“Come in,” he said as he turned to face them. “How can I help you?” He asked with a smile that he hoped was easing. 

Ordo watched every person who passed by him very intently. He felt terribly paranoid but couldn’t figure out why. Something felt off. He wasn’t sure what yet, however. The bag of candied warra nuts he had been munching on was running dangerously low. He chugged the rest of his ale and got up to go back into the cantina to refill when he saw a flash in the window. 

There was no way one of them could be here, Kaminise. He dropped his bag of warra nuts and in the same motion, had turned, ejecting the vibro blade from his wrist gauntlet and holding it to their throat. 

Aayla needed a couple of things from the a few of the different shops. The camp she had set p for herself out in the forest had almost everything she needed. She had fresh water, food, and most importantly, peace. She needed time to herself, time away. More than anything, time to think. 

When she got to the market, she began to mentally go over her list of things she intended to get. For starters, she needed a new cloak. Aayla began to walk over toward the outfitter’s shop. She wasn’t paying an attention to her surroundings. The passage of events, those being the Purge, the destruction of the order, the fall of the republic and others were clouding her mind. She was trying to concentrate on the present. It wasn’t working however. 

Aayla looked up just in time to bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention, are you alright?”

Ordo let go of the bottle of Corellian liquor he had just finished and watched it roll down the sand bank. He had been on the beach sitting in the suns for a while now, drinking, a lot. So far he’s finished off three bottles of the whiskey, and was feeling like absolute shit. And he didn’t care one bit. 

At this point, the sun was really beginning to get to him, “Wonder how long three suns would take to kill me?” he asked himself.

Ordo laid down on his blanket he had brought with him, the sand on it irritating his chest and stomach as he did so. His head began to swim and his stomach churned. He closed his eyes but that only seemed to make things worse. 

‘Maybe more,” he slurred. Ordo turned and grabbed for the bag of whiskey he brought with him, and as he did someone walked between his hand and the bag. 

Ordo yearned to not feel, to be completely incoherent, which was the only time he wasn’t thinking of Bessany. And now, his completely plastered mind told him that someone was trying to take his escape away and he couldn’t stand it. He grabbed for their ankles.