By Invitation Only

[Rugs]

So this is the famed Blind Eye.

The building loomed ahead of Io’an, flickering green lights lending an emerald glow to the streets around it in the fading light of dusk. He’d heard many things about the place, ever since he arrived on the Smuggler’s Moon.

Rumor said many things about the owner, Lidah Faine. Io’an didn’t know her, but it was just about impossible to not know of Faine. After all, she was the Compeer.

Some said she’d swept onto Nar Shaddaa out of the night and taken the Exchange by storm. Others said she was a long-term member of the criminal organization who’d long ago laid the seeds of her rise to power and had only recently returned from years of living a shadow’s life to reap her harvest.

Other rumors were more sinister — she’d annihilated not only her competitors but their families, down to the children, to take hold of the Exchange. Others were patently ridiculous — she was actually some Republic super-cop playing a long-con on the crime syndicate.

Io’an didn’t know which of those he believed, if he believed any at all. But intrigue swirled around Eye like gulls along Woostri’s countless beaches. And that was before Botto the Hutt launched a borderline military assault on a restaurant a few days ago.

Shame about the Fork. Io’an rather liked the place. Maybe someone would help fix the place up, like after the Rancor incident.

A guard stopped Io’an as he approached the entrance. The Sephi raised a brow, as other patrons wandered in freely, but the guard waved a metal detector wand at him motioned for him to raise his arms.

“Wonderful,” Io’an muttered. At least he’d left his lightsaber and hold-out blaster at home. Today he carried nothing more than the envelopes in his coat pocket—but they were very important envelopes.

Besides, Io’an was neither so bold nor so foolish to launch an attack at the heart of Lidah Faine’s power. Nor was he an enemy.

It’s not like I need a weapon to make a mess, he thought with a backward glance as he entered the casino. The Force whispered in his mind, as if summoned. Io’an grit his teeth and suppressed a shiver as he pushed it away. He was already trying to pointedly ignore the press of life and all its chaotic noise, throbbing at his temples.

Upon entering the casino, Io’an realized he had no idea where he was going. He was to meet two of Faine’s lieutenants, but he didn’t know much more than that.

“Excuse me,” he said, shuffling to an attendant. “I am Io’an Aetoris. I’m here for a meeting in the Viridian Room.” The attendant looked at him, as if wondering what he needed her for. “Well, this is my first time here,” he explained. “But I have very important materials for a Mr. Arkandri and Ms. Vuk.”

The attendant turned to lead Io’an off into the Eye, and he followed, checking one of his interior pockets for what had to be the hundredth time to make sure the invitations were still there.

[Meira]

Ylva had known that contracting exclusively with Lidah would be the right move. That had proven true when the woman quickly assumed control of The Exchange, and it continued to prove true now. Shortly after Lidah became Compeer, Ylva relocated the Jolly Janitors headquarters to a large building behind the Blind Eye. This building, located on a less pedestrian access road, allowed more room for her business to expand. She was able to add four more cargo speeders to her fleet and double her staff. They also were able to set up several clean rooms at the headquarters, purchase equipment, and so on. In essence, business was booming. But the best thing about her exclusive contract was what lay before Ylva that evening.

"Hello, gorgeous." Ylva said with a smirk. She stepped forward, teeth biting at her bottom lip. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to you..." Ylva reached out a hand and picked up the top plate from the stack at the beginning of the buffet line.

Her stomach growled in anticipation as she stepped up to the giant pile of rock crab legs and claws. Retrieving a pair of tongs, She grabbed a few and placed them on her plate. She then moved along the line, claiming a number of land shrimp tails and oysters as she did. She moved to another section and picked up another plate, careful not to drop the first. She filled the second plate with an obscene number of nerf fillet skewers and moved on. With those two plates balanced on one arm, she picked up one more and bade a passing buffet attendant to pile on as many fried gamwidge wings as she could manage onto it. Her first round pass completed, Ylva grabbed the top gamwidge wing off the top of the pile with her teeth as she moved toward the Viridian Room, where she'd been told she and Arkandri would be meeting with... someone.

When she arrived outside the room, Ylva was obliged to kick the door control with her foot in order to get it to slide open and allow her access. As she entered, she saw that the other party had already arrived. A quick glance around the room as she set down her plates confirmed that Thelonious had not. With her hands now free, Ylva took the wing from her mouth, chewing on the portion her teeth had pulled away and looked the man up and down. She didn't recognize him, but Ylva didn't find that too surprising. She usually didn't meet anyone that didn't directly work for Lidah until after they were dead and needed to be disposed of.

