Six of One

[Amaros Koine]

The occasional grunt of exertion was the only think that prevented Amaros' actions from seeming effortless. Footlockers and equipment cases were hoisted from the ground with ease, heften under arms the size of small trees and transported from where they'd been left to wherever Amaros felt was more appropriate. Yes, there were droids for this. A binary load lifter stared awkwardly at him from across the landing bay, as if despondent about it's singular purpose having been usurped by the hulking human. Amaros paid it no mind. Perhaps it was arrogance, or hubris, or foolishness, but to his mind if you wanted something done, you did it yourself: not because others couldn't be trusted to do it right, but rather because no man or Mandalorian should feel afraid to get their hands dirty from time to time. He didn't judge those who relied upon droids, or who hired assistants and workers so that tasks could be delegated: that was business, and hierarchy, and galactic civilization needed those to exist. It simply was not his way, nor the way of what remained of his once-proud clan.

With a single grunt, Amaros clamped his arms into place against the edge of a large cargo cannister, and began to shove a slow and noisy rumbling path towards the periphery of an open space within the Elysian Acquisitions hangar that he was slowly beginning to surround with cargo, the history of his aliit playing through his mind as he worked. They had been simple folks once, the Koine Clan: farmers and craftsmen who preferred the rural frontier of Concord Dawn to the bustle and bureaucracy of of Manda'yaim herself. That affinity for a simpler life was merely a preference however: the Koine were warriors, revered for their dedication, respected for their loyalty, and reviled by anyone foolish enough to make themselves an enemy. It was said that if a Mand'alor called, the Koine would be among the first to answer; and if there were ever no Koine left, they would rise from their very graves to serve in the defense of their homelands.

Despite such a reputation however, the Koine had never been regarded as one of the Great Clans. They remained outsiders, comfortable on their frontiers; and unlike many of the more distinguished clans the Koine also cultivated a reputation for acceptance and integration. According to tradition, being Mandalorian was a way of life rather than a result of birth, but the greater clans often lost sight of that, fixated on descent and bloodline. the Koine did not care who you were, or where you were from. They did not care under which star your soul had been born: a soul could learn to be Mandalorian and earn the immortality that went with that, as long as it was dedicated to the right path. More so than any other, the Koine welcomed offlanders and outsiders, and in doing so the other clans balked at their values, calling them a clan of strays. Loyal, yes; formidable, yes; but the same could be said for a pack of wild dogs.

These days though, all that reputation and legacy had become little more than footnote trivia. Wars, and schisms, and occupations had sundered the Mandalorian people, and now they cobbled together what traditions they could, mesh taped crudely together with the Death Watch, bounty hunters, the New Mandalorians, and more; a chimera of contradictory values stumbling it's way towards relevance. The mere recognition of the Koine name earned the aliit a place on the High Council of Te Na'mirci Mand'alor, seated beside Awaud, Ordo, Goza, and more: clans that in the past Koine had been seen as so much less than. Amaros was glad he did not have to sit among them himself; glad that Mandalorian tradition allowed him to leave Mace Riko as a proxy in his place. Amaros was willing, happy, proud for his clan to serve Mandalore; but Amaros Koine trapped in a room with squabbling aristocrats and bureaucrats was a situation that very few of those involved would survive unscathed.

The last cargo container offered considerable protest, creaking and shrieking as Amaros shoved it across the deck plates towards the wall of his crudely constructed crucible. A grin split across his lips as his muscles began to burn and shudder from the exertion, glad of the opportunity for a few brief moments of an honest day's work. You could take the Koine out of the farm land, but you could never take the farmer out of a Koine.

Amaros clapped his hands against each other, brushing invisible dust from the palms of his fingerless gauntlets. He turned, surveying the ovoid space he had constructed from the assorted cargo and ordnance that Elysian had simply left heaped in the middle of the hangar. It was hardly the Braving Grounds of Concord Dawn, but it would do in a pinch.

His eyes strayed beyond the perimeter, settling on the open gangway of the Crimson Tide and the figure that appeared, peering at him from beneath the fuselage. "Oh good," he called, his grin broadening, voice swelling effortlessly to fill the cavernous hangar. "You're awake."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Ain't that bloody early," Sadie went and half mumbled in reply. No doubt The big guy would have heard her and truth be told, she didn't nearly mean it in the sheepish way it was gone and said.

She weren't the type to get all defensive 'bout her sleeping - or not, as the case was more often than not it seemed - habits. Not to the folks that knew her, at least. Well... kinda knew her. Sadie weren't even really sure she knew herself nowadays. Yeah she was still well, her, that didn't change a lick, but was all that new info still settling into place that could cause an upset in her head. Too much like silt that was easily stirred up and disrupted than anything that'd gone and solidified itself into her foundation. It'd happen eventually, just like all sorts of things, all that was needed was a good hunk of time.

Her expression went and changed, not quite an eyebrow raising sort of deal, but enough to get the point across without really looking like she was trying too hard. The cargo was given the same look before she looked back to Amaros.

"Looks like y've been keepin' y'self busy." Sadie began making her way down into the hangar proper, kinda regretting giving up her height advantage as she joined the Mando on the floor. "Y' need me f' somethin'?

[Amaros Koine]

"Depends who you ask."

Amaros let the enigmatic answer float in the air for a moment, settling one last container into place mostly as an excuse to get close enough to one of the larger cargo crates to lean himself up against it without it seeming like he'd gone out of his way to do so. His arms settled into place across his chest, not quite folded in a conventional sense, but as close an approximation as his armoured torso and bracered wrists would allow. A long sigh escaped him, dragging in it's wake a string of casually blunt words.

"I'm gonna level with you, Sid. That uncle of yours is one paranoid son of a bitch."

Amaros faltered for a moment, head rocking slightly as he silently conceded the unfair harshness of his words.

"And I sorta get it. He respects the hell out of you, and he's ten different kinds of proud of who you are and what you're capable of; but he only just got you in his life, and deep down he's scared that one day you'll sail off with your boy Montegue on some bounty job, and that'll be the last he ever sees of you. That's how love and family works, right? A whole load of affection, and a disproportionate amount of worrying."

Despite the harsh and dismissive tone of Amaros' words, there was a thread of sincerity that ran through them, as if he entirely believed and endorsed that definition. It was certainly true for his own family: his affection for his sister, his son, and the assorted adoptees that Clan Koine had gathered under his leadership brought him endless worry and concern, and that was exactly the burden he was supposed to be shouldering as patriarch of his particular family, and it was easy to see Atton Kira as his counterpart in that regard. Certainly, Kira was the one who meddled and irritated his family members the way any self-respecting patriarch was supposed to.

"He means well, but you know your uncle. He's a meddlesome ass, and he'll never admit to anything if he thinks he can fix it behind the scenes without anyone noticing. He found me last night, and offered me a stack of credits to teach you how to not die."

