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| - Enterprise Tower - Executive Suites A small but adequately furnished waiting area. There is a desk situated in the middle of the room where a young and beautiful female Sarian sits answering the Holonet and other such duties. On the back wall a large flag hangs from the ceiling. It's black with a red hexagon in the center of it. In a slanted font the letters FLS are emblazoned in yellow across the hexagon. Plush couches and chairs line the walls and stop just before the immaculate doors blocking entrance into the CEO's and COO's offices. There are four large guards standing to either side of each chief officer's door. They stand motionless and unmoving, unless someone attempts to enter without permission. Things are quiet in the office this morning. It's way too early in the morning for any sane person to be here. But Eva Sargent is here. Sitting in the half darkness. It's so early, the building's automated systems haven't even turned the rest of the lights on. It's the kind of dim lighting that the little sweeper driods love to run around in. Through the windows, dawn is making itself visible over the hills. Sargent's sandaled feet are crossed at the ankles as she sits in one of the waiting-area chairs. As she waits, she reviews a datapad. Might as well be productive. Sargent's receptionist seems surprised at the early appearance of the two strange visitors from yesterday, but the human woman seems to have a particular knack for reassuring her that they are indeed expected, and after the Sarian agrees to buzz Eva Sargent for them, Jessalyn steps back and gives Orson a cautious look, folding her hands in front of her. It seemed a better idea to try to catch the overworked executive early in the day, before she could be distracted, and when fewer people are around to interrupt... or interfere. The Jedi isn't terribly sure this is the best setting, but she wants to keep things on Sargent's turf for the other woman's sake. "See, no problem," she says under her breath to her companion. Walking along on Jessalyn's flank, Orson is quiet and reflective. He suspects some sort of trickery, really, and despite not having voiced that concern to Jessalyn, his reservations would be obvious to her. While he wasn't -wanted- really, his name had been in the news, along with Karrde's, related to that unfortunate business on Tatooine. With time to prepare, Sargent could easily ... it's too late for that, they're already at her door. "Good morning," Orson says with a Jedi-like incline of his head to the accommodating assistant. "Indeed," he says thoughtfully to Jessalyn, taking a step forward. Sargent isn't really in her office. In the dim lighting here, she may not be completely visible in the large-ish waiting area, together with the short corridors that lead to the executives' offices. But there she is, waiting in the chair outside her office door. Waiting for them. She is set out of her office, so the comm system relays the signal to her wrist comp. It buzzes her, and she swallows. She has just enough time to stand and sweep some of the wrinkles out of her attire before they are upon her. Time to get this show started, she psyhces herself up. "Good morning," she begins politely. Turning on her heel to face Sargent, Jessalyn smooths her expression into pleasant lines once she realizes they are actually in the same room with the other woman. Gathering Orson with her eyes, she takes a few steps into the waiting room to greet her. "Good morning, Ms. Sargent," Jessa says, inclining her head in a gesture similar to Orson's. "I hope this isn't too early a time to meet. Should we go someplace where we can have some privacy?" With a lift of his chin, Orson quietly sniffs the air. The circumstances of their departure and then quick invitation back were a little odd. Then again, the stakes were high enough to merit personal risk, apparently, so that's what they were doing. "Hello," Orson greets, clasping his hands in front of him. For the second time in as many days, the broad-shouldered man wonders why exactly he's come here, to help. Sargent glances between the other two, again sixing up the situation she's getting herself into. With her free hand, she idly fingers the fabric of her jumper. The stiff suit from yesterday is gone. If she's going to do something crazy like this, she might as well be comfortable. "I booked a conference room in in the Plaxton Grand. There shouldn't be any distractions there. Does that sound all right? A speedercab can get us there." Listening to Sargent's agenda, Jessalyn gives a quick nod of approval, trying to be aware of any emotional indications that might betray a trap for the two Jedi. She senses no duplicity in the woman, however, and her smile thus grows more sincere. "Good thinking. I think that will work just fine." Unable to see past his own preconceived notion, Orson just purses his lips, looking down his broad nose. "Okay," he agrees anyway, shuffling his feet and aligning his body beside Jessalyn again, ready to follow when Sargent is ready to proceed. "They have a nice breakfast, I understand." With a little shrug, he throws Sargent an almost non-existent grin. Nodding to the