"Ghahmhwhigh hwihngh?" she asked around the mouthful of meat she chewed and pushing the plate of wings forward slightly in offering. She could always get more, after all.

[Fromikeable]

A slow morning was welcome after the last week Vance had gone through. A military assault, plugging security leaks, installing brand new sensor arrays throughout Exchange territory, tracking down bombers, working through interrogations, making deals...

And all without his favorite cafe. He hoped Lidah would get it fixed quickly; he was dying for his favorite table, his usual order, and a minute to just breathe.

With that said, today was a vast improvement. Everything that needed to be done was waiting on things outside of his control, ranging from orders he'd put in to contacts he was waiting to hear from. He had been checking his comm all day, of course, but nothing was demanding his attention. No emergencies. No crises. Not even any messes.

Just a meeting with this "Io'an" regarding some invitations.

Approaching the meeting room, however, Vance couldn't help but be a little on-edge. No one had told him that this Io'an, this interloper, was Force-trained. Vance's presence reached the room before he did, immediately inspecting the man's ebb and flow through the Force. No hostility. No murderous intent, so far as Vance could tell. That was an immediate comfort, though it did come with the knowledge that the man could be masking himself somehow.

Unlikely. If that were the case, why put his presence on display at all?

Opening the door, Vance's eyes immediately locked to Io'an, scrutinizing him. Walking in and placing a holopad down, Vance leaned forward on his arms for a minute, silent as he inspected their guest. No saber; it had probably been seized by security with the check. Another small comfort. He was either outrageously confident in his unarmed abilities, or he really had just come to talk.

Perhaps foolishly, Vance was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Finally breaking his stare, he grabbed a wing from Ylva's plate and smiled a silent greeting at her. Sitting beside her, he cleared his throat. "Welcome to the Blind Eye." Pointing with the wing, he indicated Ylva and then himself. "This is Ylva Vuk. I'm Thelonious Arkandri." Doing his best to channel his inner Lidah, Vance offered up a polite smile before taking a tiny bite of his wing, chewing it thoughtfully and quietly.

"Might I offer you something to eat or drink? In case wings aren't to your liking, that is."

[Rugs]

The Viridian Room was exactly the name evoked. A meeting room of pleasant green, with expensive-looking chairs around a fine table. Some screens adorned the walls, but they were currently deactivated. Io’an quietly thanked the attendant, who went on her way in a wordless hurry.

Io’an picked the closest chair to the door and sat, waiting for Thelonius and Ylva to arrive. Finding himself with a few quiet moments, he closed his eyes and focused. The casino’s patrons buzzed with life out on the main floor, like static across a comm channel. Io’an tried his force the sensation, force the Force, out of his mind — to seek blessed silence — but the attempt was as useful as any countless others had been.

That is to say, it didn’t, which is why Io’an was looking expectantly at the door as Ylva entered. She was... not was Io’an was expecting.

His brow knitted at her words, but he quickly picked up that she was offering wings as she nudged the plate toward toward him. “Oh, um, I ate before I came, thank you,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

That was when the other, Thelonious, arrived. Io’an’s eyes snapped to his face, attention snared by the presence of another Force user. So you do have one working for you Faine? The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the side of Io’an’s lips. A lot of rumors of strange things happening during the fight at The Fork had reached his ear, but he wasn’t sure that he believed them. A Force user — and not a half-bad looking one, to be honest — would explain a lot.

How do you bear it? he wondered, breaking eye contact to look at the table before Thelonius broke his stare. All the noise here.

Akandri introduced himself and Ylva. Io’an supposed he might have felt a moment of temporary relief that he was indeed meeting with who he was told he’d meet with, instead of preparing to get jumped in some Exchange ambush or something.

Then again, that hadn’t been much of a concern to start with. The Force, for all its annoyances, was at least useful for those things.

“I am Io’an Aetoris, and thank you, but I am fine,” he said with a gracious nod of his head. He stood, seeing as both of them were, and walked a step or two closer. “Truthfully, I expect this meeting will be brief.

“I come representing a...” he paused, eyes rolling slightly up as he searched for the word, “mutual acquaintance of Ms. Faine and myself. We are hosting the Blind Auction one week from now and I do believe Ms. Faine and those who she wishes to attend with her lack invitations.”

That was a formality, of course. No one would turn Faine away from the Blind Auction. But some decorum had to be maintained. Io’an spread his hands for a moment and smiled. “So here I am.”

