Ashton
A powerfully built man whose eyes and smile coincide with his young and athletic-looking physique. Averaging these two factors, a guess that the human male is somewhere in his early twenties is close to accurate. His light brown, almost sandy-brown hair is just longer than collar-length with a slight wave at the bottom as if it's starting to curl. He has light hazel eyes, more green than brown, but this changes with his mood or outlook. He is rather average in height; no more than five foot ten inches tall.
Ashton is wearing a worn-looking, gray flight jacket, made of a soft nerfhide. The jacket is light enough to wear indoors and still seems like it could withstand the elements rather well. Under the jacket is a collared shirt, designed in a muted shade of blue. His pants are black and tucked into a pair of comfortable-looking shin-high boot.
Kastanje
Your glance singles out this young woman, despite her somewhat short stature. She's on the slighter side of average for a human, no more than 5'4", and doesn't seem to bother compensating with flashy clothing. Narrow, seasmoke-blue eyes are set symmetrically into an aristocratic face of smooth, sandalwood skin. But despite an appearance that could easily turn haughty, the eyebrows on this young woman are almost always arched with mirth, her eyes pulling up into crescents. The faint hints of laugh wrinkles branch from the corners of her eyes, but they're too shallow to put her in more than her late twenties. Her slightly frizzy fox-brown hair is pulled back into a long, practical fishbone braid. A few wisps manage to poke rebelliously out of the neatly kept style, keeping it from seeming too severe. Almost a microcosm of the impression she's appears to be cultivating.
This young woman's wiry frame is clothed in the fine materials of a form-fitting peridot green tunic, pearlescent fasteners closing it up the front. Her pants are a rough woven material, slate gray in color and adorned with swaths of blue curling in a spiral down her legs. Overtop rests a black flak-vest, a melted rend gaping in the fabric of her right side. Sturdy boots of some synthetic black material protect her feet, and a smooth gray stone pendant inscribed with some illegible symbol hangs from a cord around her neck. Two inconspicuous red pips on her collar mark her as holding the rank of Army Captain to any familiar with Republic military.
Ket
Before you stands a humanoid, 5'10" in height. While he is average in height, he is thin compared to most humans. His lithe frame causing his movements to have an air of ease, almost like a dancer would move. His thin face is framed by a small cropping of brown-blonde hair that is trimmed in military fashion. Short on top, and nonexistent on the sides. Moving in on his face, his blue eyes peer out from behind deep sockets. His thin lips hide a set of straight white teeth. By human standards, he would be considered attractive. He is currently wearing a set of black fatigues, devoid of rank or insignia, but not lacking in numerous pockets across the front and sides.
Arrus
The human man you see is unusually tall and overweight. His curly black hair is cut short, and although the large, bushy beard makes him look a bit older, he is clearly in his mid twenties. His bright green eyes, his largish nose, and a mouth that seems perpetually curved into a smile give him a rather jolly appearance. From the look of his lightly tanned skin, it's safe to assume he doesn't get out much. His big hands look like they've known a great deal of work. He wears a loose fitting black shirt that billows over his large frame, which is tucked into his loose blue pants.
Coruscant Spaceport/Concourse, Coruscant
High above the skyscrapers reaching up towards the sky, this spaceport is one of the busiest in the galaxy. Several platforms extend outward in all directions with people boarding and disembarking various vessels parked at the end of the spidery arms of the platforms. Each platform has runners of various colored lights leading people to and from various places. A few vendors here and there are scattered about selling hot caf or teas to the passengers as they wait for their flights to arrive. Metal benches are set in some out of the way areas and are often times filled with the weary traveler as they wait patiently for the next leg of their trip.
Ashton is on the tarmac of the closest landing pad to the main spaceport. He looks up as a small freighter continues to lift off and move into an outbound vector. Smiling, he turns away from the now-empty landing pad and starts back towards the spaceport. Maybe a visit to the Spires is in order, he thinks, as he adjusts his jacket slightly. It was becoming habit with these street clothes. His tunic stayed in place so much better than the normal clothes he wore out in public when not acting in an official Jedi capacity.
