RPlog:A Little Respect

The frustration from the meeting in the last hour with Karrde finally fades from Simon's mind to something he could actually deal with. He had been respectful and trusting and... and that was that. If the man wanted to be a fool and throw away a good soldier, then so be it. He would probably get himself and his people killed for his foolish pride.

Enough! Squeezing his hands into a fist once more and releasing it, letting the rest of the tension in his body flow out of him, Simon leaves the corner of the ship he'd retreated to in search of Jessalyn. Orson had given him an excellent idea, and a practical one at the same time without knowing it.

Orson is with Drew at the ship's tactical command station: the holochess table, discussing some fine point of casino management with her. He laughs quietly and fixes his gaze on Drew with interest, the woman having just said something funny. "Anyway, I'll be scarce there for at least a few months. I'm going to put out a notice to people that we need to keep things quiet for a while. That means you too. No heavy weapons or strange cargo, be prepared for questions. Straight, at least until the Imperial attention fades."

Drew's legs are perched on an opposite chair. She eyes him almost wearily, and now replies quietly, "Alright. It'd be good if we can hire someone in the meantime, because I can't have a high profile on Selene either. Considering my past history." She smiles wrily, "I had been counting on you to be the face at the casino."

Similarly, Jessalyn had retreated to the small room designated for her during the past hour, mentally reeling from the disastrous meeting with Karrde. The man simply refused to trust them, for reasons she couldn't quite figure out. Perhaps it was some innate distrust of the Jedi, which was common enough, but his respect for Skywalker was obvious enough. The possibilities had swirled like a storm in her brain, and she sought to calm them by spending some time in meditation, calling on the Force to restore her sense of peace and direction. But after what seems like a short amount of time, a tickle in the back of her brain tells her that Simon is seeking her out. She rises from the small bunk, finding herself more relaxed than she thought she would be, and exits the stateroom, peeking around the corner in anticipation of Simon's arrival as she notes the presence of Orson and Drew in the main bay.

"Orson," Simon says when he finds their benefactor sitting as he'd expected, with Drew at the game machine. He gives the machine only a brief, disdainful glance this time. It would be perfectly acceptable if it was something more real, with an actual board and pieces you could touch. Simon wasn't going to let even his own distaste for the technological distract him from his mission now, though. He continues speaking after a considerable pause, "What is this place that we are at? I want to-" he cuts himself off as he notices Jessalyn's presence. To her, he gives another of his congenial smiles and bows his head to her.

Orson turns and looks Simon over with an exaggerated up and down glance. Good, no drawn weapons, but he is speaking with a directness that reminds him of the almost-lightsaber battle on Corellia. "A very large asteroid. Kind of a rough place in spots, anything goes here, really. Did you need something?" He notes Jessalyn's entrance but doesn't make as grand a greeting as Simon, simply talking.

Drew nods to Simon as he enters, then follows Orson's eyes to see Jessalyn enter as well. She gives her a weak smile, then returns her eyes to the pair in front of her. Her green eyes have a 'We'll talk later' look, directed at Orson.

Jessa returns Simon's smile as she steps forward, sliding her hands down into her trouser pockets and eyeing him curiously. "What is it you want to do? I'm not sure how long we should stay here, if Karrde isn't going to come around." Her lips twist bitterly, showing her disappointment.

"Let's not talk about Talon Karrde and other disappointments," Simon says, shaking his head. He hadn't meant that double-meaning, but when he catches it, a wry smile spreads across his lips. "I wanted to treat you to a time at the clothes market," he says to Jessalyn, his voice softening. "I thought that you would like the chance to feel less like one of the people who holds the fate of the galaxy in her hands, and more like the beautiful woman that you are." Some time, Simon was going to have to thank Drew for her advice.

Orson fingers the controls on his datapad and nods at Drew, catching her meaning. No need to resort to elaborate kode words and secret organization handshakes, and no need to tell Orson that the well-meaning - are they? - Jedi types don't need a lot of details on Karrde's borader businessa activities. "Well," he pronounces thoughtfully. "I think you should be able to find a good selection of things here. A lot of ... merchandise moves through this place. We've got a while too, if you're planning on going out. I've got some business and hmm, formwork to take care of."

Drew blinks at Simon's words. That's not what she meant...but... Um.... She glances back at Jessalyn for her reaction. Eyes on the two Jedi, she says to Orson. "You have a lot to show me, before I get back to the casino."

Yes, that was about the -last- thing Jessalyn expected Simon to say, for all her Jedi perceptions. She blinks, hard, and looks at the others, wondering if they share in her surprise. "Do I look -that- bad?" she teases. "I guess we can do a little exploring, if you want. But you don't have to buy me anything. I'm not really much for clothes, anyway."

