Ryion had just activated the open sign on his small leased toy shop when he heard the chime of the door opening. Turning around from where he was arranging cheaply-made plastine Luke Skywalker action figures on a shelf, Ryion saw two men wearing the uniforms of the governor’s security entourage enter, followed by Shara. She had some kind of bundle under her arm and was attired simply in the typical tan sari worn by the Chalactans instead of the formal attire she’d worn the night before last, devoid of coverup and jewelry. “Good morning, Lady Shara,” he said with a bow. “How can I help you?”