A small argument seems to be occurring by the exit walkway from one of the smaller commercial landing ports. A cluster of beings, some sitting on nearby benches and others standing and gesturing animatedly, all seem to be trying to get a word in to a conversation between a Sullustan in a steward's uniform and a young human woman of somewhat short stature - Kastanje. Her voice rises momentarily to be heard above the crowds, "I'm truly sorry for your rough landing, but I must assure you all, queasiness is not a medical emergency. I'd suggest finding something fizzy to settle your stomachs over at the Terminal Spires club." Kastanje turns to finish talking to the Sullustan, who looks a bit overwhelmed.
Arrus is walking slowly through the area, not paying too much attention to what goes on around him as he moves. He seems to be lost in thought, his eyes not really focussing on anything in particular. His large hands remain folded behind his back as he moves and his mouth is curved into a small smile. His curly, unbrushed hair makes it look as if some small animal is sleeping on his head.
Ket slowly appears from beneath the bowels of a small troop transport that has recently landed. Striding down the plank that the ship has lowered. Stopping as he reaches the bottom, he takes a deep breath peering around at the scenery of the starport. He wears the uniform of a Republic Intelligence officer, some would notice recently inducted by the proud skip in his step as he dons the uniform.
Ashton makes his way past the last of the crowds until he is within sight of the Terminal Spires. He starts to heads towards the club when he feels a familiar presence. He turns about, and in moments, easily spots the military doctor amidst a throng of beings. He smiles softly, closing his eyes in amusement. When he re-opens his eyes, some of the more animated beings are calming down and helping others get their things so that they can get away from the commercial vessel as quickly as possible. Ashton silently bets they won't be booking passage with that company again.
Kastanje seems to be almost shielding the Sullustan from the questions and exclamations, responding to only a few of them and repeating her suggestion to find something soothing over at the Spires. Her tone of voice remains polite and sympathetic, though a furrow of frustration was starting to appear across her brow. It quickly vanishes, however, as it appears the passengers are starting to give up and disperse. A look of relief spreads a smile across her face, and she devotes her full attention to a few last parting comments with the steward.
Arrus continues along, mostly unaware of his surroundings and the events that occur around him. One of his hand strays to his face and he begins to stroke his bushy beard. He doesn't seem to notice that he does this, his attention seemingly focused on his other hand, which fishes around for something in a pocket within his loose shirt. His smile momentarily twists into a frown when he doesn't find whatever he was looking for, but it returns quickly as he begins to hum to himself.
Ket places his hands in his pockets and begins his walk towards the cargo area of the transport. Looking at its rough surface he admires the years of scars and scuffs from its collisions with the hazards of space. His attention is in fact so absorbed in the side of the ship that he neglects to notice as he moves beneath the ship towards one of the exhaust vents. Without any warning, the ship quickly vents some spent exhaust gases through the port, right onto Ket's unsuspecting self. Just as quickly as it started, it stops, leaving Ket standing there in a daze. He takes an unsure step forward, before suddenly collapsing onto the tarmac.
As if jerked from his daze as he was watching Kastanje, Ashton turns as feels something through the Force. He cannot see Ket for the first few moments as the exhaust cloud is still dissipating, but he sees the body tumble forward as Ket collapses. His body is already in motion, and he passes rather close to Kastanje as he goes to where Ket just went down. "Captain," he calls out as he runs by, waving a hand for her to follow him.
A reassured bit of laughter escapes the Sullustan at some comment Kastanje makes as she waves; the cluster of passengers all but gone. The woman reaches down, picking up the awkward bag that had been pressed between her feet and slinging it over her shoulder. A few steps towards the Republic Way are all she accomplishes before a call of 'Captain' from a familiar voice snatches her attention. "Ashton?" She responds, her voice questioning as she breaks into a jog behind the man, her pace quick to catch up.
Arrus snaps out of his reverie as his attention is drawn by commotion, and he makes his way over to see what is going on. He moves rather slowly, his large frame and lumbering gait not resulting in a particularly speedy individual. He folds his hands before him as he walks, unconsciously flexing them every few seconds.