two people, Sargent calculates how long she has to change her mind, to call this whole thing off. When is the point of no return? "The cab should be waiting downstairs," she informs them tentatively, leading the way to the lift. Regardless, her credits have already been committed to this little adventure. No refunds. On their way to the turbolift, Sargent pauses by the receptionist to drop her datapad off. "I have an appointment off-site," she informs the receptionist as a matter of course. The lift comes and she leads them into it. After a short ride from the FLS headquarters to the Plaxton Grand Hotel, Jessalyn and Orson escort Eva Sargent to the room that's been reserved for them. As she waits for the door to be unlocked, Jessalyn exchanges a worried look with her student, more nervous than she would like to be. If they are successful, and the woman allows her to remove the Sith taint from her mind, Jessa is sure the experience will only remind her of her own past, the memories that she never allows into her conscious mind, but haunt her dreams nonetheless. Quelching her fear, she folds her arms tightly around herself and glances down the corridor for any sign of trouble. "This is nice," Orson observes, hand floating a centimeter above the stair railing as he glides up behind the women on the steps. He's a little nervous himself, like he's in a place he doesn't belong, or his clothes don't fit exactly right. Still, he's recently learned how to calm himself, and in his mind, the mechanic can drift to another reality with ease, using it as a touchstone for support when it's needed. Pounding surf... low, tight waves... bright sun... With a content smile, he clasps his hands behind his back and is simply: patient. Sargent's hand trembles for a moment as she slides the keycard in to unluck the crucible, er converence room. Hopefully, no one noticed. that's the last thing she needs right now. To get all emotional and lose control of herself. She opens the door a crack, then suddenly pivots around, having second thoughts. "Both of you don't need to be there, do you?" she asks in a very regulated manner, trying to not let her nerves poke through. Her eyes flance back and forth between the pair. They land on Orson for this last part, where she drops her professional guard a bit. "My mind is a very personal thing." While never intending to let Orson accomplish such a thing so soon in his training, Jessalyn had privately hoped to use it as something of a lesson for him. Still, it was obvious that Sargent had her reservations about Orson, and if his presence would be a hindrance, then it might indeed be better without him. Hiding her disappointment, and an inner tremor of fear at trying to accomplish this without his emotional support, she inhales a strengthening breath and nods her dark red head. "I understand." Turning, she gives him an apologetic look, touching his arm lightly. "Do you mind, Orson?" While gracious, some little corner of him is snubbed. He reaches out and methodically tramples his way through the room ahead, the door, the circuits of the electronic lock, the empty space in the room beyond. That focus returns and centers on Sargent for a moment, but Orson relaxes. This wasn't about -him-. Not this part. "That's fine," he says simply. "If Sargent would be more comfortable..." He takes a symbolic step backwards, dips fractionally from the waist and waves a hand. "I'll wait." Where exactly he'll wait, and what he'll be doing is another matter entirely, and the man gives Jessalyn a meaningful look of support. Giving support is exactly what he'll be doing. He could be in the next room or in the next system, he was sure distance wasn't a factor with feeling her. Not with their bond. With that, he turns and wanders down the hall a bit. Orson sends through the Force... Orson is fine, but obviously concerned for Jessalyn. "I'll commandeer a room and relax." What that means is he'll find a vacant room, persuade the electronic lock to admit him, fall into a meditation and offer as much support for Jessalyn as he can -- not much, really -- while at the same honoring Sargent's wishes. Sargent is greatly relieved that this point hasn't been a big struggle. She nods with dignified thankfullness to Orson. "There's a cafe on the next floor down. If you get hungry," she offers as he departs. With that, she enters the conference room, walking toward a random chair about 60 toward one end. How many times had Sargent had real appointments kind of like this one, where complete strangers had been sent to assess her mental state? She takes a deep breath and turns to face Jessalyn. "What now?" The question is asked in a regulated tone. Eva keeps reminding herself that she is an intelligent and somewhat together person. Jessalyn watches Orson leave, squaring her shoulders, and seeming to come to some sort of resolution as her gaze lingers on his departing figure. Then she follows Sargent into the now opened room, making sure the door is locked behind them, and going to a plush chair that is opposite of the one Sargent has chosen. "This might seem... a little strange, at first," she begins awkwardly, then she blows out a breath, smiling and trying to relax. "Why don't