Oh, I'm sorry--was this yours? (Kyashi and open)

[Kale]

The Coruscant midlevels. Kale didn't know why he'd come back here. Maybe it was to ground himself in the familiar again after a week of training under his new Jedi master, Pierce Tondry. He didn't have much social life at the Order, and the sterile polish of the Temple walls had been starting to give him a headache. So when Tondry told his padawan he had the day off, this was the first place that came to mind.

The day was a pleasant partly cloudy, but you'd never know it down here. The sky was just a luminous gray smear between the stratoscrapers and skybridges. The people who lived in the midlevels didn't bother looking up. Neither did Kale. The penthouses and ritzy offices up above were out of reach. The pits of the city were out of mind. It was a very horizontal existence.

Kale was clad in a tattered brown T-shirt and his favorite pair of beaten, old jeans. His black, knee-length robe, even though it was Temple issue, didn't mark him as a Jedi down here, and he kept the practice saber at his belt well-hidden. He just wanted to be unnoticed again today so he could think some things over.

He passed a group of pre-teens playing streetball with a garbage can for a hoop, then an elderly slithmonger who could barely hold on to his wares as he shoved them at passers-by. Then he came upon a young man standing on the streetcorner--it looked like he was waiting for something. He certainly seemed distracted.

Kale hardly even thought about it. While he walked behind the young man, his hand snaked out, slipped into his pocket, and pulled out a thin pocketbook. Then he kept walking.

[Kyashi]

A hand clamped down on Kales' wrist as he started to walk away. The knuckles on said hand were bloodied and raw, barely scabbed over from the fight in the tea-house. The hands twisted slightly, applying a little too much pressure to the other young mans' arm.

Kyashi looked at the other boy, his eyes staring him down coldly. Dried blood marked his face, a large gash crusted over on his forehead. He twisted Kales' arm harder.
"That's mine."

[Kale]

Kale's face wrenched up as Kyashi seized his arm and bent it back. On reflex, he tried twisting free, but the other kid had a pretty good grip.

"Ow! I don't know what you're--"

His free hand clapped to his own pocket, and he felt the foreign bulk of a small wallet. He hadn't had that before.

He yanked it out and held it in front of Kyashi's face. "There, take it. You look like you need it more than I do, anyway."

[Kyashi]

An opened palm hand promptly smacked Kale in the nose, the other hand still firmly holding his arm. Kyashi scowled.

"Don't insult me. I don't want your pity, thief."

[Kale]

"Hey!"

Kale dropped the wallet on the sidewalk and muscled his arm free of Kyashi's. He stepped back a pace, wrinkling his nose. Kyashi looked to be about his size--maybe even smaller--but Kale didn't want to risk a scuffle if he could avoid it.

"Okay, fine. Look, I never wanted your wallet. It was an accident. So why don't you get over it and get back to whatever it was you were doin'?"

[Kyashi]

He folded his arms over his chest, both boys sizing the other up. With a simple gesture, the wallet lifted off the ground and into his hand. He sighed lightly.

"If you needed money, you could have asked, you know. I know what it's like to have to steal to survive."

[Kale]

Kale's eyebrows rocketed skyward as the wallet floated into Kyashi's grasp.

"Woah! Uh..."

He cleared his throat sheepishly. "Actually, I didn't need it. Which is the funny thing. Just force of habit, I guess."

And speaking of Force, Kale usually had a better sense for whose pocket to pick. Kyashi's wallet wouldn't have been worth the effort.

He glanced back down at the wallet in the other kid's hand. "That's a pretty neat trick," he said. "Where'd you learn it?"

[Kyashi]

Kyashi slipped the wallet back into the pocket of his kimono jacket, an ackward smile on his face.

"My master, Okami-sama taught me to do that...I can't get it to work all the time, but, uh, I had some practice a few days ago."
His left hand went to rub the back of his neck, exposing more vicious looking wounds.

[Kale]

Kale couldn't help wondering how Kyashi had come by those injuries. Of course, the way Kyashi had said "practice" gave him one or two ideas.

"Master... you some kinda Jedi or somethin'?"

[Kyashi]

The smile quickly faded, his arms going down, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. Kyashis' eyes narrowed as he took a small step backwards.

"No...I am not one...of those people."