Ket managed to break his fall as he went down, his body collapsing onto the ground face first. His complexion has gone pale white, but he is still breathing in shallow slow breaths. The only other outward sign of injury being the scrapes on his palms and temple where he impacted with the course ground.
Ashton arrives at Ket's side first, but he knows Kastanje is right behind him. He reaches out, gently laying a hand on Ket's side, not attempting to move or roll him over until the doctor arrives. "Lie still," he says, knowing the downed man can hear him, but barely.
Ket senses: As Ashton's hand touches you, a warm glow is felt. It's not visible, but you can feel it. As the glow spreads over the body, any pain is drastically reduced, but no damage is healed.
Kastanje comes to a sudden stop as Ashton bends down, quickly taking in the thin, pale man collapsed on the ground. "Well, guess I don't need to ask why you called me..." she comments to Ashton, letting the Jedi take a look at the figure on the ground as she quickly scans the area for lingering threats. Blue-gray eyes pick out the gape of the exhaust port, and an eyebrow raises. "If we can move this fellow, I suggest we do so. I doubt a lung full of fumes will do any of us much good."
Arrus is the last to appear near Ket and stands a good distance away, as he doesn't know any of them. His big eyes show concern, and to a lesser degree, curiosity. His near-constant smile fades as he instead presses his mouth into a thin line.
Ket Danby continues to lay on the ground, his shallow rhythmic breathing only interrupted as Ashton's hand touches him. He inhales sharply, before exhaling in one long slow breath. He resumes his shallow breathing once again.
Ashton nods to Kastanje although he doesn't look her way. His eyes are on the man lying on the ground beside him. "His pain should be mostly dulled by now. It looks mostly like burns and abrasions. But we're going to need some help moving him." He looks up from his kneeling position and quickly spots Arrus standing well out of the way, but still within plain sight. "You sir..." he says, pointing to the mechanic, then waving him over. "Give a hand, would you?"
Arrus nods to Ashton and walks quickly over. "How can I help?" He speaks slowly, seemingly putting great thought into each word. His voice is deep and booming and carries the same concern that can be seen in his eyes, but he gives the impression of being a nervous person.
Kastanje directs an uncomfortable glance at the exhaust port, and crouches down on one knee to allow herself a cursory visual inspection of Ket. "Efficient of you Ashton, I'm doubting my own utility in this situation," she comments with a slight chuckle in her voice, inclining her head in greeting to Arrus. "I think we need to move him, and you look like you might be more able at that then myself," the Captain flashes a quick thankful smile to the large bearded fellow. Her quick examination of the uniformed man turns up the scrapes on his hands, "Looks like he caught himself falling..." She observes, glancing up at the overhanging exhaust port again, a thoughtful look on her face.
Ket Danby's breathing slowly starts to increase as the group ponders the exhaust port problem. Without any warning he begins to cough, his body shaking with each violent release of air. After several moments his coughing subsides to several soft, choking sounds, his eyes begin to open to slits as he stares face first into the hard asphalt. Attempting to move his hands out from beneath himself, he begins into another violent fit of coughing.
"We've got time. That blast was the cyclic vent of the ship. It fires off three times before the engines fully wind down. Each blast is five minutes apart." Ashton lifts his head to Arrus. "Get his feet," he says as he moves over to grab Ket - but pauses as the man tries to move on his own. As the coughing fit hits Ket, he reaches down and slides a hand under the man's arm. He pulls the man toward him, causing him to roll over so he's laying face up. "We're going to move you. Stay still..." He then loops his arms under the man and around his chest as Arrus gets the man's feet. They lift Ket and prepare to follow Kastanje as she leads them off the landing pad.
"Ah," Kastanje voices in regards to the information about the exhaust port. Mechanical ship things - not her forte of understanding. The woman tilts her head slightly, watching as the two men pick up the coughing fellow and circles back towards the front of the ship and the walkway down. "There's a bench just off this pad?" She offers as a suggestion, glancing back over her shoulder as she leads on.