[Meira]

Ylva shrugged her shoulders as the man turned down the offer. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She then reached for the shell crackers she'd managed to get onto her plate of crab legs. With deft hands, she began to crack the hard, spiny shell of one leg, fingers pulling out the meat within carefully, so as not to tear it. She smiled, and then immediately devoured the morsel. She'd have been content in the silence that had started to fall between herself and the man, but Arkandri arrived at that moment.

She glanced up, seeing Arkandri stare at the other man. She looked over to the other man and saw that he was staring back at Arkandri. For a few brief moments, their eyes were locked on each other. She was about to ask if the two had history, when she remembered that she didn't care. She turned back to her crab legs, content to let the two undress each other with their eyes while she ate. Arkandri then reached over and grabbed a wing from her plate. In a swift motion, Ylva shot her arm toward the man, flicking her wrist at the last moment to send one of the arms of the shell cracker to swing out and hit across his knuckles.

"Ay, tlau!" she hissed at him under her breath. "There's a whole table full of them out there." she said, gesturing over her shoulder. "Get your own."

But Arkandri just pushed forward, introducing them both to the other man. The other man, Io'an, in turn introduced himself at got to the point of his visit. The Blind Auction. Ylva went back to her plates of food, only really half listening to the man now. This bit was obviously for Arkandri. After Io'an had finished, Ylva looked up, cracking one of the large claws as she did.

"What did you want to see me for, then?" she asked. Ylva knew of the auction, of course. But she had never attended it. Partially from a lack of interest in such things, but mostly because she'd never received an invitation before. She'd been contracted the past several years for some clean up work after the auction finished. You get that many shady people together and there was bound to be something that needed tending to by the time the night was over. "Same as last year?"

[Fromikeable]

Vance had to bite his lip hard to keep from cursing as the metal shell cracker rapped his knuckles. Zipping his hand back wing-in-tow, he rubbed the skin with his free hand, disguising his pain under a look of mild annoyance. It was a skill Lidah had taught him; if you couldn't completely disguise a reaction, then pose it as something else.

"My bad." He ate his wing in silence as Io'an explained himself, idly checking himself for bruises and blood the whole while.

By the time Io'an was done, Vance's expression was back to neutral. "She's been wondering where our invites have been. Last year, they'd already been sent out by now." His tone wasn't accusatory so much as matter-of-fact. Lidah had been getting invites to the Blind Auction for years now, and considering that she had only grown more and more powerful with each year, it had truly been a wonder that Io'an's "mutual acquaintance" had taken so long. Perhaps the power plays by the Hutts had disturbed everyone's business? Or perhaps they had wanted to wait out the assault and see.

Whatever the case, it was about damn time.

"Thank you for the delivery then. You'll have to let us thank you. Stay for lunch, won't you?" Vance's curiosity couldn't help but leak out a bit. It wasn't every day that he met someone Force-sensitive and trained on Nar Shadaa. Even then, it was rarer still to find them so amicable.

[Rugs]

Io’an suppressed a laugh at Ylva’s defense of her wings. He was surprised Thelonious had made a grab at the woman’s food — he certainly wouldn’t have.

He kept his thoughts on that to himself, though, and smiled at Ylva’s question. Why indeed? The answer was simple enough.

“Way I’ve been told, you have a special talent for cleaning up messes, Ylva,” he said. “While we endeavor to make sure the Auction stays as clean as possible, it’s a night where Nar Shaddaa’s rich and powerful are crammed together. While some, such as Ms. Faine, have good sense, others...”

Io’an grimaced slightly and spread his hands. He let the gesture finish the thought.

“And, as I understand it further, you’ve been invaluable help to us in the regard in the past, so it’s only fitting to return the favor.” An invitation to the Auction, in some circles, was more important as a status symbol than as a way in to the event itself.

Anyone with enough credits could possibly buy their way in. But to be invited? That was a different matter.

To Thelonious’ question, Io’an merely nodded. “Yes, it is later than normal, I know. Please do extend our apologies to Ms. Faine, but the, uh, battle some time ago raised some questions that we weren’t aware needed consideration.” Of course there was always security on hand at the Blind Auction — Memento’s crew wasn’t stupid.

However, providing normal security and preparing fortifications for a faux-military assault were two entirely different things. There as no guarantee that another attempt wouldn’t befall Faine if she struck. In some ways, the Auction might make an even more tempting target.

“We needed time to weigh some of those, but we could hardly do without Ms. Faine,” he said. “Again, apologies for the delay.” He reached into his pocket as Thelonious spoke. By the time he finished, Io’an had withdrawn a set of matching black envelops, unlabeled and unmarked but for a masquerade mask seal.

