Nar Shaddaa

Layne, suffering a few bruises here and there, decided that what she needed more than anything was a drink. Normally one would go in for some medical attention. But Layne had a long history of doing that only after getting her drink on. If it was good enough for Korriban, it was surely good enough for Nar Shaddaa. So here she was, at some generic-as-shit imperial bar, getting the cheapest drinks money could buy.

And as she walked in she would see some generic ass Imperial noble sitting at the bar with a drink in his hand. He'd be wearing a military dress uniform with a lightsaber at his hip. He swirled the drink around in his hand as he stared off into the distance. Eyes not locking on to anything in particular.

She sat down next to him and flagged the bartender.

"Anything'll do," she told them, "Just so long as it's cheap."

Sylvain turned and chuckled, "As long as you promise not to have your spirit guardian mess up the place this time, I'll offer to buy your drink so you can have what're you'd like."

She gave a small sigh, "You still on about that? He's long gone."

She shrugged, and Layne then pointed at a bottle behind the bar. "Let's go with the one with the weird color."

A true connaisseur.

He chuckled, "Looks like you took Haydriss up on her proposal."

With the bartender delivering the weirdly colored bottle before them, Layne poured the both of them a glass of whatever the hell it was. Presumably, given they were in an imperial bar, it was safe for human consumption at least.

"She's weak, needing to call others in like this. At least it lets me keep my skills up to date."

Sylvain nodded, "At least you came back in one piece."

He took the cup in his hand and raised it to toast, "To not being killed in a weak woman's silly contest."

"As if there was any doubt," she said, a bit perplexed and then raising a toast. She was pretty sure she did it right, despite not ever having toasted anything as far as she could remember.

"So, what's with the uniform?"

He took a drink from his mystery cocktail and put down the glass before straightening his spine out a bit at the mention of his uniform, "I've got a bit of a formal meeting with a diplomat in a bit, this is a bit more palatable an aesthetic for most of them. Something about all black and ominous clothing with a metal mask that doesn't scream... 'let's talk nice'." Sylvain said with a smirk.

"And besides, this is how I dressed for a great portion of my life up until now. There's a bit more familiarity with this than the Sith stuff for me."

"Whatever works, I guess. Personally, I think intimidation factor ought to be a useful negotiation tactic. With that mask on, even you could inspire terror in the republic."

She took a drink also, and decided that its taste was acceptable.

"So, diplomacy is what's been occupying your time?"

"There are times when that's the best route; that's why I have that option as well... and then there are times when that is useless." Sylvain replied.

"Diplomacy is what our lord has asked me to put my attention into." He replied. "How was your trip to Kintan? Find what you were looking for?"

"It was fine," she said, neglecting to mention the passenger she picked up and the succesful conclusion of her ritual; that level of trust wasn't there yet, after all.

"I guess. Picked up some spice to sell."

"Spice? Is that what you went out there for?" He asked a bit confused.

"Just a nice little bonus," she shrugged. "The force provides, or something like that."

He chuckled, "I suppose so. As long as you don't start dipping into your own stash... and can keep it away from our own men... then have at it I suppose. Especially if you can pawn it off onto some Republic fool."

"Careful there, you're almost starting to sound like one of those ridiculous vids Zeno puts out."

He chuckled, "There's plenty of fools in the Republic even if they aren't all fools. Just as there are plenty on our side as well. Hence... why I'd appreciate you not shelling it off on to some idiot on our side who will most likely make a mess of themselves and others."

"Such a humanitarian. Not that it'd matter of course. Imperial spice addicts will still get their fix no matter what."

"They will... but the responsibility for their failures would be equally yours as it is theirs." He took another drink.

"But you don't seem to be the type that would mind, so perhaps it is useless to suggest."

"People are responsible for their own choices. Nobody's forcing them to turn their brains to mush, they do that all by themselves. Besides, it's kind of cruel to blame me after the empire put me to work mining the stuff."

"By the same logic you just used... it was your fault for being stuck mining that spice. You could have chosen death." He replied.

"The conditions that we create significantly alter the types of choices that are available to individuals. Passing off your responsibility for your actions to others may be the easiest thing to do for your own psyche, but it does not remove the fact that without you... they would have had to make other choices, and it is quite possible they would not have been able to get it as easily or at all." He replied.

"Your slavers were responsible for your slavery and treatment... and a drug dealer is responsible for the dependence he or she creates in the addicts."

"That's bullshit though. I wasn't given a choice. If the alternative to doing something is death, then it's not a choice at all. The alternative to doing spice though, was simply not doing spice. They made a conscious decision to start using, and now they have to live with the consequences. It's not the fucking same."

"It is no more or less detrimental or self-inflicted than death. But whatever helps you sleep at night Layne." Sylvain replied. "The webs of control that surround us and our actions are real... no matter what you may choose to believe. Self-reflexive thought may not be your strong point now, but I feel it will help you in the long run to figure out where it is you wish to go... and how you plan on getting there."

"Riiight," she rolled her eyes. "It couldn't possible be the case that I'm right. It must be that I lack the capacity for self-reflection. No, I think I'm pretty spot on actually. Besides, have you ever even *met* a spice addict? It's way less detrimental than being death, for sure. It isn't all burnt-out neurons you know."