Arrus lifts Ket's legs with little effort, his eyes examining the fellow. He coughs quietly without opening his mouth to clear his throat and moves as Kastanje directs. Deciding that Ket will be okay, he allows a small smile to return to his face.
Ket Danby is still not quite sure what is going on, his eyes have opened a bit more allowing him to see the blurred figures that surround him. His coughing fit having stopped; he opens his mouth and begins to move his jaw as if he is about to say something, but the attempt is useless as he is rocked with another fit of coughing.
"I think he got a lung full of that stuff," Ashton says as they arrive at the bench. He eases Ket down onto the bench so that he's on his back, looking up. The Jedi nods at the medical officer's bag. Looks like you came prepared for an emergency. Sure you don't have some special insight I haven't detected yet?" He asks with a playful smirk. He's moved away from Ket's side, allowing Kastanje in to examine the man further. The fumes were not toxic, but the wounded man had taken in a huge dose of it and from Ashton's limited medical training, he knew the man would probably need some sort of injection to neutralize the poison. And if Kastanje didn't have the right thing? He could try to detoxify the poison using the Force.
Playing trailbreaker through the usual crowds in the spaceport, Kastanje makes certain to stick close in front of Ashton and the two strangers, foregoing her usual nimble weaving through the crowds in favor of a bold stride, a few well-placed 'looks', and a slew of apologies in a few different languages. The bench gained successfully, Kastanje directs a quick smile at Ashton. "No, overreacting steward - Called in a flight of space sick passengers as a 'medical emergency' and I was sent to triage." She doesn't sound upset at the inconvenience as she sets her bag on the ground and starts opening pouches. "Don't suppose someone knows what 'that stuff' is? Can't use a detox if I don't know which one."
Arrus offers an answer, his deep rumbling voice thoughtful. "It's most likely dilitherate gas, used as coolant in its liquid form. Very toxic... I've never encountered it myself, but I've heard it can cause paralysis if it isn't counteracted within the hour." When he finishes speaking, he regards the other's with a surprised look as if he had forgotten there were people listening, but suppresses it quickly.
Ket Danby doesn't seem to notice the gloomy forecast for his future, he instead continues to attempt to speak, but he still has a bit of the gas left in his lungs, and the coughing continues well after he is set on the bench. His Uniform, which had been pressed so firmly, is now ruffled, torn, and blooded on his sleeves around where he scraped the skin off his hands. He peers through narrow eyes at those around him, trying to understand what has happened.
"Triclorotate," Ashton says, quickly identifying the counter-agent. Although he means to say this to himself, as he's only mentioning it to make sure he still remembers the correct vaccines necessary for certain poisons and gasses. Part of his early training when he was discovered to have a natural healing talent in the Force. He looks at Kastanje with a grimace, "Sorry..." as if he had insulted her. As if out of habit, he lays his left hand on Ket's face for a moment. When he moves his hand away, the abrasions are gone and Ket's face has healed.
Kastanje's eyes widen as the bushy fellow offers some insight. "That the appropriate counter for dilitherate?" She queries, assuring herself that was what Ashton was talking about as her fingers nimbly slide along the edges of small containers in her bag. "Thank the stars for whoever sorted this bag," she comments to herself, any slight felt by Ashton's reminder ignored in favor of the task at hand. A small cylinder is pulled out, the label regarded appropriately, and a tidy little syringe produced and filled. "Oh, someone might want to find a damp cloth... Put it over this poor fellow's face. Ought help with that coughing some."
Arrus watches silently until Kastanje asks for a damp cloth. Hesitating a moment, his hand drifts to one of the barely noticeable pockets dotting the surface and inside of his shirt, and withdraws both a cloth and a small metallic container of water. After a moment or three, he places the damp cloth over Ket's face.
Ket Danby has finally managed to regain some of his mobility, slowly as if they were covered in cement; he pulls his hands up from dangling off to the side. He tries to bring them up to his face so that he can hold the cloth, but soon finds that he has not regained his strength and they fall limp onto his chest. He looks up at the face of the mechanic, searching for a sign of what is wrong with him.