Simon lets his mind wander back to an earlier stage in his life, when he'd looked upon a couple wandering through the market of his village, arm in arm. On a whim, he offers his arm to Jessalyn in the same fashion that he'd seen as he says, "It is not a matter of need, but a matter of desire, Jessalyn Valios. We started things on the wrong foot, and I would like to show you how much I respect and appreciate you." Having said that, he turns his attention to Orson and Drew, giving the blonde woman a quick nod and a smile. He says to them, "Perhaps you could show us where we should go?"

Orson smiles now, happy to see the pair salvage something of this trip, though buying clothes and destroying the Death Star seem distinctly unrelated. Perhaps ... perhaps there's a link to happiness and an appreciation for the moment that makes the two endeavors not so far apart. "No, I've got a bit here to work on. Maybe I can catch up after a while." He shrugs at Drew. He calls her an associate, not an employee. She can do as she pleases.

Shrugging her shoulders, Jessa relents and slides her arm through Simon's when he offers it. Respect and appreciate her? It sounds dubious, and she can't help but look at him a little harder, trying to gauge his intentions. "All right, I can use some fresh air at least. And you can use just my first name, you know." She raises her brows in Drew's direction, pleading faintly for accompaniment. "Are you coming with us?"

Drew shrugs back. That's not what she meant. But anyway. She gives him another one of those looks. To Simon and Jessalyn she shakes her head and says, "Can't. Got work to do." Gah. She smiles, "I'll see you when you get back."

With no chaperone and no way to know where they were going, or even if the place was large enough for them to get lost, Simon takes comfort in the thought that at the very least, Jessalyn had not rebuked him yet. Patting the woman's hand on his arm with his free hand, Simon looks into the Jedi's eyes and says, "I will try to use just your first name, Jessalyn, though on Telgosse it is only mates and close friends that speak such. All others speak as I do, using the full name as a show of respect for family and position." He pauses as he thinks of how nice it would be when she came around enough that they could actually use each other's first names properly. Wisely, he refrains from stating this.

Drew returns her eyes to her work, quietly. Jessalyn is a Jedi, and probably is well equipped to defend herself against, what seems to Drew, to be a case of unrequited affection. Or decide if she has to defend herself at all. I mean, nevermind that she gave the man advice. Right? As if Simon hadn't interrupted her hours ago from her work at the holochess table, she slouches, lets her lanky arm drape next to her, and reads from her datapad.

Jessa can't help but laugh. As for family and position, she has always considered herself a wayward orphan; it's hard to have respect for a past she doesn't even have. But she stifles the laugh, not even thinking of anything she's accomplished on her own merits, and begins to guide Simon toward the ramp. "Very well. Perhaps you can at least consider me a friend, hmm? Besides, my name is just too long to repeat it all the time. Most people just call me Jessa." But then her attention returns to Drew. "I wish you could come," she says back over her shoulder to her, sincerely. Being alone with Simon on an unknown asteroid sounds like another adventure waiting to go wrong. "We won't be gone long."

Drew doesn't look up from her datapad, but she smiles. "So do I." She's going back home to run a casino on her own. Gah, again. "Have a good time," she says pleasantly.

"'Jessa' might be easier, as it is like a nickname or term of endearment. Those are used commonly on Telgosse," Simon explains as they move toward the exit. He watches the exchange between Jessalyn and Drew, smiling somewhat triumphantly as Drew makes it clear that she can not tag along. Spending time alone with Jessalyn in a strange place... Simon could think of many worse things. Perhaps they'd even avoid speaking of Skywalker and the Jedi and actually enjoy a good time. Miraculous things happen, from time to time.

____________________________________________________________ Sunken Esplanade -- Asteroid Kappa

When one steps onto the esplanade they are immediately hit by an assortment of smells and odours, some appetizing and some that well, belong no where near food. The eerie feeling that prevails on the upper concourse is lifted here by fluroescent lights and bright signs that hang, some crookedly above the stores and bars that litter themselves throughout the esplanade. Being the most southern part of the Asteroid the temperature is a little cooler than most other areas, but that is offset by various open flames that have been placed intermittently around the area. Waftings of liquor and food flutter through the air on the crisp asteroid air. On the esplanade one can find an assortment of wares being offered; from flesh to ale, and weapons to ships. ____________________________________________________________ After leaving the ship, Jessa and Simon's exploring leads them down into the esplanade below the main concourse of the asteroid base. It's the kind of place she's seen on a dozen worlds, a clash of classes and cultures, where everything and everyone from the vast spectrum of the galaxy can often be found, glittering lights hiding a seedy undercurrent. Still, anything can be had here, and the bustling of the passersby, customers and daytrippers is somewhat invigorating after the confinement of the ship. With her arm still linked in Simon's, Jessalyn looks about like a wide-eyed child. "Of course, you should be comfortable with whatever you want to call me," she goes on, a bit absently as her smile widens.