Perhaps that was a statement that deserved a little sugarcoating, but Amaros was a farmer and a fighter, not some diplomat. He wasn't heartless, and wouldn't blindly beat someone around the head with words that he knew would cause distress - if nothing else, harming someone with words was the act of a coward, as far as he was concerned - but unlike many of the others who comprised the social circle that surrounded her, Amaros felt no need to handle Sadie as if she were some delicate, fragile flower. The kid had more resolve and resilience than some gave her credit for, and as far as Amaros was concerned, that earned her the respect of being spoken to like a Mando.

"Obviously I told him to shove his credits up his ass, because Sadie K'Vesh is a street kid from Nar Shaddaa, and anyone who thinks she can't handle herself is an idiot of astronomical proportions. That said, the kind of business you and your man get up to isn't exactly your standard gangland business, and I happen to know a thing or two about a thing or two. I know your pops has been teaching you a thing or two about Jedi hocus pocus and all that good stuff, but if you want to learn how to fight like the folks who've been kicking the Jedi's collective asses for millennia -"

Ammo's face broke into a grin, arms spreading in a combination of a shrug and a gesture of invitation.

"- feel free to step into the circle. Well, circle-ish."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

At first Sadie could only let out a bit of a laugh. Mostly it was on account that she was making a mental note to see if she couldn't find the video footage of Amaros telling her uncle to go frak himself; had to be out there captured by the Underworld, though Atton did have a way of avoiding her damn cameras since he knew damn well where they all were. Audio might be enough...

Though that weren't for the here and now. Not with the other things that the big guy was saying. She liked that he didn't go and think of her as damaged goods, not on account of not knowing her situation or nothing, neither - Amaros had been the one who took her to the doc on Cloud City, after all. Not that everyone treated her like she was all fragile or nothing, not so much nowadays at least, but it was always there for some of 'em. Even if they didn't go and show it all the gorram time.

The other bit of her laugh was on what the Mando was proposing. And right here and now? That weren't something Sadie had expected from the guy but hey, why not? She'd had her morning caff and a somewhat suitable breakfast courtesy of Vittore. Wasn't just that she was keen on making use of what folks offered, neither. There was wisdom in it too. Bounty hunting weren't the safest job ever and every little bit she could pick up - aside from a huge arse blaster - that helped her out? Yeah, that was worth taking the time for.

"That a challenge there, big guy?" Sadie drawled out through a half smirk as she approached him. "Yeah, okay. Lemme see what'cha got."

[Amaros Koine]

The smirk was echoed by a grin that Amaros struggled against, the expression morphing into an appreciative nod. K'Vesh was not someone he expected to back down from a challenge, but the gung-ho attitude was more than he'd hoped for; more than he might have expected from the young woman he'd literally carried unconscious from this bay to the med center after her first arrival from Nar Shaddaa. That she was tougher than some gave her credit for was readily apparent to anyone with working eyes and a shred of common sense; but tougher than even Amaros had suspected? Perhaps so. Mandalorians gained strength from their Clans, after all: perhaps long overdue family reunions had the same effect on Jedi as well.

Amaros shifted slightly, casually, arms falling to his sides as he shifted his weight fully onto his feat. He flexed his shoulders, cracked his neck, a few idle steps towards the inner ovoid of the improvised arena. He came to a halt, though not a complete one; his body still moved and shifted, small and subtle adjustments in his idle stance, not the rigid formality of a soldier at station or a Jedi preparing themselves for a duel. "Lets start with some basics," he offered, watching the way that K'Vesh studied him. He quietly wondered just how far her education with Aamoran had come; just how much of a Jedi she potentially was. "Lesson One."

Suddenly, Koine's arm surged forward, an energised chord of glowing amber lashing out across the few arm lengths between them to coil around K'Vesh's ankle. His arm snapped back, the grappling line tightening against her leg, wrenching the limb out from beneath her. A thrust from his other arm came in for the follow through, a concussion pulse bursting from his repulsor gauntlet, enough of an impulse to compromise Sadie's balance and send her toppling to the unpadded deck plates.

"Don't get cocky," he quipped, as with another shift of his arm the whip retracted, snaking it's way back into the housing on his vambrace.

His arms shifted to the small of his back, and Amaros began to pace casually back and forth, grin full force as he waited for Sadie to recover.

"Lesson Two is learning how to get up off your ass. We may end up repeating that one quite a few times."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

A'right, fair enough. She'd done gone and asked for it and the big guy went and delivered full force. Hurt like a son of a kath and no doubt her hip or leg or somewhere all unexpected was gonna be sporting a might nasty bruise on the 'morrow, but still fair was fair and Sadie wasn't gonna go and complain 'bout it.

"Not too many times, yeah? Would like t' actually be able t' get outta bed tomorrow," Sadie retorted, verging on another one of them small laughs.

The half smile returned on her face after the no doubt whole host of stupid expressions she'd probably gone and made as her foot had been tugged out under her. Least she hadn't tried to brace her fall with her arm or something rightly stupid or this exercise would have ended a whole heap ton quicker than Sadie was realizing she'd want it to. Getting back to her feet was the easy bit, trying to predict what was gonna come next on the other hand...

Part of her knew better than to even try, since it weren't quite the point she was guessing. Not yet anyhow. And sure, she could have tried to go all head melody and suss it out that way but that kinda felt like cheating just now too. Basics and all that dren. Maybe Lesson 3 was gonna start pulling that all in.

Was something refreshing about this though. Sure it'd been a damn spell and a half since she'd done and had to go and pick a proper fist fight with anyone, but there was something kinda liberating 'bout it too. Maybe it was getting some tension out by doing something physical, maybe because it was just different. Either way, Sadie couldn't help but go and echo that whole grinning thing that Amaros was doing.

"So, Lesson 3, then?"

[Amaros Koine]

A deep chuckle escaped from Ammo's throat. He had to hand it to her: Sadie had really committed to the getting knocked down and then back up again vibe that seemed to define her life of late, and it was impressive to see it in action against the small things as well as the big. Her world had an apparent knack of falling apart around her and restructuring itself into something new, and a person could be forgiven for becoming callous or cold in the wake of a thing like that. Not Sadie K'Vesh though. She was too tough for that.

Amaros shifted his gaze to the security sensor tucked away in the far corner of the hangar. Told you as much, jackass, he conveyed to the inevitably watching uncle, communicating entirely in a subtle motion of his eyebrows.

For a fleeting moment, Amaros contemplated the notion that Atton might have intended this all along. Push the right buttons, get the desired result. Amaros certainly wasn't under the delusion that he was a hard man to predict, but the way he saw it, that was just a side effect of being someone who always did what seemed right, better judgement and outside influences be damned. If Atton wanted this outcome, then good. Everyone was happy. Besides, it was about time Amaros put the kid through her paces, and figured out the kind of person that was underneath those scars.

"Lesson Three is an old one, but a good one," he replied, moving slowly around the ovoid to give Sadie a little space and recovery time without feeling immediately threatened. "Know your adversary. Know your arena."