"Relax," Ashton says soothingly to Ket, his voice both assuring and commanding at the same time. He nods to Arrus to keep the cloth here until the man's strength begins to return, which could take several minutes, unless he was a fast healer. He lets his hand fall onto the man's shoulder for a moment, before turning his attention to Kastanje.
Kastanje flicks the syringe to clear stray bubbles from it. "Ah, thanks much," she says to Arrus as he provides the damp cloth. "Hot exhaust, dilitherate or no, is rather drying for lungs." As the medic captain speaks, she grasps one of Ket's rather limp arms in one hand and reaches around beneath it with the other to get a good angle as she stabilizes the limb, her target a vein near the armpit. In one deft movement the syringe is inserted, compressed, and removed again, her finger pressing over the needle prick for a few moments as a small pressure dressing is smoothed over the spot. "Now, if we're all right in our assumptions, our friend here should be just fine quite soon," she offers cheerily, her tone of voice mostly for the benefit of Arrus and Ket.
Arrus offers Ket a smile when he notices the man looking at him, and pats his shoulder gently in an effort to reassure him. As he looks to Kastanje and Ashton once more, he realizes what Ashton did earlier and his gaze becomes respectful as Arrus recognizes him as a Jedi. His eyes widen a fraction more when he realizes he doesn't even know their names. "By the way, my name is Arrus," he offers, his tone friendly.
Quientin wanders slowly into the spaceport making his way slowly towards the Terminal spires club looking extremely tired this evening.
Ket Danby manages to drag his hand up to his mouth, taking the cloth from the larger man. His coughing seems to slowly subside, but he doesn't attempt to get up yet. He speaks coarsely through the damp cloth, "Can... anyone..." a soft cough, "... tell me... what happened?" Taking a deep breath he peers out at the crowd.
Ashton smiles as the man is able to speak and take a deep breath without coughing. He steps backward a few steps, nodding to Kastanje, but unsure if she sees it. The Jedi doesn't say a word though, instead letting the real doctor take over. He adjusts his jacket again. This thing was going to drive him nuts if he didn't get used to it. But it was better than the looks he got wearing his normal clothes.
Kastanje flashes a friendly smile over at Arrus' self-introduction, re-packing the medical bag as she sits back on her heels and explains the situation to the fellow on the bench. "Well, it seems that you happened to be in front of an exhaust port on your ship when it cycled... Ashton," and she gestures with one hand to the man in the flight jacket behind her. "Somehow managed to see it happen. You got a lung full of some rather impressive coolant gases, which Arrus here was kind enough to enlighten us about," and another gesture tips her hand thankfully at the large bearded man. "But don't worry, I've given you the counter-agent, and you should be just fine. Though I would advise avoiding those exhaust fumes in the future," she winks good-naturedly at the man on the bench, and then adds as an afterthought to Arrus and Ket: "Oh, I'm Kastanje."
Quientin makes his way slowly through the crowd coming to spot at the small cluster of people around the coughing man. A slight frown shows on his face as he looks slowly about.
Arrus shrugs his large shoulders, as if to dismiss his role in the matter. "I just happened to be passing by, I'm glad you'll be alright." His smile grows larger as one hand drifts to a shirt pocket to fidget with something. His other arms remains at his side, his hand clenching every so often to grab a handful of his loose, baggy shirt before releasing it, and then repeating.
"Another exciting night... I should hang out at the spaceport more often," Ashton says with a grin as Ket decides to rest where he is. "Well, I'm headed over to the Spires. Care to join me, Captain?" He inclines his head to Arrus belatedly, "And you too, Arrus... if you wish."
"Sounds grand," Kastanje responds with a smile, standing up and shouldering her bag. She glances over at Ket for a moment. "Don't feel right just abandoning this fellow here, and he does seem to have a republic military uniform on... Mind if I catch up with you both later?" She asks, and then exchanges a few words with Ket. "I'll be back, just going to help him somewhere safer," she explains with a wave, and then offers her shoulder to the man for support.
