The Drunk Side

 Raising a hand to her hood, Tyra slides it away from her face, loosing long tresses of silver hair. Taking another sip of her Tihaar, and setting the glass on the table she looks up at him, silver eyes boring into his without a flicker of recognition.  Time has been quite gentle to Tyra's features, although she doesn't wear near the war paint she used to, she is still attractive. Her face older, leaner, losing some of the roundness her youth had provided still shows the deadly looks that she has used so many times to fulfill the deaths of men. Her eyes still sparkle with a fire of determination and passion, although now they also hold confusion as she watches the man in front of her. In fact, her face shows a struggle to put two and two together as to why he is indeed the one standing there at the edge of the table, arms crossed, watching her.

  ..... Papa...?

 Recognition springs to her eyes after a few more moments and she gives a soft smile and slowly slides over in the booth to make room for him. She stares at him, taking in his changes. Her own force signature seems to fluctuate softly while she looks down at her glass, finally breaking her stare.

  I don't mean to bother... I honestly didn't know what was calling me here. Had i known it was you, I'd have sent a message. Besides, if it were a ship you were on, I've momentarily had my fill of them...

 Taking another sip from her glass, she looked up at him and confusion covers her face again. She seems slightly worried

  Papa I-..... I woke up on my ship a few days ago in the bacta tank. It had been floating on low power in the Unknown Regions.... according to the charts, i was in there for some time... almost eight years to be exact... My mind is still a little muddled, you must forgive me. I find myself a little.... lost. 

 Pondering the figure standing before her she leans back against the seat and crosses her legs, pieces of memories fighting for dominance. The last time she had seen her father, she couldn't remember who had been there, nor could she remember what they had spoken about, but she remembered the boundless energy she had had and visibly cringed at the thought of it. Indeed the Tyra sitting before her father seemed lethargically calm in comparison. She took another sip of her drink and finished the glass, reaching for the bottle to refill and calling another glass from the bar into her hand to pour one for her adoptive father. Something the man before her had said caught her attention and she shook her head and offered another soft smile before speaking quietly, seemingly to herself.

  Bars are familiar... Bars are consistent... Liquor is a safe haven.

  Tyra listens as he explains the calling, her brow creasing as she attempts to comprehend the thought of a planet calling to her. Yet, she nods and takes another drink before pushing her glass away and sliding out of the booth. Upon standing her cloak gives way to reveal just how much eight years has changed her form. Where she had been gaining weight, is now slim muscle. Her scars, while still visible, are faded. She still stands the same height as always, but when she looks up to her father, she has a stance of confidence that she had once lacked in her carefree youth. The Sith standing before her makes her feel at ease and she wraps her cloak around her as a blanket and smiles up at him. Hearing him talk of a fate worse than death, a rueful smile creeps across her features.

  I believe I've heard those threats before... Under my tutelage....

  Bright eyes wander around the room as she tries to recall more, but the memories dance away from the light once again and she shakes her head to clear it. It has been a very long time since her training with Master Phantom, but she cannot even recall his face. Her hand comes up and toys with a pendant hanging from the chain around her neck as she absently gazes into nothing, reaching for even a sliver of memory as to why she woke up eight years later in the Unknown Regions. Why was her ship there? Who put her in the tank? What had happened that had caused her so much damage that it was necessary? These are the questions that flit through her mind constantly. Finally after a very long, pregnant silence from her, she starts back to reality and looks up at her father.

  Not that it matters.... I am ready to see what I have missed in my time away. I will not keep you from your business, Papa... I can sense you have great things coming for you and I do not wish to impede on them. 

  She gives him a curt nod of her head, and leans in quite awkwardly to give him what can only be described as a sad attempt of a hug. Her hands make it to his arms before she hesitates and pats them, right before drawing herself back into her cloak and sits back down on the edge of her seat. She isn't quite dismissing him, the questions in her head have just won in the contest for Tyra's attention and she can no longer ignore them. She sits wrapped in her cloak, staring absently at the glass in front of her filled halfway with her drink.