Simon's eyes roam about the various areas offering their wares, accepting the glitz and show for what it is. He, too, has had nearly two years of traveling throughout the galaxy to find places like this. He has felt the pulse and heard the hungry growl of the monsters that are hidden behind the fancy decorations. It was as primal as the jungle, only more vicious in some ways, and far less honest. He lets his senses reach out to watch for unseen dangers that might threaten them, even as he tries to concentrate on paying attenting to Jessalyn and her words.

"I will like calling you Jessa," Simon says, letting his eyes move back to the profile of her face. "It pleases me to be able to call you by any name, now. The time that I watched you sleep was long and disheartening."

Jessalyn quirks a smile at Simon, curious about that time before she was wakened, and aware of a strange, tickling sensation of familiarity about Simon whenever she thinks about that. But shyness makes her avert her eyes when she feels his gaze on her, and she clears her throat as they near a small shop displaying higher-quality wares, including a boutique of clothing obviously designed for a variety of female humanoid species, garments woven from the finest synthetic and natural materials, silk and linen for warmer climes, and thick, insulated wear for those bound for colder environments. She pauses there, chuckling and shaking her head. "I don't know, this place might be too fancy for my tastes," she quips.

Simon stops and stares at the various attire as Jessalyn directs her attention. While her eye might be selective and appreciating, weighing, Simon's is akin to a lower level species trying to figure out why bark grew on trees. He cocks his head slightly and his brow furrows in almost confusion. He responds, looking back at Jessalyn, "Maybe."

Telling a woman that something is too fancy for her is a poor plan, especially when you're trying to win her affections. Simon realizes this, and says after clearing his throat, "I'm sure that it would not look too fancy on you." Try again, stupid! "I do not know women's clothes, but I think you would look nice in any of those."

She has to admit that the way Simon words things is frankly charming. Jessa is unable to suppress a wide grin as she looks over her shoulder at him, even as she walks forward to pick up a long, embroidered silk scarf hanging from a display rack. "Well, thank you. But even if you're right, I'd rather have a few practical things than one expensive gown that I'll never have an occasion to wear." Nonetheless, there is a faint look of appreciation for the finer things as she gives a small sigh and shrugs her shoulders.

"Perhaps something... elegant... would be practical to have," Simon says, looking at the gowns to try and find the one Jessalyn probably liked best. He picks one of green silk with flowers of some sort embroidered around the neck. The memory of the Puzzle box made Simon believe Jessalyn liked the flowers. "We may come to a time when we will not blend in with simple clothes. Even goodwives on Telgosse keep one feast dress clean and ready to wear." He looks at Jessalyn to gauge her response as he quietly praises her acknowledgement of the need for practical.

"I suppose Jedi attire wouldn't exactly help us blend into the woodwork," Jessalyn remarks as she wanders over to Simon's side and reaches out to touch the fine embroidery on the gown he has chosen. "It is lovely, I admit... I don't know, I feel strange dressing in such finery. Not like there's anyone I'm trying to impress." But her hands betray her words as she runs them beneath the silk, and then turns the hem up to find the price attached unobtrusively to the seam. She whistles softly. "We don't have this kind of money."

Money. Well, Simon did have some left from his days as a New Republic Intelligence agent, but not much. It was probably better saved then spent on frivalities, as well. Still, if it would help him win Jessalyn over... Glancing at the price tag in Jessalyn's hand decides him. The number of digits placed together signified to him that he did not, in fact, have that kind of money.

"Well, there are other shops in this market," Simon says, clearly disappointed. "Something practical would probably be best, anyway. Something we can carry in our hands should we find ourselves on the run."

Smiling, Jessalyn touches Simon's arm as if to console him, then takes him by the hand and guides him out of the shop and down the espanade for several more paces. Another merchant within view offers more standard spacers' wear, well-made but obviously priced to suit those who don't have credits to spare. "Here, this will be fine," she concedes. "I don't want to break our budget on my wardrobe. It's not a priority." Picking up a plain pair of brown trousers, she shakes them out and holds them up, gauging their size, and looking around to see if there is an attendant nearby.