“Oh, I’ve already eaten,” he said again, smiling politely at the offer of food. “But I can certainly remain if either of you have any questions.” His sea-green eyes lingered on Thelonious for a moment, before Io’an looked at the floor and huffed a laugh.

“I wasn’t aware Ms. Faine kept such talent in her employ.” Io’an’s smile was subtle, hard to read. There was a specific meaning to that. Perhaps Thelonious would pick up on it. It was meant for his abilities, after all. “It seems she’s as formidable as her reputation would indicate.”

[Meira]

Ylva's eyebrows raised up as she chewed, thinking on Io'an's response to her question. Come to think of it, it was fitting that they returned the favor. It was damn fitting. She gave the skinny man an approving nod, and then turned back to her food. Arkandri had his own questions, one that Ylva thought to be a bit dickish, but then Lidah was Compeer of the Exchange. She supposed her lieutenant had quite a lot of leeway to act entitled.

Io'an, for his part, apologized. Ylva watched him, not seeing any cringing with worry at having offended Miss Faine in his demeanor. When he referenced the events that had transpired at Fork, Ylva chuckled. Whoever Io'an worked for must have had their own large amount of clout. Such talk could easily have earned just about anyone a one way ticket in one of Ylva's cleaning transports. When he once again politely declined an offer to stay and eat, Ylva sensed that their meeting was coming to and.

"Fanks." she said around a mouthful, holding up the invitation he'd given her and then pocketing it.

She thought Io'an would leave then, but instead the man lingered, his eyes going back over Arkandri. The comment he then made was obviously meant for Arkandri, and Ylva arched an eyebrow. There was a vibe building in the room and she was very quickly feeling like a third wheel. Not one to impede anyone's game, Ylva stood and collected her plates. Moving toward the door, she bumped the control with an elbow.

"Enjoy... whatever the hell this is." she said, gesturing between the two of them with her head, and disappeared through the door.

[Fromikeable]

Raised some questions? Vance couldn't imagine that meant they had reconsidered inviting Lidah. Not only had she decided trounced the Hutts' attempt to screw her over, but they had done nothing to decrease her actual influence. An assault out in the open on an organization like the Compeer was either an act of desperation or decisive victory, and considering the mess Ylva had cleaned up over the week, it certainly hadn't been the latter.

Maybe it meant fortifying the auction a bit more heavily. That was fine by him; Io'an's employer seemed to keep a pretty strict policy on neutrality and breaking up fights. No one would come to an event they thought might turn into a warzone.

"Well no worries. We figured it was something along those lines." In truth, Vance had been doing the same thing across Exchange holdings on the moon. Everyone from Hertz to the lowliest security personnel had been checked out, retrained, reassigned, shuffled, and reorganized. Exchange security had never been bad to begin with, but since there was apparently no one really eliminating threats beyond the organization before they could form...

“I wasn’t aware Ms. Faine kept such talent in her employ. It seems she’s as formidable as her reputation would indicate.”

"You have no idea." Smiling at the thought, Vance gave a wave to Ylva as she excused herself, taking the chicken wings with her (a fact that made Vance's stomach grumble lightly). As the door closed behind her, Vance took a second to look Io'an over again, less inquisitively this time. Did he recognize him from Korriban? From Taris? From Coruscant? He couldn't tell if at all.

Vance sat back in his chair, mulling his words over for a moment. Eavesdropping wasn't an issue in the Blind Eye, but was it rude just to ask? Furthermore, how much were either of them really willing to say aloud? They were still relative strangers.

... bah, it was worth a shot. "I could say the same of Memento though. I take it that they spend some time on Coruscant?" He debated being more explicit, but left it there, sure that between Io'an's implication and the planet's mention, his meaning was clear.

[Rugs]

Io’an raised an eyebrow as Ylva made her exit. His stomach noted, concerned that he’d been overly rude. Though, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of what she said as she left. Had she noticed him eyeing Thelonious?

He hoped not.

That’d be embarrassing.

But he didn’t get much time to ponder it, as Thelonious seemed to have his own questions after she left.

“Coruscant?” Io’an asked. His brow knitted ever so slightly, as he thought he was grasping what Thel was getting at. “Well... Even I can’t say where Memento travels, to be honest. I suppose it’s possible they’ve gone to Coruscant before.”

He fiddled with his fingers, looking nervously down at the table. “I’ve visted the world, but never for long. A few days here, maybe a week there.”