He gestured around him briefly, then patted himself on the chest. "If you were here because of a bounty on my head, what would you look for? Where would you start if you wanted to take me down?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Sadie had gone and caught that li'l minute glance that Amaros had given towards the sensor, towards a visual feed she knew was feeding into a large system. She'd watched it herself from time to time, after all. If nothing else to go and reassure herself that her home hadn't gone and up and vanished on her from time to time. Most of the time was just to see a familiar sight among all the random faces and objects that all the little data feeds throughout Cloud City registered to her day in and day out when she had a mind to watch 'em. Sadie weren't dumb though to think she was the only one keeping tabs, though. Atton no doubt made use of it every gorram time she went off and breathed a sigh of relief every time the Tide came on back and she made an appearance without limping or bleeding down the gangplank. If he was watching now? Good. If somehow her mum or pa got footage of it, good. Even if it found its day back to Vitt's eyeballs - Good. 'Bout time everyone saw her elsewise.

Was the question posed that brought her attention back to reality though, rather than lurking in the dark spaces it found itself betwixt whenever she was here. She didn't bother given no cursory glance to their wherabouts or what the big guy was visually about. Sadie knew the answer right off.

"Honest?" There were a bit of a cocky arse smile she couldn't keep fully in check there, aw well, nothing to help for it. "Wouldn't start here an' now. If y' were th' target I'd make all kindsa efforts on knowin' everythin' there was t' know b'fore we e'er stepped face t' face. History, bank account balance, what y' ate for brekkie th' day prior? Ain't no tidbit too small I wouldn't go an' set t' gettin' m' hands on."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Guessin' that ain't th' answer y're lookin' for, though? See, that's th' problem. I don't go after targets on m' onsies. Stuff y' can't see, that's my realm. The sort of dren 'm guessin' y're askin' 'bout? That's Vitt's."

Weren't a full answer though, not explaining how she'd made do all these years. "That's th' thing of it, though? Never looked since y' ain't an alarm coaxin' sort of folk for me. Folks that used t' mess with me on Nar Shaadaa back when I was truly lonesome like? Weren't no different. Not really. Just had t' pay attention more. Keep m' surroundin's an' th' like in check. Someone's followin' me? Great. Peachy. Give 'em th' slip an' start trackin' 'em in turn. Learn what I could 'bout 'em. Weren't a body I didn't deal with after a time that I didn't know their ins 'n outs like 'm own ones."

Another pause, another small shrug. "An' that was b'fore I got m' hands on a proper data padd an' went an' had access t' the 'net."

Felt foolish telling folks this sort of thing. Long damn winded answer, really. "But yeah, that's just it. I don't go in blind if I can go an' help it. Wouldn't find myself in this right sorta situation if y' were an' actual threat like. Never have an' damn right I ain't gonna go an' muck that up. Closest I got was when there weren't no info on..."

Sadie stopped talking as she felt them memories creep up all uncomfortable like. Giant mean ass lizard folk from clear across the verse. Dren they were capable of... Yeah, best not to let her head go back and wander to then.

"Well, let's just say no one had info then. So weren't nothin' to find."

[Amaros Koine]

Amaros saw the discomfort beginning to form in Sadie's posture and averted eyes. Kriff that noise.

"Well that's a whole lot of just gorram stupid," he distracted, offering the words with his signature bluntness, "Not what you said," he clarified, "That was great. Problem is how you said it."

The noise that escaped him seemed like a sigh, but it wasn't quite. It was long and thoughtful, deep and drawn out, the kind of noise where you might have expected him to run a hand through his beard had they not already been firmly crossed. He frowned at Sadie, disapproving intensely of all this self-deprecation crap. Call it arrogance if you like, but a lack of confidence was not something that a proper Mandalorian suffered from, and Amaros found it confusing, bemusing, and distasteful whenever he came accross it.

"You're sayin' a lot of smart things, but you're wrapping it up like it somehow isn't good enough, or it isn't the right kind of answer. Lesson Four: drop the bullshit."

The tone of Ammo's voice was stern, but didn't quite make it as far as angry or judgemental. Maybe it was the wrong tactic to take. Maybe Sadie K'Vesh really was as fragile as her family seemed to think; but even if she was, what was the point of treating her differently? If countless thousands of Clone Troopers could grasp this kind of an education while only a fraction of her age, then she'd have to suck it up and adapt if she wanted to get anything out of this. Either she'd learn, or she wouldn't: right now, the succcess or failure rested entirely on her.

"Lets translate what you just said, but with all the self-doubt and false modesty stripped out. You said that you study your enemy, that you learn all you can, and that you never go in unprepared. Good. Newsflash, kid: that's called being a hunter, as opposed to a killer or a thug. Lesson Five: hunt smart. Good job, you have that one aced already."

He let his expression ease ever so slightly, not offering a smile, but letting the harshness around his eyes soften a little, mixing in a subtle knowing undercurrent that was vaguely in the ballpark of I told you so.

"Lesson Six we'll circle back to, but Lesson Seven you've nailed as well: don't fight alone. A lot of cultures out there in the verse put a whole lot of weight on personal glory, but on Mandalore it's never about that - or at least, it isn't meant to be. For my people, honour and glory comes from unity, from being part of something, from fighting together for our clan, family, and people. Our ultimate objective, our afterlife, is to be united together in the Mandalorian oversoul: a shared existance where individuality means nothing." A soft chuckle escaped at the irony of it, historical context considered. "I guess it's our version of the whole becoming one with the Force thing that the Jedi bang on about."

His stance shifted, hands slipping to grip hold of his utility belt as he wound himself back from a storytelling mindset into a training one.

"Lesson Six, though. That one is important. Five was hunt smart; Six is fight smart. This is where you're screwing up. Not fighting on your onesies, that's plenty smart. If backup is there, you'd be an idiot not to make use of it. That's a quick road to a glorious death, instead of a glorious life. This whole that's Vitt's realm business, though? That'll get you killed just as quick. What happens when he's not there? What are you gonna do when something has you cornered, ask it politely to wait for Montegue to show up, since taking shit down isn't quite your forté?"

He shook his head. This time, the sigh sounded much more like an actual sigh.

"I know a thing or two about Montegue and his old man. Sure, Vittore always had more of a flair for the killing, and his brother always had more of a flair for the smarts, but neither of them was a one trick ronto. Before you showed up, do you think Montegue used to skip Lesson Three just because it wasn't his thing? Of course not. Vittore's capable of that stuff too, it's just that you came along and you're better. Same goes for the reverse: just because you have your man around doesn't mean you shouldn't expect yourself to be capable of getting the job done without him."

His brow furrowed again, carrying something almost like a hint of sadness this time.

"We missed something important. Something fundemental. Lesson Zero: know yourself. Before you even think about trying to take down someone or something else, you gotta know what's there in your arsenal, yourself included. You've gotta know your limits, your value, your capabilities, your potential - the real ones, not the Negative Nuna pessimist version that you've got stuck in your brain. You've gotta know what and when you can, just as much as can't, and you need to be honest with yourself about it. Overconfidence can get you killed, sure enough, but underconfidence has just the same danger. Picking flight over fight because you don't think you're good enough can be the difference between just barely killing the beast, and letting the beast chase you down and slaughter you because that's what it's kriffin' evolved for."

