Hood drawn up, no sense in being recognized, and thank the Force hoods were still in fashion. Her time here would be brief enough. Off to another world (or another galaxy in some cases), safe and out of the Inquisitorius’ grasp. A glance at the chrono told it was nearing the promised time-- if they missed the window that was on them. Kar watched people come and go; drunks, gamblers, young people out for some fun, droids going about their business.

No Mirialan with children. Yet. Nothing in the Force seemed to focus on her with the sort of intent expected from a contact-- or foe even. The emotions of a planet ebbed and flowed around her, and she was like a stone-- causing it to divert and eddy.

She was getting ready to leave when the contact arrived-- a young adult, no older than her, though she reckoned more on the younger scale. The sort that might have just about finished their training when everything went to osik. She sensed them before they even shown themselves.

“You mask yourself well.” They greeted her softly.

“It’s an old habit.” She remarked plainly, casually.

“Good thing to have nowadays.”

Kar noted the silver and black cylinder just peeking out of their traveling cloak. This was the one she had been asked to meet.

“And the ad’ike?” Kar asked.

“Nearby, safe. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Smart.” Kar nodded and fished out the package. “Credits, newly forged IDs compliant with current Imperial scanners, tickets off world to the next safe house.”

The Mirialan took the items like they were precious cargo.