Did Vance believe Io’an to be from the Jedi Order? It felt embarrassing, to acknowledge that he was not. He’d been found by a Jedi, yes, but too late for acceptance under their rigid structure.

“But that’s how most of my travels have been,” he said, looking back up at Vance. “A little while here. A bit there. Never in one place for too long unless I was visiting home. Until I came here, that is.” He motioned at the room around them, but his meaning was obviously the Smuggler’s Moon.

“And you?” he asked, wondering if he should be direct. Directness was something he struggled with though. “I didn’t know the Exchange was taking in Force users these days. He leaned back slightly. Was just a few hundred years ago they had bounties out for them.”

[Fromikeable]

Between the twiddling fingers and the nervous glance downward, Vance raised his brows lightly in surprise. His assumption, it seemed, was wrong, opening up an entire world of possibility. Where had he been trained then? A fellow ex-Sith? Io'an didn't feel the part at all; there wasn't a hint of darkness or malicious intent to him. Not even Vance had escaped that blasted Order unscathed. Was he just incredibly good at hiding it? Or was Io'an a Grey Jedi through and through?

Judging by the nerves, Vance was guessing the latter.

"Well the Compeer's made a lot of changes over the last few years." Vance doubted that needed to be said, considering how much dust Lidah had both kicked up and cleaned off of the organization when she had taken over. So much of it had been discreet, but the effects could easily be seen in the syndicate's new methods of operation.

"Back in the day, I would visit Coruscant a lot. Practically lived there." A small smile leaked on to Vance's face, barely disguising his words any more. He could appreciate directness, even if it was ill-advised to completely break from double speak. "But between the war, my education, and chance..." Vance showed his hands in a light shrug before letting them drop back to the table.

"I never expected to end up working for the Exchange, to be sure. But it's honestly one of the best jobs I've ever had." He was free. He was with Lidah. He saw Locke on the regular. He got to talk to Jayec and his family. He got to work with Ylva. He even got to deal with Jazen, trying though it may be.

His smile widened, his eyes focusing on some far-off point for a second. Then, with a small shake of his head, he was back, gaze back on his new friend.

"So where did you study then? You seem pretty educated for someone with a career on Nar Shaddaa." His presence bumped against Io'an's again, indicating what he meant.

[Rugs]

“From what I’ve heard, ‘a lot of changes’ is putting it mildly. Somehow.” According to word on the streets, anyway. But word on the streets said a lot of things about Ms. Faine. It was impossible to know what was true and what fiction.

What wasn’t hard to know was that yes, change had swept through the Exchange. Quickly. Too quickly for some, if some hidden trails in the dark corners of the Holonet were to be believed. But that was here nor there.

“My studying?” Io’an smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s not really anything to brag about. When I was a child, I went to school in my home city on Thustra, like anyone else.”

He paused, wondering how to tackle the topic of his training. Were they still skirting around the unspoken truths that hung in the air, or were they still keeping at this game, this facade? Io’an’s temples throbbed slightly. The Force couldn’t bear but to remind him of the throngs of people out on the main floor, could it?

“When I left, I learned from my mentor and took classes remotely,” he said. That was entirely true. “And whatever I could pick up trawling the holonet.” He smiled. “My mentor always said I spent too much time on it. But it brought me here, actually, and I’ve been better for that, I think.”

Here was where Memento and his fellow slicer friends called home. Here there was less wildlife, less nature for him to accidentally turn into a weapon in a moment of panic. A shiver crawled along his spine.

Io’an folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them gathering his thoughts. He sighed softly and at last, decided to break the ice further. He dropped his voice as he spoke his next words. “Nothing too impressive, in the face of a Jedi, if I understood you right.” The smile returned, but it was more subtle, more unsure. Was it proper, to speak of such things? Did Ms. Faine know of it? Surely she would know such a thing of her own employee.

“I wanted to be one, once,” he said quietly. “Who doesn’t look up to the Jedi when they’re kids? And then I found out I have this...” he splayed and flexed his fingers slowly, turning his hand over before him. What to call it? A gift? No, it certainly didn’t feel like one, not with the dangers of the Dark Side always lurking. “This ability.”

Io’an looked form his hand to Thelonious with a resigned shrug. “I guess it wasn’t to be.

“But it’s kept me away from the war, at least,” he added. “I don’t envy that of you.”