He paused for a moment, allowing some of that to hopefully start sinking in.

"So, back to where we started. Forget the research, and the studying, and the leftover bantha steak I tossed in a sandwich yesterday morning. How would you take me down? How can you? What's a girl like you got going for her that gives you an edge against a guy like me?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

More good points made and Sadie was downright sure it wouldn't be the last of 'em to leave ol' Amaros before the day was out. He was right, she weren't some helpless whelp that only was good behind a screen. More comfortable, maybe, but she was capable of other stuff for sure.

Sadie frowned a bit, not in any sort of unpleasant way, but in that way she always did when her head went to going and right proper thinking. She took a good long gander at the tech on the big guys' wrists and then a whole once over of him in total.

"Well, 'm smaller than y'. Ain't gonna be able t' hold m' own in a outright fist fight an' while I ain't no stranger t' blasters, guessin' y' got me beat there 'bouts too. But like I said, 'm smaller. Guess I could go an' set up a proper ambush an' make with an' exit plan that'd include fittin' in spaces y' couldn't. Hit an' run sorta deal. Probably would hearken back t' days when I was stealin' stuff from folks."

Was rough, more thinking out loud than really putting pieces together.

"And I'm pretty safe in guessin' that I know th' layout an' all the good hidin' nooks an' such in Cloud City more than y'. I got eyes everywhere too so findin' an' lurin' y' somewhere more outfitted t' my needs wouldn't go an' be downright impossible..."

That thoughtful little frown tugged a bit as her head came to a conclusion she weren't sure on admitting.

"After that, though? Gotta admit, ain't sure how I'd go 'bouts takin' y' down. Only thinkin' so much as maybe a stun 'grade an' a whole heap of blaster fire but 'm guessin' y' got defenses on that sorta dren an' y' don't seem like the type t' go an' get caught all off guard."

[Amaros Koine]

Amaros' mouth shifted itself in an approximation of a shrug, his shoulders too disinterested to get involved.

"Solid points," he conceded; and they were, hypothetically. Amaros wasn't entirely convinced on the assertion that Sadie knew her way around Cloud City better than he did; but that was a debate you could argue either way. Her time on the streets meant that she knew what she was looking for in terms of ambush locations, and Port Town was vaguely similar to Nar Shaddaa, perhaps enough to give her a home field advantage; but Amaros had been here longer, and he didn't exactly wander around all oblivious of his surroundings - a couple of decades living on an adopted world under an assumed name made a man pretty good at looking over his shoulder, though apparently not quite good enough to keep himelf off Atton Kira's radar. That, among other things, was something he and Sadie shared in common.

Her answer was flawed though, limited. Not in a way that reflected negatively on Sadie's intelligence, but rather on her die-hard old habits, and the fact that she hadn't fully embraced her new surroundings. She couldn't be blamed for that. A lifetime of self-reliance made solitary thinking second nature, and that was not an easy mindset to rewrite, no matter how adaptable you otherwise were.

"But you already forgot Zero and Seven."

Amaros turned, moving slowly around the edge of the arena; steady enough to not seem like an overt threat, but carefully angled to avoid presenting Sadie with too tempting a target. He made his way towards something that didn't belong: a long duffel, stained, faded, and frayed, marked with the faint remnants of an emblem that resembled that of Naboo's Royal Security Forces. The bag was opened, two wooden training weapons dislodged from the contents.

"Yeah, like you said, you could set up an ambush. You could try to take me down with surprise and overwhelming force. Or, you could remember who you work for, and with. You could remember what your father is. What you are."

He gestured to the security sensor that both had not-so-subtly taken note of earlier.

"Your uncle, Shadowstar, the Nen kid, or that droid that follows you around half the time; one of them is going to be at the other end of that vid feed. With that Jedi mojo of yours, you can let your dad know you're in trouble with a mere thought. Montegue, and all the resources the Exchange has at it's disposal, are just a comm call away. You could catch me in a crossfire. You could herd me into a trap. You could lure me into an isolated corridor, seal the hatches, and pump it full of noxious gas. Hell, you could hack the security network, slap a high priority warrant on my face, and leave the Wing Guard or the Imperial garrison to deal with me. Point is, if you know what my strengths are, and think you're outmatched, then don't give me a chance to make use of them. Know yourself, fight smart, and never alone; and Lesson Eight: always play to your strengths."

He turned back towards Sadie fully, waiting a moment to secure her attention and readiness before tossing the training blade in her direction.

"But okay, you won't always be on Cloud City, and those allies and resources might not even be there. Maybe you're cornered, and that stick is all you have."

Amaros shifted his grip on his own training weapon, settling into a stance that seemed almost Jedi.

"Every hit you land is worth a beer. Lets find out just how tough Nar Shaddaa made you."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Despite knowing damn well that she was gonna end up with some right and nasty bruises when this was said and done, Sadie found herself once again smiling far too much as she took a few test swings with the glorified stick she'd been lobbed. Yeah, okay, so she didn't know square one about proper using the thing as a weapon aside from what instinct was telling her but it felt good in her hand. Not as comforting as her old pair of blasters that were probably rusting in some forgotten place on Nar Shaddaa, but far better than empty hands. Her fists were awful small, after all.

"So, y' want m' t' go an' make use of th' stuff Inyos' been teachin' me?" Bit of an unnecessary question, Sadie knew the damn answer fell within the Rules that she'd been privy to so far.

Slight shrug of her shoulder said what she felt 'bout that. "Kinda cheatin' in a way, ain't it? That an' your kinds of folks killed m' pop's kind of folks all over th' place back in the day, yeah? Force stuff is all well an' good but it didn't really go an' save 'em in the end, did it?"

She was talking too damned much. And Sadie weren't exactly a fan of letting someone else get first dibs on a hit. Posturing was done and she stepped forward and took a quick swing aimed at hitting the arm, hopefully the hand, where the big guy held his own stick. A satisfying crack rang out in the hangar as Amaros easily deflected the attack.

"Then again, 'm thinkin' they ain't ever had drinks promised t' 'em for winnin'. That makes all th' difference." She took a step back, a little twirl of the stick in her hand for flourish that was all kinds of unnecessary but felt right and then she tried to let the world fade into notes and numbers before she swung again.

[Amaros Koine]

"That depends -" Amaros began to reply, a slight uptick adjusting the tone of his words as he sidestepped into a simple parry, "- on what you consider cheating."

His eyes studied Sadie as she aquainted herself with the weapon. It wasn't fancy by any means, a simple wooden rod with a crude crossguard and fabric-wound grip, intended to imitate the weight and feel of a vibrobade. It was no training saber, but Amaros didn't intend it to be. Until a moment ago, he hadn't been sure whether Aamoran had taught his daughter any lightsaber forms, and now it was certain he hadn't; but 'sabers were flashy, noisy, and not something Sadie was likely to get her hands on often. A vibrosword on the other hand, that was potentially of more practical use, and anything she learned from Amaros today might transfer to a lightsaber later - or to the leg of a bar stool or some other makeshift weapon next time Sadie found herself amid something of a brawl.

