Post by Kaine Australis on Aug 13, 2023 5:41:24 GMT -8
As he entered the village tavern, Kaine intended to have a quiet drink. He'd hoped, somewhat forlornly, it turned out, to remain anonymous. His helmet's audio pickups caught the whispers as he entered, and he heard his own name more than once. Kad damn it. Then it got worse. There was a band playing in a corner of the tavern, an Ortolan, a Bith and another species he didn't recognize. The Ortolan recognized him, though, alerting his bandmates. A staccato drum beat accompanied by the twang of a string instrument started playing. The Bith crooned.
"Your Tihaar is in trouble, Kaine Australis in de room
Your Tihaar is in trouble, Kaine Australis in de room"
It was a sign of respect, he knew, and of friendly welcome and recognition. Kaine tried hard not to let the attention irritate him. He nodded his helmet in the band's direction, and raised one hand, palm up, as a sort of general greeting to the rest of the patrons. Then he made straight for the bar, as, mercifully, the band segued into a classic old pop tune.
The bartender, alerted by the band's shenanigans, had a bottle of tihaar and a mug ready on the bar for the Australis Alor as he arrived at a stool. Deciding not to sit and provide a stationary target for looky-lous and botherers, Kaine poured himself a drink, slipped the bartender a credchit, and turned away from the bar to wander the room. Nobody stopped him, which was the aim of his mobile strategy. He hadn't intended to chat with anyone. A quiet drink.
He'd made it halfway around the room when his HUD alerted him to a face in his personal database of people to remember. Kaine was long since past trusting his own memory to these things. A Mandalorian could age, his eyesight dim, hearing fade, and memory slip; but wearing his tech-filled Buy'ce, Kaine had better than perfect vision, advanced hearing, and a computer assisted memory linked to military grade databases. He sure couldn't remember everyone he'd ever met, at least not until his brain was reminded by its technical tools.
A nightsister, and a powerful Force user, this one. Pomstychtive. No way to know if that was the woman's true name, but it was what he had. Thoughts of a quiet drink were somewhat regretfully banished as his sense of duty overrode his sense of laziness and debauchery. Kaine approached carefully, holding his mug. Watching for the dangerous recognition and a reaction that might signal immediate personal danger. Kaine sure didn't remember everything in his long life, but he sure remembered everyone that had ever gotten the drop on him, as this one had once.
What's a nightsister like you doing in a place like this?
He pitched his voice enough to carry to her, and to nobody else in the room. No need to alarm anyone else, or involve them in his business. For now he was mostly powerfully curious.
Mistress Pomsty
"Your Tihaar is in trouble, Kaine Australis in de room
Your Tihaar is in trouble, Kaine Australis in de room"
It was a sign of respect, he knew, and of friendly welcome and recognition. Kaine tried hard not to let the attention irritate him. He nodded his helmet in the band's direction, and raised one hand, palm up, as a sort of general greeting to the rest of the patrons. Then he made straight for the bar, as, mercifully, the band segued into a classic old pop tune.
The bartender, alerted by the band's shenanigans, had a bottle of tihaar and a mug ready on the bar for the Australis Alor as he arrived at a stool. Deciding not to sit and provide a stationary target for looky-lous and botherers, Kaine poured himself a drink, slipped the bartender a credchit, and turned away from the bar to wander the room. Nobody stopped him, which was the aim of his mobile strategy. He hadn't intended to chat with anyone. A quiet drink.
He'd made it halfway around the room when his HUD alerted him to a face in his personal database of people to remember. Kaine was long since past trusting his own memory to these things. A Mandalorian could age, his eyesight dim, hearing fade, and memory slip; but wearing his tech-filled Buy'ce, Kaine had better than perfect vision, advanced hearing, and a computer assisted memory linked to military grade databases. He sure couldn't remember everyone he'd ever met, at least not until his brain was reminded by its technical tools.
A nightsister, and a powerful Force user, this one. Pomstychtive. No way to know if that was the woman's true name, but it was what he had. Thoughts of a quiet drink were somewhat regretfully banished as his sense of duty overrode his sense of laziness and debauchery. Kaine approached carefully, holding his mug. Watching for the dangerous recognition and a reaction that might signal immediate personal danger. Kaine sure didn't remember everything in his long life, but he sure remembered everyone that had ever gotten the drop on him, as this one had once.
What's a nightsister like you doing in a place like this?
He pitched his voice enough to carry to her, and to nobody else in the room. No need to alarm anyone else, or involve them in his business. For now he was mostly powerfully curious.
Mistress Pomsty