While Jessalyn looks to attract an attendant, Simon pauses a moment to look at his hand. It had been his right that she had taken by chance to lead him to this story. There were a number of significant facets to this, all of which vied for his attention at once, making it difficult to decide which was the most important.

Turning his attention back to the trousers she'd selected, he arranges his thoughts so that he can imagine the pants on Jessalyn. They were, in a way that Simon couldn't quite finger, a better match for Jessalyn than the dress, despite the lack of decoration.

Simon steps over to another rack and picks up a long sleeve, blue shirt that buttoned up the front. Simon couldn't identify the fabric, but it was duller than the silk, and felt sturdier.

It's an amount that Jessalyn won't feel too guilty about Simon having to pay, at least. And she won't have to wear the same thing all the time anymore, at least. "I like it, and that's all that matters," she chuckles, watching the elderly alien gently fold each item and place them in a box which she hands to the red-haired woman. "Thank you," she says to her before turning away, and walking back out onto the esplanade with her new purchases cradles carefully against her chest. "And thank -you-," she adds to Simon with a small smile.

A simple 'your welcome' is the expected response, Simon knows. This seems like a more significant opportunity, though. Pausing for a moment, weighing within his mind the dangers of what he was about to say, Simon finally relents to his instincts. Placing his hands at his side rigidly, he bows to Jessalyn, then says as he straightens, "All that I have is yours, Jessalyn Valios. Jessa," he corrects himself with a slight smile. "You must know by now that I would do nearly anything for you, Jessa."

The young woman swallows hard. Simon's devotion is unexpected and largely unexplainable to her, a complex development which seems bound up in his expectations about her own loyalty as well as, perhaps, a physical attraction. Part of her is aware that Simon's desire is to draw her toward him into the Darkness. But Jessalyn is Luke Skywalker's student, and her own reaction is just the opposite. If Simon thinks that befriending her will ultimately turn her to the Dark Side, it could go the other way, as well. There could be some good in him, some emotional purety that could lead him back to the Light. And right now Jessalyn feels she is his only hope for that. "Nearly anything, hmm?" she finds herself teasing, a flush creeping over her skin. "I'll have to remember that."

The teasing quality in Jessalyn's voice makes Simon think she probably doesn't see that he is serious. He explains, patiently, "I will not do as the _Jedi_ do and touch another's soul or mind, Jessa. This is a terrible sin, not only against the person touched, but the True Source of Life itself. The True Source, the All-Mother from which we are all given our soul, is damaged for every corrupt and wounded soul that is returned to Her at the last embrace."

Having said that, the memory of Simon's own transgression descends upon him. He turns away, his eyes downcast. "I... sinned... against you, Jessa. I thought that your soul being in peril made a difference, but it doesn't, and I should have known better. I brought danger to you, and to the True Source. I would beg your forgiveness, but I know that now is not the time." He turns his head to glance over his shoulder back at Jessalyn and says, "You must still believe what the Jedi have taught you."

Simon's admission clicks the memory into place, and Jessalyn frowns slightly as she steps after him, touching his arm with a free hand while shifting the box so that it's cradled between elbow and thigh. "Simon... I know it hurts you to know this, but I... I -am- a Jedi," she says softly. "You do not have to apologize to me for what you did, I know you think it was wrong. But... I myself have been able to heal emotional wounds by doing just the kind of thing you did. It's true that I would not invade someone's mind for no reason at all, but if some good can come from it, I don't understand how it can be wrong." Hesitating, wondering if it's even possible to appeal to him on this issue, she adds softly, "Don't you feel closer to me because of what happened? If used wisely, and consensually, there's no way to be more intimate with another being. To know them, mind and soul."

The philosophy that permeated the Telgossian society... mastery of the body leads to master of the mind, leading to mastery of the spirit... was the cornerstone of the Selas way of thinking. It was through this belief that the Jedi had been able to convince the first Selas Brothers that they could live a life of honor, and yet remain connected to the True Source as they were. At its heart, it implied that corruption of the body could lead to corruption of the mind, leading to corruption of the soul. It made a man or woman hold themselves accountable to what they did, for it could lead to corruption within, and ultimately to the True Source.

To allow someone else a direct path to your soul... Simon turns and gives Jessalyn a curious look. She had healed through this vileness? Jedi were... intimate... through this? It was preposterous. It was like bleeding someone in order to cure them of a splinter.

"To my knowledge," Simon says, his voice weak, "there have never been a pair of Selas to wed. There are never many at once, and it is rare to find a young male and female Selas at the same time. Yet, even if they did wed... how could they... how can you suggest putting your soul in the hands of another? Perhaps the closeness I feel to you is because of my sin. Or perhaps it is destiny, spun out by the True Source. I could never..." he trails off, unable to find more words. From the expression on his face, it is clear that he is straining to remain patient, but it is a strain.