"Sure, you could argue that the Force is an unfair advantage -"

Amaros lunged forward with a heavily telegraphed swing, handing Sadie a confidence-boosting parry on a silver platter. Unfortunately for her, it was a deliberate feint, one that left her open for a blast from his vambrace's repulsor. A wave of concussive energy burst forward, sending Sadie staggering backwards, and providing Ammo with a little more room to manoeuvre. He took full advantage of it, returning back to his casual stance and continuing his explanation.

"But that presumes that the Mandalorians and the Jedi were playing some game where fairness and proper conduct were thiings that mattered. On the contrary: the Jedi and Mandalorians were at war, one that the Mandalorians fought to win. If it took six Mandalorians to defeat a single Jedi, we fought them with eight. If they fought with restraint in order to subdue us, we held nothing back and fought to kill. When we were defeated, it was not because of the Jedi's superior prowess: it was because the Jedi came with allies, with armies, overwelming our fleets, eclipsing our armies..."

He trailed off, careful to keep his tone factual, devoid of the hostility that one might find in similar words from a less pragmatic Mandalorian.

"In the end, it was the Republic who handed us our greatest defeat, not the Jedi. They bombarded our homeworlds from orbit, pounding the cities of Manda'yaim into desert sand, and blasting half of Concord Dawn into a debris field. Such tactics were brutal, but brutally effective. Lesson Nine: fight to win."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Lesson Nine was one Sadie was already downright familiar with, history lesson aside. It was kinda just a truth of her life. She didn't like going and picking fights, they weren't fun and weren't something she'd go and seek out for the hell of it. If a fight broke out and she was involved, it was cause something that gone all kinds of wrong and odds were it was her life or some other bastards' and the fact Sadie was still kicking about should have been proof positive she'd learned that damn lesson a long time ago.

Big Guy was right though, she considered the extra bits that Inyos had been teaching her as some sort of unfair advantage which was a silly way of thinking of it, if she was honest. Weren't nothing unfair about having a leg up on someone when things really mattered. Apparently when just acting like it mattered too given Amaros' continued use of those nifty little bracers. Fine then, he wanted to play all cards in, she could do that.

Problem were, Sadie had to try and figure out how. Weren't like she was one of them proper Jedi folks who could launch projectiles at their enemy or make themselves faster than their opponent. She was trying to get there, all right, but was nothing but lies if she went and said she were there now.

So stick with what she knew. If she couldn't go and make her body faster, she could make her more dangerous weapon work at full speed. Not that she was all perfectly used to making that go and happen on demand, neither. But no time like the present, yeah?

Sadie took advantage of the distance and the fact that the Big Guy was seemingly waiting on her to let herself reach back into the ever present melody around her, to tap back into the code and notes that were there simply waiting. And then she let herself just be. She let the stress of the whole situation come full focus, let it seep into her that this weren't a game no more. Fight. Win.

It felt just like when she really focused on slicing, only now she was focusing on the feel of the weapon in her hand, of the stance of the man across from her, and the glaring gap all between them. One which she went and closed right quick with a quick swing of the wooden weapon again.

[Amaros Koine]

In that instant, Amaros was glad for his instincts. It was them, rather than intent, that thrust out his own training stave, a snapped parry against the unexpectedly swift and precise strike that Sadie had just delivered alarmingly close to the side of his head. She had transformed, subtly, and not in the way that Ammo had expected. Usually, this was the point where his students responded with anger, drawing on it as a source of strength that turned their efforts reckless, but brutal. It was a raw and messy approach to combat, but it was a starting place that Amaros knew he could work with, and hone into something effective just as he had done back in his days of training clone troopers for the Galactic Republic.

Sadie's transformation was different, but equally familiar. Instead of anger, she seemed to tap into focus and clarity. Her motions weren't reckless, but precise; and for a fleeting moment, that motion and that grip, that strike without hesitation, replaced the vision of Sadie K'Vesh in his mind with that of a Jedi Knight. There were jokes among the Mandalorians that the Jedi were born with a lightsaber in their hands; perhaps there was some truth to that, metaphorically speaking. There were reasons that only the Jedi and their emotionally alternate counterparts the Sith used lightsabers. There was a symbolism to them, yes, and a complexity in their craft, but the nobles of Tapani had forged weaker approximations for their self-entitled duels, and if the galaxy at large had set their mind to it, Amaros had no doubts that every man, woman, and child could be armed with a laser sword if it seemed in any way practical. It wasn't, because the weapons were so dangerous; so easy to use, but so difficult to master. A mistake during training, and your sparing partner lost a limb; or you did. Another lightsaber aside, you didn't even need all your fingers to count the number of substances and technologies that could hold a lightsaber blade at bay, and yet the Jedi Knights somehow managed to wield them with enough care and restraint to - for the most part - have been considered the non-lethal peacekeepers of the Republic for a thousand years. Their constant rivals the Mandalorians had tried and abandoned efforts to teach their own soldiers the same skills. True, a Jedi had senses and reflexes and capabilities that a mere Mando did not, but perhaps there was more to that. Perhaps there was something deeper, something resonant, something spiritual that made Jedi and their weapons part of some symbiosis that an outsider like Amaros would never be able to understand.

A flicker of sadness sparked in his eyes as those thoughts cascaded through his mind, along with the ones that inevitably followed. Before, he had never much cared about the Jedi and their beliefs. Even when he had first met Cheyenne, he'd never asked, and she'd never told: the Jedi were part of her past, and there was a mutual understanding between the both of them that the past was allowed to remain there. But their son had changed things. As parents, they had tried to shield him from the knowledge of the Jedi and Mandalorian blood mixing in his veins; but he'd gone and discovered both anyway, and neither of them had thought to prepare him for the duality he now wrestled with. It shouldn't have been Sadie K'Vesh here, clashing sticks with him in a hangar bay; it should have been his son, not his wife's brother's friend's -

"Lesson Ten," he said aloud, as much to himself as to Sadie; "Always pay attention to your surroundings."

He jerked his head momentarily in the direction of the Crimson Tide, and as Sadie's stance slackened, attention drawn towards the nothingness that Amaros had indicated, he shoved a hand out palm-forward, shoving Sadie in the solar plexus just hard enough to send her staggering backwards a few paces.

"And Eleven: don't be too quick to believe your opponent; they're probably an asshole."

Ammo buried his thoughts and feelings deep, rolling his shoulders a little looser, and adjusting his grip on the training stave to match Sadie's. "That was good though," he conceded, with just enough warmth and sincerity to ensure it came across as the kind of compliment it was meant as. "Lets see if you can manage to do that again."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Kriffing oldest damn trick in the gorram book and she'd fallen for it. Was infinitely more aggravating than the actual hit had been and the fact that Sadie was a might bit annoyed at the whole Big Guy being leagues better than her thing. She weren't so stuck up or dumbass enough to think it should be otherwise, but it was that all too human emotion to find yourself inwardly griping about it.

Least he weren't mocking her and the little bits of encouragement were actually helping.

