly attractive Mrs-?" He paused awaiting a reply.

"Its not Mrs, its Miss-Im not married. My names Sheilla-" She said with a smirk on her face, placing a meduim-sized glass a top the counter- "Whatcha want?" Sheilla inquired somewhat over intensily for such a casually question statement.

Rakim smiled back at her, and placed his hand softly upon the ladies wrist, and moved forward, whispering in the young ladies ear.

"I want the information I know you have. Also Im exhausted, so I'd like just a glass of water.." Rakim fell back in his stoll, and watched her walk slowly behind the counter, her strut very attractive and polished with sparkle of flirtation.

Rakim youthful eyes lunged away from the girl as she headed around the corner to attain the desired liquid. Jo'La-kin glared puzzledly at a being who stared toward a woman across the woman with such escalation that it seem the two eyes within both their cranuims would explode. Spectating with obvious intrest, he awaited an altercation to begin so his confrontation to either one would come to a commence..

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Rakim's expression intesnified, his teeth grinded against each other, fighting to hold back some berserk temper that he fueled its way to his face.

The dark dirty skinned humanoid stealthfully rolled his hand out as in the form of holding an object, and abruptly the drink shifted from the woman's grasp into the palm of Rakim. Staring down into it, he took one quick gulp and throws the glass to the foundation. An ear shattering, attention grasping sound effect splurred thorought the mellow enviroment. The disruptive dispurst of the glass flung all the eyes toward the one who waas responsible for such a sound; Rakim.

He headed toward the door, but annoyingly motioned laborely, informing all of them that his action as purposedly, and orginated for michevious outbreak. As his feet step the sand of the frontier of the building, he headed toward the space station where he landed his ship.

Minutes passed from his disparting of the building on Tattonie, and he was finally in the cockpit of his ship. He slowly headed off the foundation, his rockets boosted against the surface, pushing him up with its brute, and fiery force. As it directed behind him, and the waves of the heat could be visabely seen, he trailed into the heavens with one screeching gaint blaze. Leaving a smokey dust behind him to showcase the path he went upon, he headed toward Hyperspace for an adventure that could lead him anywhere. Anywhere was better then where he was, or so he hoped...

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[ 11-13-2002 01:18 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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Allaria stepped into the crouded streets with her sister, and cast her glacial gaze about the dusty planet...

"Dreary, my sister, Indeed very dreary, But i do believe we can find a bit of... Fun."

She smiled at her sister and soon they were walking along, as they did so she rested her head against her sisters strong shoulder, as if she were tired...

meanwhile a hand darted here and there, causing people off in the distance to "trip on rocks"

She smiled to herself and walked on...

Slowly they came to a halt in front of a little cantina. "Perhaps something to drink, My sister?" she questioned lightly...

[ 11-13-2002 01:20 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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IllaAnda strode the dusty streets of the Tatooine spaceport as if she owned them... which in fact, if all were really said and done, she did. Her head held high, her black hair billowing about her like a fog of doom, she moved along in smooth and graceful steps, one hand upon the hilt of her sword, "Skemmdarvargur," the other now moving from where she had it placed lightly about her sister's shoulders.

Coming upon them in a series of rumbles and moans of protest was a ronto with its jabbering jawa master. The little creature was beating the beast about the head with a gaffi stick it had somehow managed to appropriate; Illa's eyes narrowed to see that elegant if elephantine animal toss its head at the mistreatment. True the evil daughter cared not a whit for the fate of any mere mortal creature, but it displeased her to see the obvious contrast of so tiny a being lording it over so great a one. Slowly her eyes reddened, and oily black shadows began swimming in their depths.

Then, at the exact moment when her cunning and boosted senses told her that absolutely no one was looking, she acted. In less than the blink of an eye, Skemmdarvargur was unsheathed, swinging in a great glittering arc, to snatch up a rock at her feet and pelt it directly into the face of the unexpecting ronto. Then it was back in its sheath, and her arm was about Allaria. Still moving, they turned their heads to watch the unfolding events.