we start out with you just telling me what you remember as it happened. We'll go from there." She spreads her fingers out on the arms of the chair, her eyelids drooping slightly as she calls on the Force, using it to cover the space between herself and the other woman. You sent through the Force to Orson... As Jessa watches Orson leaving, she sends out a grateful tendril of herself, letting it linger with him even after he's departed. Just knowing that he'll be vigilant over her, no matter where he is, gives new strength to her heart. Sargent takes her seat, relaxing as much as she can. One step at a time. Take this one step at a time... Her hands sit folded in her lap while she gazes at a random spot on the tabletop, as if to watch her memories play out on a screen there. Her breathing is quiet. "I should have had a feeling about that day. The landspeedser I borrowed had broken down, and it started to rain. The driver was trying to fix it when an old man ran up to us. He sounded like he was in trouble. He wanted my help. SOmetimes I wonder if my biggest mistake was deciding to help him in the first place," She admits. "Somehow, he got the engine started. I got a glimpse of what I might be getting into at that moment. That he was one of those people like Skywalker." Sargent looks up to Jessalyn with the name. Her use of it is purely professional detachment. "We all piled in and drove off. Then he showed me an old artifact, and explained how he was being chased by someone who would kill to get it." "He was a Jedi," Jessalyn confirms, sensing a bit of Sargent's memories as they float up to her surface thoughts, but she does not yet probe any deeper than that. She fills her lungs with air the same way she fills herself with the Force, and her skin tingles as she seems to float upon that vast matrix of the past which spreads infinitely into the future. "Stasus... he's the one who was chasing the Jedi?" Taking another deep breath, Sargent continues. "I think so. I wouldn't be albe to answer that question conclusively in a court of law, though," she qualifies. "The old man never said his name. All I have to go on are physical descriptions and the account of an eyewitness. But I'm getting ahead of myself. We were chased." Her gaze falls to the table again. ""ANd we crashed. Horribly. The driver died instantly. All I could think of to do was flee. I grabbed the artifact, which had been shaken loose, and ran. I looked back only once, to see the old man die in a fireball, a blonde man dressed in black standing over him." She looks up at Jessalyn, carefully. "Can you tell me what happened next?" she asks, just above a whisper. Eva goes to the next place in her memories and stays there, saying nothing. Her face visibly pales, concentrating on the place that is a no-place at all. If she could describe it, she would be standing in a landscape, in the middle of a field of debris. Dust and rubble all around, all barren. The aftermath of a great stormy demolition. In the distance, on the horizon, are shapes the become recognizable. There are footsteps here, from where Eva has wandered about, trying to find anything in this wreckage that she can piece together. Trying to identify anything that looks like it might be a piece of a memory. Other footprints are here too. Just one set near the edge, as if someone took a peek. The imprints are clearly bigger feet than Sargent's own small pair, and they smell like the Emperor, Valak. The red-haired woman has eased toward the edge of her seat, her eyes closed now and her brow furrowed with concentration. But despite the intent look on her face, the actions of her mind are exceedingly gentle as she reaches out with the Force, taking this as her invitation to begin weaving her way into Sargent's mind. The memories are there, however buried or hidden, and Jessa tells herself she'll be able to uncover the truth. Her own personal gift is a remarkable ability to siphon off emotional trauma, much the same way another Jedi might heal a physical wound with the Force, and though she is usually averse to using her powers in this way, she knows this is one of those times she can't shrink away from it. Following along the path of Eva's thoughts, she pauses at that place of wreckage, observing the footsteps and the barren landscape as if a war had just taken place. But when she recognizes the source of those footsteps, she has to fight to keep from recoiling. Valak. He was in on this, too? He, who had trapped her own soul for two lost years of her life? Anger flashes, and then disippates in her mind. "It was the Emperor," she hears herself saying, not even recognizing her own voice. "You were running... from Stasus. For a long time. Months...." It doesn't even take a diplomat, trained in observing people, to recognize that Jessalyn is extrememly troubled by this. All Sargent can read is the expression on her face and the tension in her voice. Only a handful of people knew about the Emperor. Knew that while she was still paralyzed, recovering in the hospital on Caspar, she had woken from a drug-induced slumber to find herself at an unknown Imperial facility, Bacharan Valak himself standing just a few feet away. How he had touched her