Quientin slips through the crowd and says, "I'll help ya with him Kas"
Arrus nods, his big head looking a little comical as it bobs up and down eagerly. "I'd love to join you, I don't have much else to do." He withdraws his hand from his pocket and lets his arm fall to his side. His large eyes remain fixed on Ashton, a rarity for the thoughtful man.
Ashton nods in understanding of Kastanje's intentions, then turns to Arrus with an even smile. "Well, if there's something to do, it's probably in the Spires," he quips, then turns slightly, starting towards the club. He turns to Arrus as they walk that way, "So, you work here in the spaceport? Oh, I'm sorry, didn't formally introduce myself back there. I'm Ashton... Ashton Quince." he says, offering his hand as they walk.
Arrus takes Ashton's hand in his own big one and shakes it vigorously before releasing. "I'm Arrus Errion, and I understand... wasn't exactly normal circumstances." He chuckles softly but heartily, and his smile gets a fraction wider.
Terminal Spires, Coruscant
The Spires is a somewhat classy club, but it caters to all the types that frequent spaceports. The elegant look the designer strove for has been subdued with a more rustic look. The long bar on the main floor is made of heavy wood and barstools with backrests line three sides of it. Dozens of tables are strewn across the main floor, except for the small stage area set up to the left of the bar. Two sets of stairs to either side of the main entrance lead up to the second level, which has windows that look out over the spaceport concourse on one side, and the city on the other. Another smaller bar is located upstairs with a smaller selection of drink mixes.
Ashton leads Arrus into the club, making his way down to one end of the bar left alone by most of the patrons. Finding an open space, he sidles up to the bar and lifts a finger to the bartender who lifts his own hand to let Ashton know it'll be just a moment. No stools here, but as he doesn't plan to stay at the bar anyway. When the bartender finally arrives, he lifts an eyebrow to Ashton. "Usual?" to which the Jedi nods, then gestures to Arrus, "plus whatever he'd like..."
Arrus shakes his head and says, "Nothing for me, thanks. I had a big meal not too long ago, and if I had anything else I might burst." He laughs for a short time at that, placing his hands on his large stomach as he does so.
The bartender nods and moves down the bar to pour a drink from container in the cooler. He returns with a tall glass of green liquid, which he slides in front of Ashton. "Thanks," says the Jedi, then turns around slightly. "There's an open table," he says, gesturing towards a four-seat table near the deserted stage.
Kastanje enters the club, this time without either bag or body in tow. Seems she got Ket safely stowed somewhere. The somewhat diminutive woman rocks up slightly on her toes to scan the club area for Ashton and Arrus, milling people entering and leaving through the doors blocking her view. She sighs, and threads her way past a few nearby tables to push in further where things aren't so busy.
Quientin makes his way slowly into the bar wiping off his hands as he makes his way towards the bar.
As they are on their way to the table, Arrus excuses himself, saying something to Ashton before heading back towards the exit. He doesn't see Kastanje enter and exits right behind her as she moves past a small group of people. Ashton smiles at the retreating figure, then heads over to 'his' table and pulls out a chair and sits down. He turns to see Kastanje entering the bar and he lifts a hand so that she can see where he is.
Kastanje brightens as the wave gives her direction, an answering wave letting Ashton know she sees him. The Captain makes a stop at the bar first, resting her elbows on the counter as she relays her order to a bartender. Something steaming in a thick ceramic mug is retrieved, and credits change hands. Tanya walks carefully over to Ashton's table, the mug held lightly in both hands so she doesn't burn herself. "Arrus have to leave?" She inquires once she's close enough.
Quientin takes a seat silently at the bar. Speaking silently with the bartender he exchanges a few coins with the man and a few minuets later is served an oddly colored drink.
Ashton nods as Kastanje joins him. "Something about forgetting something he had to do." He takes a drink of tea as he rises as she takes a seat. Setting the glass on the tabletop, he resumes his seat. "So he's safe and sound now?" Ashton asks, referring to Ket. Sitting back in his chair, he watches Kastanje as she answers, absently rubbing at his now-exposed chin. Was different going without the goatee, but he kind of liked the feel of the wind on his face without the extra hair.