Completely startled, not to mention hurt by the rock flying into it's eye, the ronto let out a bellowing wail and reared straight up. The jawa, completely unprepared for this, fell to the earth, his gaffi stick flailing. With another roar the ronto came to a thundering crash back on its four feet, one forefoot oblitering the gaffi stick, the other one treating the unfortunate jawa in a similar manner.

IllaAnda merely smiled and tightened her hug about Allaria.

"A mere portent of things to come, my sweet," she purred, raising her hand to nestle her sister's head against herself. They strode on together, their mutual eye at last coming upon an obscure cantina sitting there amidst the dust and sand. The pair did not so much as exchange a glance, but moved on over to it, stopping to stand before its entrance.

"Perhaps something to drink--?" Allaria's musical voice came into her ears, prodding her forward. Together they entered the dimly lit interior of the establishment.

It was filled with smoke and the stench of many alien bodies and the roar and laughter and cries of pain and all the other general noises one would come to associate with a cantina on Tatooine. The ever-present jizz-wailer trio warbled off-key in a corner; Illa sniffed, then her eyes caught someone.

"I am not as adept as you in sensing others, my sister," she whispered, "but it seems as though there is someone who in her heart is... intrigued by the dark."

She nodded her head to where a pilot-dressed female was sitting with a male, sharing an ale together and talking quietly. A sense of the Force radiated from the male which even Illa could feel; she quietly removed her hand from Allaria and placed it on the hilt of her sword.

"Tell me what you sense, sister," she whispered in an even quieter voice. "Perhaps here we may indeed find a bit of refreshment...."

She then whispered. "the woman, Once knew a jedi of sorts... One she was actauly quite fond of... And as for the man... He is a jedi, That found a need to escape the jedi order..."

She suddenly found the need to resist a slight giggle as she realized that with but the bat of one of her long, and teasing eyelashes, her and her sister could destroy all of the worthless creatures in this pathetic building...

Her eyes drifted accross crowd with little more then a passing interest, pulling herself slightly closer to her sister as she noted that most of the beings here were filthy, and disguisting...

Her gaze finaly fell upon the bar, and she smiled a funny little smile as she reached into the mind of the bar tender...

Soon they were approuched, to drinks in the hand of the being, of which allaria took one, and sipped lightly on a sweet and delicious beverage...

She looked at her sister and smiled "Something to drink my sister?"

Then she guided them both to a small booth, and sat down, eyeing the force-user from the corner of her glacial eyes... She was dying to bring him to the darkness... to let him see the glory of evil, before simply ended his life...

--------------------

Then IllaAnda let her sister seat them. She smiled across the table into her sister's glacial eyes, her own turquoise ones wide and innocent as a summer's day, and with her free hand moved the edge of her long and concealing cloak out of the way in case Skemmdarvargur should be called into battle.

Her lips curled sensuously, and she batted those brilliantly innocuous-seeming turquoise orbs. She raised the glass in her graceful hand in toast to Allaria.

"An impeccable choice, my dear," she breathed, taking another sip of the heady liquid. But even as she spoke her eyes slid from her sister's face and locked themselves on the form of the jedi. In this attitude, knowing full well her true nature was stealthily hidden from anything so mere as a Force user, she allowed herself to just sit there, radiating beauty and mystery and a quiet kind of misleading strength...

The Coruscant native began to worry that her force-user friend might decide to leave without taking further notice. She ticked off pros and cons and debated the "worst thing that could happen" in her analytical mind, then went for it.

Casually she walked to the mystery man's table and said, "It's getting a little rough at the bar, mind if I join you?", hoping she didn't sound like she wanted more than just conversation. Hoping he could sense business was on her mind.