forehead, how she had felt an icy column of fire course down the spine she couldn't even really feel, how he had ordered her sent drugged back to Caspar without barely even speaking to her. This verifies that Jessalyn is the real thing. Concern and sympathy spring up spontaneously, and Sargent imagines herself taking Jessalyn by the hand and leading them gently back to someplace where the memories are whole again. She can't see Jassalyn, but she can imagine it and hope it does some good. "It was Bazil McKenzie of NRI who told me it was Stasus." Her voice responds carefully in the real world. Stasus and someone called Simon. With a profound sense of relief, Jessalyn allows herself to be led to gentler images, feeling the change in Eva's demeanor. She doesn't disengage herself from the other woman's mind, but her eyes do open as she speaks to her out loud. "Valak is the one who's tainted you," she says with a sigh. But then she tenses at the mention of Simon, wondering why she's so surprised. She had known he was involved with Cort and the Sith. Shaking her head at her own blindness, she draws a steadying breath. "It -was- Stasus," she confirms. "He's the one who was after the cube. I'm sure of it." Her fingers clench into fists where they rest on the arms of the chair. Something doesn't compute. The improbablility of Jessalyn's first claim sends a twitch of visible confusion into Sargent's face. the confusion lingers. "But did he get it? I need to know." The sudden urgency in Eva's voice surprises even her. "There's a possibility the cube had been swapped with a fake one, and the real one destroyed." She remembers the shock of finding out about the switch from her friend Pallando, whom she had apparently hidden with for a while. "There's a possibility. It could still be lost, out there. Maybe that's why he hasn't killed me yet." The truth is so completely backwards in her present mind. She would have no way of knowing how, in a twisted way, she holds onto the falsehoods as if they are the truth. She doesn't remember that the real cube had been returned to her, and she can't understand that the Emperor had put something inside her. "No," Jessalyn says with certainty, her mind buzzing with the Force, sensing the smug glee of the fair-haired Sithling. She had never met Cort Stasus before, but from the hidden memories of Eva Sargent, as well as what she knew from Simon, Jessalyn's sense of the man is remarkably precise. Even this secondhand knowledge of him is enough to give her chills of dread. "Stasus has the cube, I'm sure of it." She leans back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "I'm even more sure it was Valak who affected your mind. It will be very... difficult to remove anything that he has done to you. But it's something that must be done." Sargent bites nervously at her lower lip. As if to figure out the reason for the figety motion, her hand reaches up from her lap to feel her face. Her face feels hot. Why would it feel hot? Questions buzz around in her mind. She thought she could dismiss the whole episode with the Emperor as a bad dream, a bad day. It was over, wasn't it? But it wasn't. What did this mean? What did he want? Why her? She was a nothing. She had been ready to let go of life itself, ready to die, the day before she met him. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?" Even if the answer is yes, she's not sure she could believe it. Suddenly drained, Jessalyn gives a slow nod of her head, looking back at Eva with weary eyes. "I wish it wasn't so. Believe me. I've been his victim, too." Impulsively she reaches out to grasp Eva's hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through this." True compassion is in her eyes, and a desire to right what was wronged, for Eva and for herself. "To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm strong enough. Skywalker has helped you before... we may need to call on him again." This is worse than Sargent suspected. Much worse. She doesn't want to believe it yet. It's a struggle while her eyes are locked with Jessalyn's. Emotional support might be nice, but this lady is still a complete stranger. "Thank you, Ms. Valios. We might," she says as formally and as genuinely as she can. It's true that she comes away from this encounter knowing more than she did. But it's still a shame she has to keep second-guessing her gut desire to believe that it's all true. "Do you want to stop? Until later?" Not sure how much the tired Jessalyn is still in her mind, Sargent wouldn't mind stopping at this point either. Hesitating before she answers, Jessalyn straightens her spine and stretches out her arms, releasing Eva's hand, and surprised at how drained she is from the Force-exertion. "I think that's a good idea," she says slowly. "Luke is actually on Caspar. Let me talk to him first. I would hate to get caught in something Valak decided to booby trap you with," she adds with a tired sigh. With that she relaxes her hold on the Force, slipping fully from the woman's mind, and leaving her thoughts as her own once more. "Thank you for trusting me enough to try this," she says as she starts to rise from her chair. Sargent finds herself about to say, what did I have to lose that I