Jessa is sensitive to the struggle going on in Simon's head. He has not given her an in-depth explanation of the Selas philosophy or abilities, but she has some idea of their beliefs based upon Simon's own strange reactions to what she considers to be an indispensable part of being a Jedi. Returning his look, Jessalyn softens her expression, and continues to walk at a leisurely pace down the esplanade, but draws him closer to her by touching his elbow. "I'm only asking that you consider that what I'm saying is true. I don't want to force my beliefs on you, but I would feel a little better if you didn't think of me as some kind of corrupt, sinful person because of the way I heal hurt souls." Though the topic is gravely serious, there is the sparkle of humor in her eyes, and a sweet twist to her lips that suggests she is sympathetic to their differences.

The strain lessons for Simon as they move along, and he looks at Jessalyn once more, solving an issue he'd had trouble puzzling out. He says, "I think I see that I am approaching this with you from the wrong way. Perhaps I can draw you some sort of comparison, so you can see things from where I stand."

"He pauses again, the continues, "Let us suppose that we went some place that did not have money, and people took what they wanted from each other without trade. Everyone did it, and they did nothing to stop it, because it was how things had always been. Is it no longer wrong to steal?"

"I think I understand where you're coming from," Jessalyn says slowly. "I suppose the moral question I ask myself is whether it is causing more harm than good. Are the people able to obtain all that they need in this system, or are they causing harm by taking what another needs to live? That's when it would be wrong." She stops walking, as they have neared the steep ramp leading to the upper levels of the concourse. "For me, being a Jedi means having compassion for others... determining what should be done in their best interest. I wouldn't use my powers to harm someone else unless it served some greater good."

Simon studies Jessalyn again, then looks ahead of them as they walk on. It's then that he realizes that he's been letting Jessalyn walk all this time carrying the packages as if she were a beast of burden. He reaches take the packages as he says, "Thievery is wrong, even when it is accepted. If it was your new clothes that someone took from you, it would not matter that they thought it was right. It does not matter that you will survive without the clothes. You will have been hurt by the action of another, despite their intentions, good or bad.

"With the soul," he continues without pause, "You are dealing with something far more precious than this." He gestures to the clothing. "It is like a cool, clear pool of water, perfect in its tranquility. Reach your hand into it to clean the waters, and the ripples race across it completely, its perfection spoiled. You would not use your powers to harm someone... but what if you were harming them just them same?"

Amused that despite what could have become a heated argument, Simon has taken the boxes from her in a most chivalrous way, Jessa chuckles softly as she starts to climb the stairs. "I agree with you. Stealing the clothes would be wrong, because it would hurt me. That's pretty much the argument that I was making." She chews on her lower lip for a few moments, not knowing what to do with her hands now and stuffing them down into her pockets. "I just don't know how touching a soul can harm it, Simon. But if I knew that it was causing harm, I wouldn't do it. Just as I won't dare to touch yours, because I know how much it would distress you."

"I suppose it is a matter of faith, then," Simon says, a touch of sadness entering his voice. "It is passed on from parent to child, from the beginning, that the soul is precious, and born from the True Source. That so many precious things are fragile, it is assumed that the soul is easily broken as well. If I am wrong, then there is no harm done to anyone's soul. If I am wrong, then the Jedi... you... are destroying that which is most precious."

Hesitating, Jessalyn manages a smile, then moves out of the way of a horde of short, gibbering creatures barrel their way down the same staircase they are climbing. Once she can speak again and be heard, she says, "I won't deny that it's possible to destroy another's soul using the Force," she concedes. "Someone using the Dark Side could inflict an awful lot of harm if they wanted to. I think your beliefs about the soul are beautiful, Simon. But the soul is strong... not fragile. You did me no harm when you looked at mine." Giving a small shrug, she brushes her hair back from her eyes where it has fallen loose. "We don't have to agree on everything, you know. Come on, it's getting late. We should get back to the ship."

As Simon steps aside for the rush and bustle of the short creatures' passing, he lets his eyes move out, back the way they'd come. He listens to Jessalyn's words as he stretches out with his senses, letting the True Source flow through him and out toward the various shop keepers and customers and passersby. There is no real reason that he can discern for his wanting to feel every aspect of the moment and know the enormity of the weight of all the lives surrounding them. He files it away, however, along with a strange, almost missable feeling of sadness. Some time later, he would realize that it was at that moment that things could have gone so very differently.

"Yes," he says, finally. "We should return to the ship."