Before he replied, her "intell intuition" alerted that the patrons were suddenly intrigued by someone entering the bar. A quick glance revealed two women entering, both striking and one dressed particularly seductively. Something about them gave her a chill, and she noticed all the men leering and women throwing dagger looks of jealousy their way.
Probably working girls, she decided, and turned her attention back to the man with force-user eyes.

--------------------

After all... She dearly LOVED her sister, and would do anything if meant making her dear sibbling happy... And so she decided to lend a hand to her sisters passing glances...

She reached out quietly into the jedi's mind, placing a small idea there, as though it were forged from his own thought proccess, leaving no traces she had ever even held a passing thought at doing such a thing...

and with her will, she knew there was one thought now striving to gain attention in the jedi's mind...

Why not go sit with the laddies over at the side table? they seem like a nice duo

She smiled to herself and took a small sip of her drink, casting her gaze over upon the woman whom sat with the jedi...

Her smile grew somewhat friendly, as if an invitation for them both to join her sister, and herself...

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Except for the female who yet sat with the male....

Now Illa nodded, leaning over to whisper into Allaria's ear.

"That one has some wit about her," she breathed so quietly that none other could hear her. "The male is certainly acting a regular dullard; but the female...."

She broke off, straightening up with a brightly sincere smile, and cocking her head raised her glass. The brilliant turquoise gaze she too sent out to the female in the pilot's suit was even more open and honest and friendly and guileless, offering a silent invitation which read how lonely she and her sister were, having just arrived on this dusty backwater of a planet, not knowing anybody, they could use a friend...

You my dear certainly look as if you could be that friend to us....

Her smile broadened, showing the mere glimpse of gleaming white teeth, as she maintained that look...

...but one quite thoroughly laced, unbeknownst to any sentient mortal, with more than a little demonic influence, one enough to both carry its weight as well as hide her true intent from mere beings and Force-users alike, thus utterly assuring its success.

Shawn stopped at the the fringe of a sand dune, gazing out upon the main area of Mos Eisley. The spaceport bustled with life; ships docking and leaving the planet, merchants wheeling and dealing, people crossing paths with friends and complete strangers.

Not exactly the place you'd wanna take a seven-year old Jedi student, but Shawn really did feel it was important to find Loban, and seeing the galaxy would be good to foster Thea's awareness of different species and varying locations.

He squatted to be down on Thea’s level, uncertain as to if she had ever been to Tatooine in her short life-span. “This Tatooine, a planet controlled mostly by Hutts and gangsters. It’s a rough place, and people of many species and races tend to gather here to trade, gamble, or just to get lost. We are now in Mos Eisley spaceport,” he explained. “It’s one of the most well-known spaceports not only on Tatooine, but also in the galaxy. It also seems to be one of the more notorious ones; we can’t be certain of anything we see or hear while we are here, which may be for some time, and then it may not. Do you sense our friend Loban at all here?” he asked, knowing full well this would be a rather difficult task in such a bustling and widespread location. At any rate, even if Loban could be sensed here, it would take some gathering of information to find his exactly location, Force-essence on planet or not.

Shawn waited to see what Thea would have to say.

[ 11-12-2002 03:20 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shawn Petrolu ]

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"N-No, I don't mind at..at...all." he replied, nervously. This was one of the moments he wished he wasn't a Jedi, even though he sensed that she meant business.

"M-may I ask..." he coughed a little bit. "W-Why you bought me that d-drink?"

Maybe I should've stayed and died on Kessel instead of making an idiot of myself here...

Jazelle Corona...that was her name. He 'recognized' her from the Force even though he has not used it in anyway...a power he thought he had lost on Yavin IV.

Why not go sit with the ladies at the side table? They seem like a nice duo...

The thought appeared out of nowhere inside his mind, and suddenly he straightened his back as if he to stand up...

He looked behind him at the two women, and smiled. He didn't know them before, but he felt the urge to and meet them...

"Excuse me..." he said to Jaz, by then already walking away.

