The music of Club Vertica was, as always, loud. A small woman sat at a table, her obsidian eyes watching everyone around her. The movements of the dancers, the staggered steps of the drunk. Her mind processed the entirety of the scene with a practiced gaze. She never liked establishments like this, but recent events had ripped her from the comfortable and she decided that she needed further experience in these situations. A den of iniquity such as this would suffice just nicely.
Mana glanced at the glass sitting on the table before her with a sniff. They had told her it was called ‘alcohol’. It reeked of week dead animals and tasted like something from the engine room of a garbage scow. The dim light of the setting sun indicated that the evening was just beginning when a young Kiffar strode into the club, silver handle gleaming off his belt. A Jedi or a Sith…
The young man turned to face her, his eyes alight with interest. She had seen him before, but most of the short-lived people failed to catch her notice for very long. She was always told that it was a fast way to regret and heartbreak to get close to them. In an instant, Mana glanced at those around her, the young woman’s mind working quickly to evaluate and mimic the drunkenness of those who clearly frequented the place much more often. The young man approached and the Augur turned her unfocused gaze on the one standing before her.
“C’n I hep ya?” Mana slurred at the man, a calculated sway in her body to give the impression of being taken by the drink. “I s’m to find mys’lf starin’ at a man I mi’ know.”
For good measure, the young woman hiccuped at the Kiffar before shaking her head. Her eyes seemed to focus on him for a moment before they glazed back over. “Mebbe not.”
Tisto watched the woman, his features carefully masked. He had not known the Sephi for very long and even then, she was taken off to a medical center before he could introduce himself. “I am Tisto Kingang. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk?”
Mana gestured at the seat in front of her. “Not l’ke the oth’ one is comin’ back.”
The young Peacekeeper sat down at the table, his eyes constantly watching the woman before him. “I represent a group of people who would benefit from having you around. I was wondering if you would care to join us?”
Mana shook her head and pointed at the glass. “Too s’n for big que...ques...questions. Have a dr’nk. ‘m buyin’.”
The Knight-Commander looked around the club and winced. It would be rather difficult to protect this beautiful, sickly girl if things got out of hand. He quickly began to formulate a plan to get her away from the main body of the club and if there might be more private setting where they could talk without the listening ears of those that desperately sought the Jedi and their new hiding place. As if she could read his mind, the Sephi leaned forward and smiled at him, her eyes focusing and unfocusing as she watched him.
“You’re an int’resting one,” she said, her voice was low and deliberately sultry as Mana picked up her glass.