"Yeah, well, Still ain't earned a beer, though." Sadie said with one of them half smirk jobs.

Weren't like she was bitching 'bout failing or nothing like that, just admitting she hadn't gone and succeeded yet. Course with that semi smug way the words had taken their leave of her mouth, Sadie may have been making promises of a sort. Not that she'd go and earn the reward, but that she was gonna do her damnedest to try.

So back to it, then. Back to trying her best to not overthink, to let the flow of the verse move through her and let her know when it was time to -

Now.

The speed with which Sadie suddenly skirted forward surprised even her a might twinge. She was used to her head moving right quick like but to find something aside from just her fingers and hands making good use of it was something she weren't quite expecting. Made the strike that followed a little sloppy and easily knocked aside but the one that came right quick after once Sadie got over that initial bout of surprise? Well that was another story entirely, well aimed and almost one of them downright proper counters to your first attempt not going the way you planned.

[Amaros Koine]

Amaros fought to conceal a wince as Sadie's latest strike landed harder than expected. It wasn't pain, or even dismay at being hit: it was more of a visceral cringe, a reaction coded into his Mandalorian genetics as he felt the telltale touch of the Force clinging faintly to her actions. For the most part he was pleased, satisfied that either instinctively or deliberately she was beginning to weave herself into her actions. People could get mighty pretentious when they talked about fighting, becoming one with their movements, letting their weapons be an extension of themselves, and all that sort of bullshit - but they were onto something. It was important to rely on instincts, and reflexes, but in order to do that you had to be honest. You didn't have a hope in hell of winning a fight if you were trying to hide behind being something or someone you weren't.

Lurking beneath the surface though, there was a glimmer of something. Amaros wasn't the sort of Mandalorian who clung hard enough to the traditions of yore that he had a hate on for every Jedi and Jedi-adjacent person that crossed his path, and he didn't see the Jedi as some sort of ancient bogeyman from the old stories: he'd met plenty, and witnessed their mortality often enough to know better. But the whole Force thing, the aspects of it that Mandalorians hadn't figured out how to emulate with tech and contraptions, it unnerved him a little. Not in a bad way, not as if he were frightened - it was more a sense of understanding, and the resignation that such understanding was too far beyond you to even reach. It wasn't like with science, or art critics, where your brain just glazed over in response to words you couldn't be bothered to even try and grasp: it was one of those existential things, like knowing you could never truly understand what it was like to be a different gender, or species - you could try, but your imagination would never truly grasp it. The Force was beyond him, and beyond his ken, and that was a hard thing for anyone to accept.

Outwardly, he managed to muster a smirk to mirror Sadie's. "I guess you're just not thirsty," he challenged, inviting another assault with a gesture.

He didn't remain silent however, exploiting the opportunity to unleash a few verbal blows rather than physical ones. His tone was curious rather than cruel, and his intent was largely the same; but at the same time, nothing challenged a fighter's balance and focus more than a personal question that hit a little too close to home.

"So those scars of yours." He paused for a beat, beginning another slow circle around the perimeter of their arena. "What's the deal?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Th' kriff?" The curse went and left her with far more bite than she'd been expecting.

Wasn't one of them lackadaisical flows that weren't proper by most society standards that Sadie blurted all too darn often to make her folks proud. Was a right and proper curse that was emphasized by a haphazard swing of the weapon in her hand, far too off put to keep going with what was supposed to be a proper lesson.

"Y... Y'know damn well what their deal is." More bite, venom that came from her tone and a bit of a jab that Sadie weren't sure she was actually doing.

Not the physical type, though another swing of the stick came with it. Was a harsh shove, something that her dad had kinda gone and taught her to use but this was instinct driven, a forcing out in the off chance that Amaros was somehow reading her thoughts - even if she knew that sort of thing weren't quite possible. Was one of them visceral things though and not one Sadie was quite ready for.

The marks left by Bog'el weren't something folks went about pointing out. Okay... So... Vitt sometimes made a point of them but not in any harmful way so much as trying to let her know how much he wasn't bothered by them and how they'd always been a part of the Sadie he'd known and-

But Amaros? He knew damn well better. Yeah, he may not have known all the details and the hows and whys but he knew enough. Knew some psychopathic son of a kath had used her as a carving pallet for the frak of it to frak with her head as much as her body. She weren't supposed to live from it all and if she did she was left how she was and that was whole heaps load more broken than she wanted to admit to herself most days. She was trying, dammit. But every so often she'd move in some way that tugged oddly, not quite painfully, at one of them damned marks and it took just about every damn thing she had to hold it together.

"That ain't common knowledge an' there ain't no body gonna bring that up!" She shouted, childishly punctuating the thing with a toss of the stick harmlessly towards the big guy.

Was stupid, and if anything was perfectly highlighting the point that was trying to be made but gorram it, he'd crossed a damn line and she was secretly hoping that Atton and Vitt and the others were watching the exchange so Vitt might shoot the damn guy in the back and knock him out a spell for it. But that weren't happening, least not right quick enough, and so was only her and Amaros.

"Frakkin', LINE, man." She was too upset to put it into words. Hands and the rest of her were shaking might bad and if she were capable of shooting lasers out of her eyes or killing with a look then damn, Amaros would be in a heap off trouble. Didn't help that her vision was blurring.

"Kriff this." Weren't quite defeat in her voice but was awful certain she was done. "An' kriff you."

Weren't hurt either. Was beyond that point, gone to one of them Corellian hells as she headed towards the exit, hand suddenly flicking out to give Amaros a right push through The Force that she weren't close enough to give with a shoulder.

[Amaros Koine]

An outburst wasn't unexpected, and on some level Amaros had perhaps been curious to see how extreme a reaction it would provoke. It was like a wounded tusk cat, perfectly content to lie in a benign stupour until your stroking hand strayed a little too close to its injured leg, and then all hell broke loose. He knew that there was fire in Sadie K'Vesh, but it was another thing to witness it, to experience it first hand - and on the receiving end no less. The Jedi would probably find that worrying, whispers of the dark side and all that business. For a Mandalorian it could be the same: anger had value, but there was a difference between a geothermal vent and an untamed volcano.

Amaros didn't apologise. He didn't need to. Perhaps others were dancing around the subject, appeasing Sadie into a sense of false, hypersensitive security; but she was no child, and he refused to treat her as such. She was scarred, yes. Wounded, yes. But wounds healed, and scars reminded you of what you had survived. Some trauma took time and care, yes; but like a dislocated shoulder, sometimes you just needed to grit your teath and let some asshole pop the joint back in. No one else seemed willing - they cared too much to cause harm, even for her own good - and so Amaros elected himself the designated asshole. He was a Mandalorian; and feelings were only worth indulging until they got in the way of survival. That was probably a Lesson Twelve or Thirteen; but now hardly seemed the time to state it aloud.