haven't lost once before already?, but that strikes her as not the most appropriate thing to say. They both need to decompress from this experience, not wallow unnecessarily in it. She rises from her chair also, giving Jessalyn a kind smile instead. "Should we go find Orson?" Calling him Mr. Tighe is a little too formal for this setting, but she says his first name formally anyway. "Is there someplace the cab can drop the two of you off?" she offers. It's only the polite thing to do. Raking a hand back through her hair, Jessalyn stands fully, a sudden smile spreading over her face. "There's no need for a cab, thank you. Let's just go find Orson. He'll be relieved we're done," she says in a kind voice. As Jessalyn's mind becomes fully available again after her encounter with Eva Sargent, she reaches out to find Orson, reassuring him that she's all right, though terribly drained and saddened by what she's discovered, and needing his arms. *** Fountain Square - Plaxton City The huge buildings in the background threaten to take over this small patch of green that is the center of Plaxton City. A stone fountain -still in place from another time- sits in the center of the square. It depicts a young woman looking into the sky. Water flares around her and bursts into a star pattern ten feet above her head. The inscription at the base of the fountain is written in the aging language of a more romantic time. 'Farewell, for all journeyers that leave this place shall always return to call it home.' Newly planted, lush trees now dominate the square, shading the area from the mid-day sky above is clear. Dark bushy leaves cover the branches, offering shade for the ground below. Patches of well maintained grass surround the base of the trees, allowing space for visitors to relax or picnic. The central, most famous area of Plaxton City, seems to become more and more park-like with the frequent additions and maintnence. A pair of Marines quietly watch over the area. **** Orson pumps her hand thoughtfully. "Nice to meet you, Elana," he says, mind on something else. "I -am- visiting, but I saw the beaches yesterday. You're right. Exceptional, and great for sport." Releasing her hand, Orson waves at the exit to the hotel, like someone's standing there. "My ... friend ... and I, rode repulsorboards yesterday. It was a nice time," the man says distantly. He flicks his gaze to the big trailer of gear. Orson sends through the Force... Orson is a little pillar of solid support for the woman, and a doting caretaker. Tenderly, he touches, feeling if she's in one piece. "Well then...you don't need my meager tour guide advice," Ellie replies with a grin. Seeing his glance to the entrance, she takes that as her cue to get on about her business. "Nice to meet you, Orson. Enjoy the rest of your visit." With that, she takes a civil step back to indicate she's ready to move on. Well, this has taken a while. Sargent and Jessalyn have been searching for Orson. He wasn't in the hallway right outside the conference room. He wasn't in the cafe Eva had mentioned on the next floor down. He wasn't to be found in the lobby either. Hopefully, he was around somewhere. FInally, Sargent steps out of the front doors a moment to take a quick glance around the square. The weather out here is delightful, but the sun is rather bright after the ambient lighting in the hotel. She squints. Suppressing a knowing smile as she exits the hotel with Eva Sargent, Jessalyn Valios pauses outside the door and shields her eyes with her hand. There are plenty of people milling around, but she focuses on a distant tree points in that direction. "There he is," she says confidently, giving Sargent a tired smile as she leads the other woman in that direction. As they approach, she notices the woman standing near Orson, apparently talking to him, and smiles a slight greeting as she slides her hands into her pockets. "Oh, well... then," Orson replies with a quiet frown, looking back once more at the hotel. Sargent catches his attention for a moment, and in that span of time, Tracer has stepped back. When Orson returns his attention to her, he lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. "Nice to meet you too. And thanks." Those sort of people keep a place's economy booming. Nice, friendly folk, armed to the teeth and decked out like they are preparing for a beautiful war between young and athletic models. Tracer follows Orson's gaze a second time and lifts one of her slender dark brows. Glancing over the unfamiliar redhead, Elana gives Sargent a tentatively friendly smile. "Eva...?" she ask her new acquaintance, then cocks a half-grin at Orson. "Small galaxy, huh?" She waggles both black brows now with a little knowing smirk and waits for the women to approach. Sargent follows Jessalyn's gaze as best she can, to the tree in question. Oh. Yeah. There he is. She gives a weak smile to Jessalyn that would say, Yay! if she felt more enthusiastic. As it is, she lets Jessalyn take the lead as they walk toward Orson. She gives the familiar Tracer a nice smile too. "Yes it is." Looking too tired or bashful would make the rest of the people milling around this square wonder about her sanity, so she does her best to act