Kastanje nearly drops her mug on the table, releasing it as soon as she can and wiggling her fingers to try and dispel some of the heat as she sits, a smile curling the corners of her mouth at Ashton's respectful standing. "Yes, I called in one of my medics to keep an eye on him and get a few details once he felt more like talking. Pats tends to shirk menial duties, but he'll do good with our exhaust-victim," she wrinkles up her nose slightly in amusement at something.
Quientin leans back in his chair at the bar and looks slowly about at the occupants here. Slowing sipping his drink, he just simply people-watches for a time.
Quientin stands slowly from the bar having spotted Kastanje sitting at that side table and begins to makes his way through the crowd towards her.
Kastanje leans over to blow air over the surface of her mug to allow Ashton a chance to drink some of his tea before responding. The steam from whatever liquid it is clings oddly together like a small, hot, fog.
Ashton notices Quientin approaching the table and offers the man a smile. "Someone you know?" he asks Kastanje quietly before the man arrives. He nods as Quientin arrives at the table. "Evening..." he says, amiably.
Quientin smiles slightly as says, "Evening sir." he looks over to Kas, "Kastanje, mind if I join you?"
Kastanje looks up from trying to cool her mug slightly. 'Scalding' is just not the right temperature for drinking things at. "Not at all, have a seat," she responds pleasantly, gesturing to one of the two remaining chairs at the table. "And yes, this is someone I know," she agrees, voice taking on an almost jestingly formal tone as she offers official introductions. "Ashton, this is Captain Quientin Fraeya, Acting maintenance Chief. Quientin, Jedi Knight Ashton Quince."
Ashton smiles, almost embarrassed, but not quite. He takes another drink of his tea. Thankfully, Tralusian Leaf is served chilled, not hot. He sets the glass down, nodding to Quientin. "Nice to meet you, Chief... I think I've seen you around the spaceport on occasion." He glances up at the stage. "I guess middle of the week is not a good time to expect entertainment," he says with a smile, but he wishes there was something going on to offer entertainment. If nothing else, it might distract anyone who might notice his minor fidgeting. And settling into a calming meditation in the middle of the bar would not be the best thing to do, but he does take a small breath to call upon the Force to help a little. To Quientin, he finally adds, "And you can just call me Ashton... no title necessary."
Quientin eyes widen just a bit as Kastanje announces Ashton as a Jedi knight, but he nods and says softly, "It is a pleasure to meet you Ashton." he extends his hand across to the other man silently.
Kastanje's eyes twinkle with merriment as she pipes up with: "Something about your title reminding you of tiresome Senators, wasn't it Ashton?" The mug is raised to her lips, tilting just barely to allow a taste test without potentially flooding her mouth with hot liquid. A startled jerk pulls her head back away from the ceramic mug as her drink is found to still be too hot. A sigh escapes Kastanje and the cup returns to the table as she regards the handshake. "As far as entertainment goes, I'm not surprised they don't have something scheduled constantly... Prices here aren't *quite* high enough to afford it," she notes with a wink at the two men.
Ashton shakes his head, reaching over to touch the mug with his hand. "It's not that... management here just doesn't take the time to book the talent. I spoke to one of the bartenders the other night and he told me the owner just doesn't like recruiting talent. They should come to him to offer their music or whatever on a platter. Arrogance like that is going to cost him this club." He nods towards the mug as his hand returns to his side. "Should be better now..." He doesn't mention that many Masters would see such use of the Force as trivial and parlor tricks, but if it kept Kastanje from burning herself, he considered it worthwhile.
Quientin blinks slightly as he watches Ashton not exactly sure what he has done there, "Why wouldn't the owners want talent in here? I'd think it would draw in more of a crowd."
Kastanje arches an eyebrow at Ashton's interaction with her drink, and takes an experimental sip. Both eyebrows rise suddenly, perhaps with surprise at the new temperature, or maybe just with appreciation for her drink. Unaware of any usual frowning upon this sort of trivial use, Kastanje's flashes a brilliant smile over to Ashton in thanks and then replies to the comments about the club. "Oh, I doubt the owner is against entertainment... It's a pride sort of thing - some people consider performers almost a lower class, and it's possible the owner could consider it beneath him to solicit their work."