Instead, Amaros remained silent, carefully unfastening the straps on his armour, removing them piece by piece - first the bracers, then the breastplate, the jack; and then the undershirt, peeled away from a scarred and muscular torso. The remnants of injuries past that pockmarked Ammo's body weren't as intricate and deliberate as those Sadie bore, but each one told a story. Blaster burns. Bite marks. Knife wounds. Bullet holes. A lifetime of injuries; a lifetime of lessons survived, and learned from.

But it wasn't the scars that mattered. Amaros hesitated before advancing a few steps forward, relying on the surreal nature of his display to hold Sadie's attention until he was ready to speak. He stopped out of range, but close enough for clear vision, dropping to a knee in order to position himself better in Sadie's eyeline. His attention shifted to the crisscross of ink etched into his left pectoral, and his eyes invited Sadie to focus on the same: a simple linear depiction (https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/spnfbfandom/images/5/5a/Aquarianstar.png/revision/latest?cb=20150707225616) of two arrowheads, converging at the heart of a diamond. The placement was important: for while Amaros chose not to wear the symbol of Clan Koine openly on his armour, he always kept it close to his heart.

Sadie K'Vesh on the other hand apparently kept it close to her gut. The glimpses that Amaros had briefly witnessed, after he'd helped to carry her from the Crimson Tide to the infirmary when she'd first arrived hadn't revealed much, but that symbol had been instantly recognisable, the perverse usage burned into his mind. He'd waited this long, out of respect; but some answers needed to be demanded, and he wasn't going to nexu-foot around a subject that he deserved an answer to.

His voice was oddly quiet when he finally brought himself to speak again.

"This symbol belongs to my Clan. My family."

Now that he was here, up close and personal, watching Sadie's reactions and emotions play out across her features, he began to question his choices. Perhaps he'd approached this wrong. He saw steel in Sadie K'Vesh, but even the strongest steel could shatter if struck with enough force in a vulnerable place; and it was unlikely that Sadie had anywhere more vulnerable than this. Yet, he couldn't help having done so; and the proximity revealed to him exactly why that was. At first, he'd simply believed it was curiosity, mixed with a sense of outrage at the symbol of his decimated Clan being used in such a perverse fashion. But it was more than that: it was concern, guilt, dread over the question of why. Why that symbol? Who might have known it, and chosen it?

"The person who did this to you. Was he -"

His voice faltered, cracked, too soft and low to function the way that it was designed to.

"Was he one of us?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

It weren't like her to be downright cruel. Sadie could have been accused of apathy or willful ignorance or a lot of other nasty sort of dren during her lifetime, but cruelty weren't one of them. It was what let her know just how far Amaros had gone and pushed at buttons she wanted let be, though. The fact she considered continuing on her merry and leave him with silence, or to tell him it weren't his problem or his business or some other crap that would avoid an answer; not a real one anyhow. But yeah, she weren't that type. Could have been, she supposed, but that weren't right; the flack she'd catch from others for it paled a bit when she knew how much it'd bug her later to have done it in the first bit. Yeah sure the big guy had gone over a line she didn't want crossed, but she'd kinda left the damn thing unguarded in the first place.

Besides, all wants and childish needs to go and be mean kinda faded with the visual of that tattoo of his anyhow. Caused a bit of a recoil in her, little bit of bile reaching up from the back of her throat and her hand to wander over her matching ugly mark. Her head was kind enough to go and remind her that hers was different, bit more crudely shaped on account of Bog not being a great artist and the fact he'd seen necessary to add an addition right smack in the middle where everything met; true, a sear mark was there now rather than some line where the blade had been snapped off in but it was there anyhow. Marked up by an asshole and sealed off by someone trying to keep her from dying. Frak she hated the whole damn thing.

"No." She answered after one of them loaded silences that stretched for too long. Her voice crept out quieter than Sadie liked too, as if she weren't sure of the denial. "At least, 'm pretty sure he ain't. I don't know much 'bout what Bog was b'fore he was the kriffin asshat I knew, but one of yours? I don't see it."

Her shoulders were still tensed up, still had her feelin' like a coil wound too damn tight or a piece of wire that'd been bent too many times and you were damn sure it was gonna go and snap on the next attempt. Still, she found herself pretty damn rooted to the spot, determined to try and answer Amaros' question as best she could.

"Pretty sure he just liked the symbol or somethin' stupid like that. Gotta right skrag arse thing that looks like an approx of th' Imperial emblem too an' he sure as dren didn't have nothin' t' do with them ever. But yeah, I can see how seein' a represent of y' family carved in on someone could do a number on ya."

A sigh left her as her eyes wandered towards the hangar's ceiling, one of them unspoken why me? thing that Sadie only half felt.

"Why didn't y' just ask Atton?"

The question she asked was genuine, the look that followed though was verging on that meanness again as everything went and narrowed in on the Mandalorian.

"'Cause think it's somethin' I need t' get over or not, you askin' me like that weren't right. This ain't somethin' I'm just gonna wake up an' be okay with, yeah? You can't feed me that dren 'bout scars makin' a person stronger or nothin' like that. They just show you what didn't kill ya. And let me tell y', the bastard had plenty of opportunity to do so. He just went on playing his sufferin' game a bit too long and it caught the hells up with him."

Here came those damn tears again, stinging her eyes and making everything all the damn worse.

"I ain't lucky to be alive. I didn't survive skrag. And these scars don't prove dren except some sick bastard weren't done inflictin' pain on a person well enough t' kill 'em off yet. Damn right shame folks like that even exist, if y' ask me. Worse that I gotta carry a constant reminder that they do."

She weren't done saying her piece, not just yet. "Not that any damn one of ya gets that no matter how much y' think y' do."

[Amaros Koine]

Amaros remained silent, letting the wave of anger and words slam into him. He didn't brace himself against it, didn't try to muscle his way through the impacting tsunami: he listened, trying to let the words and their meanings drench him thoroughly, willing them to sink in and be duly considered. He had provoked this, and for better or worse, this was the reaction: he owed it to himself, and to Sadie, to make the most of this opportunity to understand better. Yes, part of him bristled at the tone, and at the accusation that he didn't understand and was treating her the way everyone else did - blatantly he was not, hence this very confrontation. But words said in anger often had deeper honesty in them, and what Sadie had said to him now was perhaps something that needed to be heard more badly than she realised.

When he finally spoke, his tone was not apologetic; but it wasn't stern either. It walked an oddly calm path, methodical steps and simple statements.

"I didn't ask your uncle, because it isn't his place to answer."

He started in the middle, but it was the question that felt the most like a beginning.

"In the circles we move in, people love their secrets, and their whispers. I don't. If I want to know something about you, I ask you, especially about something like this. And, to me, doing otherwise would be disrespectful."

His brow furrowed, thoughts turning briefly to the way he had parsed his question.

"I asked the way that I asked, because I see how people are around you. No one quite knows what to do or say, so they dance around, or they worry too much, or they try and find ways to convince you that everything is going to magically get easier. I won't. I refuse to. You're not a child to be coddled, you're a gorram badass: and I will treat you as such, until something convinces me that you aren't. I'm sure as hell not going to act as if you are too fragile to cope with a simple question. It's the same thing as before. Respect."