normal. Jessa returns Orson's worried gaze with a reassuring smile that she is, in fact, still in one piece after all, a little silent communication between the Jedi and her student taking place in the seconds before Jessa and Sargent reach the other two. "Hi," she greets a bit awkwardly, losing some of her usual graciousness. The exhaustion in her eyes seems to be a good indicator of why that is. She goes to Orson's side and tells him, "I think we've done what we can do for now." Orson re-orients broad shoulders to Jessalyn and gives her a slight tip of his chin. There's little substitute for physical assurance, and he reaches around her slender shoulders and squeezes with one arm. "Good," he replies simply, casting a critical look to Sargent. She looked the same. "Elana, this is Jessalyn." With a wave of his hand, he squiggles a little line in the air, substituting that for the normal back and forth pleasantries which go along with an introduction. If Tracer had any idea what kind of folk Jessalyn and Orson were, she might run screaming...well, not quite screaming, but she'd depart swiftly. Pallando's warnings against interaction with Tarzeks, Skywalker, Teague and their ilk had peppered her hyperspace dreams from O'Paal to Etti IV to Corellia and home. So, for now, she smiles always glad to meet new friends and potential customers. "Hi," she says again in her casual, girlish greeting looking up at the tower of redhead from her short statured position. "Were you Orson's repulsorboard buddy yesterday?" she asks Jessalyn, not able to imagine Sargent on a wave board. But this strapping woman, certainly. Hoo, boy. This is awkward. Sargent would say a little polite Hi to Orson, but he seems to be preoccupied in the process of making introductions. It's awkward enough walking into a conversation, without the nagging feeling that /she/ should be the one who's obsessing over who has met who yet and making sure that introductions are properly made. She just stands back, seeing where this eerily normal conversation is headed. "I was! It was my first time out," Jessalyn says enthusiastically in reply to Elana's question. "More fun than I thought it would be." She's smiling, but still clearly drained, and she doesn't mind leaning a little on Orson's shoulder for support. Glancing back at Sargent, she looks thoughtful before asking, "Do you need someone to escort you back to FLS?" Pretty much unrelated to the small gathering that is taking place somewhere in this square, Daana makes her way into, and across the same. Just having arrived moments ago, she is already headed for the shore, and then ahed to the swoop racing garage at the mountain ressort. - Again. - As relative quick paced as she might be, her gaze is far from fixed on her destination (not that she could see it from here), but strays, taking in her sourroundings with interest, and from the smirk on her lips and expression in her eyes, in a state of perpetual faint amusement... Behind his back, Orson's hand creeps out, dragging the tips of his rough hands over the bark of the tree he was leaning against a moment ago. 'How old are you?' they sing, in the childlike voices of fingers. "I'll take you," Orson offers crisply to Sargent, shifting his weight to offer more support to Jessalyn. Back to Tracer now, smoothly: "We had to purchase a board for Jessalyn. I got her an intermediate unit, but I think she's ready for some more power." There isn't a hint of anything in his voice, and he's simply relating the beginnings of a good story to this new friend. "Oh?" Intrigued and amused, Elana wonders if there is more to their venture on the Caspian whitecaps. "Well, as friends of Eva's...if you decide to trade up, I'll tell my salesbeings to give you a good deal." Her offer given with a look to both Orson and Jessalyn, Tracer now looks over at Sargent, not familiar enough with her to be sure if the woman is exhausted or just normally looks a bit frazzeled. There is a question for Sargent in Tracer's ice-blue eyes, but she waits, letting her reply to her friends solicitations. Sargent clasps her hands behind her back. Though she is dressed casually, and tired, the proper young lady who would feel right at home in a stiff and cold 6-inch tube comes back with a vengeance. "No. Thank you, though," she replies politely. "I'll be fine." That last bit certainly was an optomistic thing to say, given the circumstances. They were here to help Eva, after all, so Jessalyn gives the woman a particularly worried look, wondering if she truly will be fine. But Sargent seems stoic enough, and the Jedi doesn't want to press her luck. So she tilts her head back toward Tracer. "Orson's the expert, he would have to pick out a new board for me," she says in a casual voice, surprised at her own ability to appear normal when she feels anything but. Then she gives the man a strange look, eyeing the tree, and then himself, frowning slightly. Daana passes the group in a bit of distance, and for a few moments she glances over. Over Sargent, to Tracer, to Jessalyn...back to Tracer. Her pace slows, for a few steps, her glance more then just random. Afterall, that face she had been payed to rember, not long ago. Chucking to herself, Daana