[Fromikeable]

Vance's eyebrows raised lightly in surprise. Io'an wasn't a traditionally trained Jedi? His presence suggested otherwise; whoever his mentor had been, clearly he had been part of the Order at some point. The tells were there, that disciplined approach to managing his presence clear. That still didn't explain the nervousness, the heightened sensitivity it seemed to have to every little prod and stimuli. Perhaps that was why Io'an tucked it so close?

He definitely wasn't hiding. Maybe he was just... trying to keep from being overloaded?

"It's an ability, alright." Sighing gently, Vance seemed to melt back into his chair, fully relaxing. Dropping what was left of his guard, he offered up a slightly weary smile, the memories that his newfound friend was drudging up exhausting even now, so many years later.

"The war was... Well, it was." There was no sentence in the galaxy that could begin to explain that war. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of getting through it. Too many to ever call myself a Jedi again." His train of thought lingered on that again, replaying a little fantasy he had concocted between masters on Coruscant. It was corny in retrospect; a little fantasy of himself, older and wiser, maybe a smidge shorter, being honored as a Jedi Master. Every time he'd chosen it, the reason had changed. Once because of some great work of art. Another time for the defense of some poor abused people. Another time still some great trial wherein he had refused to bow to a dark world.

He shook his head, dismissing the old thoughts. "So coming to Nar Shaddaa was refreshing, if you can believe it." A thumb pointed at the soundproof walls. "The only morals on this moon are the ones you bring with you. I'd like to think I brought enough to at least be less of a monster."

[Rugs]

“I can believe it, actually.” Io’an’s lips pressed together in a thin smile. “For a different reason.” There was no war for him to run for. Thustra had been a Republic world, but now it fell on the Sith side of the heavily-militarized border zone. Yet no ill had befallen the planet, yet. Just a change in hands, and life sauntered on for the quiet world as it had before the Republic abandoned it.

Nar Shaddaa was a civilized place. Some might disagree, given the moon’s (well earned) reputation, but for Io’an, the buildings that stretched as far as the eyes could see, the sprawl of urbanization that laid out in every direction—these were comforts.

Here he was largely safe from the dangers of more natural worlds, where his “talent” might cause an accident.

“I could do without the headaches, though,” he admitted, rubbing his temples. So much life had a way of doing that, but he’d take the trade off.

“I’d say there are worse monsters out there on this moon,” he said. “Or that planet.” He pointed up, an abstract indication for Nal Hutta. “It is funny, though, to hear that from someone in this organization, though.” Io’an laughed and lifted a hand defensively. “Nothing personal, but I think people have... ideas about what the Exchange is. For better or worse.”

“The way I see it, though, morals are what you make of them here. I just try not to hurt anyone else.” He shrugged and began to stand. Time was slipping on, and he did still have other matters to attend to. As much as he’d like to spend the evening in the handsome fellow’s company, he couldn’t shirk his other duties.

“Anyway, if there’s nothing else, I suppose I should be on my way.” He extended a hand with an earnest, if still somewhat reserved, smile. “It has been a pleasure. Perhaps we can chat again sometime. I haven’t met many other Force users since I’ve been here.”

[Fromikeable]

It seemed Io'an wasn't the only one who had come to Nar Shaddaa for a fresh chance. It was a funny thought; the moon didn't scream "welcome newcomers" the way Coruscant or Corellia did. Opportunities were harsh, work was rough, and living was a good combination of both. It was a civilized moon, to be sure, but only because of a collective understanding that no one wanted to live in a perpetual hellhole. It said a lot that crime was organized the way it was, sticking to self-created laws when there were no rules to be found otherwise.

The perfect place, in its strange way, for a few Force-users to find out who they really were, and what that really meant.

“The way I see it, though, morals are what you make of them here. I just try not to hurt anyone else.”

"I can respect that." Vance nodded in agreement. He was hardly a pacifistic, but he'd tried hard to keep killing to a rarity. It had gotten him into a lot of trouble when he'd first arrived; the old Exchange bosses he and Lidah had worked for had found his idealism unfavorable. More than a few had tried to break him of it as they'd ascended the ranks. Clearly, few had succeeded. A small victory, that.

Standing and shaking Io'an's hand, Vance gave him a full smile, genuinely warm in his expression. "I'd like that. Say the word and we'll go grab lunch somewhere. It's nice to meet someone that understands." There was a lot to Io'an that Vance couldn't deduce. His presence. His job. His story and his training. The curiosity in his eyes as he looked the man's face over one last time was apparent, a clear desire to learn more written in his pupils.

Besides, he could use more friends. He honestly didn't have many.

"We'll see you at the Auction then. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go make Ylva doesn't decimate the buffet."