[Kale]

That surprised Kale. He'd been indifferent to the Jedi when he was on the streets--they were just glorified cops, as far as he'd known--but Kyashi must have had some serious history with them to get so riled.

The pick-pocket spread his hands in apology. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to offend you. I was just curious."

As far as Kale knew, the only other kinds of Force users were Dark Jedi and Sith. And Dark Jedi probably counted as "some kinda Jedi," so...

Kyashi didn't really look the part (not that Kale would have known what to look for in a Sith), but he figured he'd better watch his toes. At any rate, it probably wasn't a good idea to let on that he was a Padawan himself.

"Still, that's a pretty neat trick," he said, clearing his throat. "The name's Kale, by the way."

He kept his hands in his pockets--handshakes weren't common fare among street kids. He ticked his head, leaving the conversational ball in Kyashi's court.

And he started putting a clamp on that voice in his head that was screaming What the frell are you doing this is a darksider for all you know you stupid--

[Kyashi]

"Kyashi."

His smile returned, though just barely. "I wasn't offended..I just have had bad experiences with other Force-users."

He looked the other boy over, subconciously reaching out with the Force to get a better feel for him.

[Kale]

Kale made a note of that. He'd had no experience with Force users, at least, none that he could remember, before the Order took him on. Kyashi, on the other hand, seemed to have some training already. Kale couldn't help wondering if Kyashi was what he'd almost become himself--an isolated Force-user, outcast, looking for a place to put himself in the galaxy.

That was the sentiment on Kale's mind when Kyashi took a peek. Kale dimly felt an ethereal prickling around his ears--the feeling he got when he was being watched. Instinctively, he put his guard back up. Kyashi might have caught a glimpse of what Kale was thinking before encountering a misty void where Kale's Force signature ought to have been, even if he weren't a Jedi.

Kale cleared his throat. "I don't trust 'em much myself," he said. "They think they're better than everyone else... they always seem to have an answer for everything. But they never seem to solve any problems down here." He gave an ironic smirk. What he'd said was a slight exaggeration on some genuine doubts--he hoped Kyashi wasn't quite as astute at catching falsehoods as his new master was. Kale didn't really know what he was doing, but it seemed like a good idea to find out a little more about Kyashi. Maybe he'd find out a little more about himself in the process.

"Oh, uh, sorry about the wallet thing. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. I know there's a shack with pretty good bantha burgers a few streets down. My treat, huh?"

[Kyashi]

"Hmm, I suppose that's true." He didn't see any reason to tell Kale about the incident at the tea-house."Not many Jedi venture down past the mid-levels, and those that do have a "holier-than-thou' attitude."

He felt that familar tingle, the same one he felt off the two Jedi from before. He shook his head, and the feeling was gone. At the mention of food, he perked up.

"Alright. Lead the way."

[Kale]

Traffic on this street was mostly pedestrian. There weren't many landspeeders in this part of Coruscant outside of a couple swoop gangs, so everyone pretty much crossed the avenues wherever they pleased. The flow of the populace seemed more or less random to any untrained observer. Kale had a natural sense for it, which was a real bonus when he needed to disappear into a crowd. Of course, Kyashi was no slouch, either. The pair soon found themselves before the smeary, glass facade of Helgi's Hoagies and Grill on the corner of 1,341st and Ord Mantel Avenue.

Kale tugged the front door open and headed on into the tight, smokey atmosphere. The place was small--there were only six tables in the dining area and a counter with a bar. Behind the bar was a modest kitchen with a sizzling griddle, a French frier, bins of ingredients, a soda fountain, and a row of questionable-looking liquor taps. The smells that drifted over the counter were enough to make your mouth water and your arteries shudder.

Kale had popped in there every now and then when he'd been in the neighborhood. He'd lift a little extra for lunch money if he had the opportunity. Now... well, his cash was still pretty thin given his stipend as a Padawan... but Kyashi looked like he could use some good, greasy cooking right now.

He hopped onto a barstool and grabbed a flimsy menu from a wire holder. There were about a dozen varieties of burgers, everything from bacon and cheese to sejoi mouse bits.

A Sullustan wearing a backwards baseball cap and a well-wiped apron approached to take the two youths' orders.

Kale took another glance at the menu before passing it off to Kyashi. "Uh... cheeseburger and fries, and a root beer."