returns to her original pace again, before her gaze wrestles away from the group again. "Okay," Orson replies simply to Sargent. He'll likely follow her anyway, or check in at her office later. "I might take you up on that, Elana," the mechanic says, using a different voice and posture for Tracer than he does with Sargent. His hand wanders to Jessalyn's back and rests there innocently. "Does your shop do custom work?" Behind Tracer, a pair of Sarians bring out a couple small crates on a lifter from the hotel loading dock. She gives them a nod and with a flick of her remote, Tracer gives them access to her trailer. The workers load the crates into the RSI logoed hovercraft meanwhile.Just vaguely, Tracer begins to notice that there is something beneath the surface of this trio. She casts a curious glance at the new pair but then takes her chance to ask Sargent, "Will you be in system long? Ernie had asked me to look you up a while back...and I wanted to, but...then you weren't here." It's her turn to feel awkward now, trying to make it sound like she wouldn't just visit Eva because Pallando asked her to, but because she actually -liked- the woman. She then replies to Orson, shifting herself from social awkwardness with Eva to business-self-assurance with Orson. "Oh yes. State of the art facilities and all..." she grins. Well he took that better than Sargent expected. It's the kind of rejection of a polite offer that can leave a mark for years, if one is in the kind of negotiating situation where people notice those sorts of things. Her attention swings to Tracer to reply. "Oh, yes. I got tied up in some business that needed to be taken care of, then I was gone for a week on vacation. I'm back now for a while." She tries to put more life into the words. Tries to be more... normal. Her eyes glance at the sky. "I think I'll walk. It's a nice day." Feeling herself drifting out of the conversation, Jessalyn gazes up at the clear, calm blue sky, trying to use the pleasant images to assuage her feeling of bleakness. She gives Orson a small, grateful smile, returning her attention to the words being spoken, but finding nothing to add, she just nods her head at the appropriate points. "I'll probably have some work for you then," Orson tells Tracer, mindlessly. Something about the small woman's appearance... Quirking his mouth, he continues, "Just some parts for a few tweaks, really. I guess I can do that myself." Letting his hand fall to his thigh and slapping it quietly, Orson seems to give a start which indicates that he is ready to start walking too. Where exactly he's heading is up in the air, but he's been here all day. The loaders finish with the cargo, and one of them comes silently towards Tracer. He hands her a datapad with a manifest on it which she types in her acceptance code for and returns it. All this transpires quickly and routinely then the workers disappear into the busy hotel. "Sure," she give a friendly shrug to the tinkerer Orson. "And we have bays available if you want to do your own work. And speaking of the shop, I need to get over to it." It was across the sea, on another continent, through an ancient town and up a mountain afterall. Caspia's often dangerous landing conditions made it impossible for a direct landing, so she and everyone else was relegated to landing at Union Starport and using ground transportation for anywhere outside Plaxton City. "May I call on you at the beach house tomorrow?" she asks Eva specifically, her former military protocol kicking in to override her casual pilot banter. Sargent is grateful to be able to take Tracer's lead out of the conversation. "Sure. I should get going, too. I'll see you all later." A litle smile tops it off. It's a universal thing to say, Sargent knows. But somewhere, deep down, she sincerely means it. Let's see. Where is she going? There is a guest back at her house, so she can't really be alone, to think, there. Then there's the FLS building. Lots of people, but she can lock herself in her office and take a nap on the couch. Yes... A nap sounds good. With a universal wave to the group, she starts away. Jessa lifts her hand in a wave to Sargent as the woman starts off alone, her shoulders falling with the release of a heavy sigh. She hadn't accomplished what she wanted, but at least some of the pieces of the puzzle had been brought together at last. And Sargent seemed to trust her now, which was vital. Putting all those unpleasant thoughts from her mind, Jessalyn senses the intention in Orson's frame, and turns, taking him by the arm. "Ready to go back?" she asks cautiously. Orson takes a step. "Sounds good," he murmurs, to no one in particular, head suddenly hurting. Sargent, the likeness of this woman Elana, the support he needed to give Jessalyn... it was a bit much for him. With a steadying breath, he sets off, into the street and past the bright colored swoop trailer. The small talk and the swoop loading overwith, Tracer shakes off the odd feelings the coversations gave her and hops into her little blue sportspeeder. With a revving hum of hoverengines, her own personal convoy glides into traffic and heads west out of the square.
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)