[ 11-13-2002 06:44 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Paul Arrakeen ]

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"This Tatooine, a planet controlled mostly by Hutts and gangsters. It’s a rough place, and people of many species and races tend to gather here to trade, gamble, or just to get lost. We are now in Mos Eisley spaceport,” he explained. “It’s one of the most well-known spaceports not only on Tatooine, but also in the galaxy. It also seems to be one of the more notorious ones; we can’t be certain of anything we see or hear while we are here, which may be for some time, and then it may not. Do you sense our friend Loban at all here?”

Thea looked up at her master, "I have been here before but father always said it was too dangerous so mom and I stayed on the ship. But Loban..." She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, searching with her mind for a familiar Force touch. After a while she opened her eyes and shook her head, "No I can't find him. I'm sorry master."

She looked up at him apologetically, she wanted to find him too, the more Jedi around her the better she felt.

--------------------

Shawn then closed his eyes as well, stretching out with the Force to ever-so-gently touch Thea's mind to assist in filtering all the things of the living-Force bombarding her senses here in this crowded spaceport. Not opening his eyes, he waited once more in quiet patience, whispering into Thea's mind as a reminder:

Let his Force-signature come to you as we filter through the bustle of everything else that you feel...

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Remember all the times you were around Loban; remember his Force-presence, let your memory and your instincts guide you. Stay open to everything that is around you, yet allow the one you are remembering even now to come to the forefront of your Force-awareness.

Then you will have found the Force-signature of he whom you seek.

[ 11-12-2002 10:50 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shawn Petrolu ]

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The ladies at the table seemed friendly enough. She didn't know what his interest in them was, but she feared she might lose her chance to ask if he could help her. She had, after all, invested in buying him a drink... not a big expense, but the emotional investment bugged her, since she didn't buy guys drinks very often. If his interest in these two was of a non-business nature, she'd yield, feeling inadequate to compete on that level. But if it was business... she had him first!

Jaz grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him back a step, leaning to his ear.

"Wait," she whispered. Not quite sure if it was her assertiveness or the shots talking, she added, "Let's just leave. I'll tell you why I bought that drink when we get outside. Maybe you'll tell me your name. Maybe you'll be willing to help a lady down on her luck."

[ 11-13-2002 01:17 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Jazelle Corona ]

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In reality, the hand was effectively hiding the grin which curled in response to the stab of possessiveness she felt arrowing from the woman who even now was trying to stop the man from coming her way. Her lowered lids masked the direction of her own eyes, which now cut to her sister.

"It appears we would have a contender for this one, Allaria," she barely breathed. Then completely eliminating any wayward expressions from both her features and demeanor, she raised her head again, and sent one great eye-batting glance at the Jedi. Her turquoise eyes glinted with just the hint of tears, and she let out a sigh, her former smile dimming and beginning to tremble a little as she now raised her drink to her lips as though to find surcease from some great and unknown sorrow in its depths.

"Yeah a lady down on her luck..." he said, seeing the disappointment in one of the ladies' faces.

But as he stared at the pair, Paul could sense a strange familiarity...as if he knew them somehow.

But that's impossible he thought. I have never met them before in my life...and yet I'm drawn towards...

He broke his eyes away from them, and looked at Jaz. "Y-yes...we s-should g-go..." he said, but his stuttering was not from him being nervous; he found it hard to speak the words he wanted to say.

"Ah, sorry." he said again, pulling his arm away from her, his voice now more calm. "But I have some...business...to discuss with them."

What?! That's not what I wanted to...ah, I must be drunk. What's wrong with me? Of course I want to meet them...

Paul smiled again, but there was a hint of reluctance in it...and uncertainty. The Jedi turned around and continued approaching the table.

Strange. I feel like I'm almost afriad of them.

Unconciously, (maybe...the Force?) Paul's hand went inside his robe and gripped the blaster...

[ 11-13-2002 05:33 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Paul Arrakeen ]

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