Ashton smiles again, slightly embarrassed as Kastanje graces him with a smile. Then he nods in agreement with her. "Yeah, especially here on Coruscant. People here tend to respond to classes. Stupid caste system, if you ask me, but... no one does." And he flashes a slightly wider grin, "unless they need something from me."
Quientin nods and says softly, "I guess I still got a lot to learn about being planet side." he shakes his head slowly.
"No classes in a merchant ship," Kastanje agrees with Quientin, her smile taking on a rueful quirk. Ashton receives a curious tilt of her head for his last comment. "That's rather rude of them, then... I'd think people would have more courtesy for the Jedi that help them." But therein my lie the problem if class thinking encourages citizens to think of helpful Jedi as people there to serve them. She noticed something of that with Tai when she first met him... "You both ought to make sure you don't let yourself be regaled to one of those 'lower castes'," she advises, trying to keep her voice light so this doesn't turn into one of her family's political debates. "After all, you both hold jobs that serve people. Might get stepped on if you allow it."
Ashton laughs quietly, "Oh I doubt anyone but the senate thinks a Jedi is there to serve them, although it is what we do." He shrugs and then takes a drink of his tea. His fingers are clutched a little tighter than normal around the glass for a moment, but they relax after a moment. "Jedi serve others rather than ruling over the, for the good of the galaxy," he says, quoting directly from the Jedi code, although he doesn't make it sound too much like a formal quote.
Quientin shrugs and says, "People have been walking all over me my entire life...why would it be different now that I have a important job."
Tai enters into the bar quietly, proceeding to the back of it where he sits in contemplative silence. Flagging down a server droid, he orders his usual water before looking at the wall opposite of him in total peace. Back facing towards the rest of the bar, he seems more than content to be alone.
Kastanje levels a firm look at Quientin. "It has nothing to do with a person's status or job whether they should allow people to treat them badly or not. Merely a matter of what you allow to happen." She takes a long sip of the drink from her mug, a pleased look lightening her momentary sternness in enjoyment of her beverage. "And I do think you're right, Ashton, that most citizen's don't think of Jedi as their servants, but I've encountered a few cases where they *expect* help instead of appreciating the effort you all put into your duties."
Ashton shrugs lightly, "I suppose... but then again, just because we are more in tune with the Force than another, doesn't elevate us to a position of respect or nobility. I think we have to earn that on an individual basis." He pauses in his train of thought as he feels Tai's presence. Mentally brushing the Padawan and alerting him to his presence, he waits to see if Tai has any interest in joining the group rather than inviting him over loudly and forcing him into an interaction he doesn't want a part of at the moment.
Tai feels the brush from Ashton, but opts not to join them, instead just continuing to sit by himself at his table, sipping his water. Perhaps he truly is fascinated by what he sees going on upon the wall opposite of him.
"Oh, of course," Kastanje interjects as Ashton pauses, unaware of Tai's presence and too eager to clarify her own position to think much on why the Jedi paused. "It's not the fact that you're in tune with the Force that deserves respect, but what you do with it. Same as other skills -- While great ability in a field does deserve merit for the effort needed to gain that ability, it's not worth too much until used for something beyond simple demonstration."
Ashton smiles and inclines his head to Kastanje. "You have an admirable quality, Captain. Not many people see that quite as clearly." He chuckles a bit, "Of course, I forget that you've spent a bit more time around Jedi than most do. You and Tai being friends and all." The Jedi Knight finishes off the tea and sets the empty glass on the table. After a few moments, a frown crosses his face. "Wow, it's getting late..." He looks over to Kastanje, "I should be getting back to the Praxeum. Have an early morning tomorrow... Thank you for having a drink with me." He offers her a sincere smile and starts to get to his feet.
"It helps," Kastanje admits with a grin, regarding her friendship with Tai. She stands for a moment too, offering Ashton the same courtesy he showed her when she joined the table. "It's been my pleasure chatting with you... Sleep well," she offers with a cheery smile.
END OF LOG