A small sigh escaped, Ammo's shoulders shifting in a slight shrug that his expression tried to emulate. The furrow quickly returned however, and his attention shifted, eyes trying to seek out Sadie's direct attention.

"You're wrong about one thing, though: your scars aren't nothing. Maybe they aren't some badge of honour the way that battle scars are. Maybe they're too painful a reminder to be a source of strength. But you are a survivor. Not because you did anything to fight your way through whatever that assclown did to you, but because you are still here. That shit happened to you, and you endured. Lesser people wouldn't have. Yeah, he kept you alive because he chose to, but look at how much punishment you were able to endure. You're right, scars just show what didn't kill you: but they're also a lesson, in who not to trust, in what you can survive through, and in how fucked up this galaxy can be."

He glanced away, eyes straying to the Crimson Tide, considering the proxy for Sadie's misfit family that was contained within.

"I don't know how they see you. I don't know how you see yourself. What I see though is a tough son of a bitch, who's been through torture without breaking, and has already bounced back enough to walk out here and get half way to kicking my oversised Mandalorian ass."

There was a small smile, though it was fleeting.

"And if you ask me?"

His thumb tapped at the tattoo on his chest.

"I can't speak to anything else this Bog guy carved on you, but this thing belongs. Be proud that's there, because you're worthy of it. You've got beskar in your bones, kid - have enough respect for yourself to realise that."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Wisdom came in all sorts of forms and ways and by the time the big guy was dishing out his own brand, Sadie'd gone and cooled off enough to actually listen. Not to mention have a few breaths to realize that she really probably hadn't actually been all that mad at Amaros at all, not really anyhow. Deep down she'd known he hadn't asked her about the scars to upset her, at least not really upset her; maybe throw her off a bit for the purposes of the exercise but certainly not to cause the miserable feelings that were still working their way through her. Nah, as Ammo explained away and Sadie knew he were speaking the truth she also had to go and face that the real reason she was angry was just her. Her own inability to not be bothered by it all. Reminders and reasons aside, she didn't want to go around being the fragile thing it seemed like the others thought she was. She didn't want people utterly avoiding the subject, but at the same damn time she didn't want them making public announcements 'bout it all either. Was a damn fine line she was expecting people to walk; unfair really.

And really, wasn't Ammo just doing his best to walk that line in his own way? Wasn't that all she could ever really ask of someone? Hell, he respected her enough to not be fake about it, at least. That counted for a whole heap, didn't it? And at the end of the damn day, wasn't he supposed to be challenging her? Wasn't that exactly what he'd done?

Frak sake.

"You do get that secrets an' dren are literally th' family business if not more 'n that?" She finally replied with a half smile of her own that she didn't really feel but attempted anyway.

Against better judgement she tugged up the plaid over-shirt and the black tank underneath up off the marred skin of her right side. Weren't a sight she was unfamiliar with, though that was usually post-shower pre-caf grump times and she always just ended up making a face or wanting to punch the mirror. Right now though? Well, Sadie had to be honest she wasn't damn sure what was going on in her head.

"I'd go an' apologize for him doin' this without y'r permission, but kriff him. He don't get that right."

The general threat of her eyes going and making more of a fool out of her by leaking everywhere was mostly gone, but she still felt a hitch in her throat.

"Y' sure y' feel that way, though? I get that y' ain't really th' type to go an' say somethin' just t' make someone feel better or any of that dren but... Still. If it's one thing I'm startin' t' learn it's the importance of family an' such. Mine don't exactly have any sort of symbol that reflects us or nothin', but yours does."

Sadie shrugged her shoulder, brushing off just enough sensibility to allow for a bit of the banter they'd had before to regroup. "I mean, awesome as I am an' all that..." It faltered with a laugh that said she damn well didn't feel what she said, but why not try, eh?

"I just... it don't feel right now that I know it means somethin' t' someone. Worthy or not, wasn't his t' go an' give, you know?"

[Amaros Koine]

An actual, proper smile formed in response to that.

"That's a common misconception, actually. A clan and a family aren't quite the same thing. A family is blood, whereas a clan is more -"

He trailed off, struggling for how to translate the notion into offworlder terms. It was such a simple premise when you understood it, the feudal clustering of Mandalorian bloodlines united under a shared banner, united by tradition and honour and legacy. Mandalorian was not a race, it was a religion, a lifestyle, a conscious choice. Yet, there were those on Mandalore, the so called New Mandalorians, who couldn't grasp those values. How could he expect them to be understood by someone from worlds away.

"Being Mandalorian is not about birth, it's about belief. It is about the code of conduct that you follow, and the way that you live your life. You do not need to be born a Mandalorian: it is something you become, a choice and an oath that you make. The first Mandalorians were a race of ancient non-humans called the Tuang, but over the millennia, humans, and Rodians, Nautolans, Devaronians, Mirialans - they found a spark of something within themselves, and they committed to the Mandalorian way. Some people are born into it, sure, just as they would be with any other belief system. But a Mandalorian born to it is no different, no better or worse, than one who chooses it for themselves."

Another moment of silence passed, Amaros contemplating just how deep into history Sadie had the patience for him to delve.

"That mentality is why my forebears chose this symbol for our clan. It symbolises coming together, from across the stars, to unite as part of a stronger whole. For generations, the Koines strove to exemplify that. Anyone from anyone is welcome. Looking around at your life, your family, and the strength you're found through forging something together? Yeah, I'm sure I feel that way - and I would be proud, and honoured, to know that the both of us are marked as that same thing."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

To be whole and totally honest with herself and the 'verse at large, Sadie had no clue how to react. It weren't nothing overwhelming or scary or something to make her need a few moments to herself, but it was complicated all the same. Kinda more reassuring than it had any real right to be too. Maybe she was just kinda emotionally drained from it all to have the mental wherewithal to fight back and find those little things that let her twist stuff.

She's kinda wanted to interrupt and correct the man when it came to blood and family. Sadie's notions were quite contrary after all, and she suspected she had a certain grumpy arse droid to thank for the basics but she knew it was a culture thing that Ammo was explaining, not gut instinct that defined words differently than they were probably supposed to be.

It did make sense though, aside from the whole set of ideas and semi religious sounding stuff. Was even admirable in a way. Clashed a whole lot with what she certainly had thought of Mandalorians, though. Of course, she didn't exactly know a whole heap about them aside from the stray curse word in their language and the fact they seemed universally badass.

Still, it did all kinda leave her speechless, which was sorta a newish feeling for someone who tended to overshoot their mouth. So instead she let the side of her shirt drop back into place.

"Well," she started, kinda hesitant like, not wanting to muck this all up. "Gotta say bit unsure how t' feel 'bout that. Kinda honored and baffled, I s'pose that y' ain't just begrudin'ly acceptin' of it; of me. Not sure I can really live up t' all your folks represent, but knowin' what I know now, I guess... Well... Just another one of them reasons t' try an' be better, yeah?"

[Amaros Koine]

"I'm sure your father has some Jedi bullshit on the subject of trying," Amaros countered, with a chuckle.

Quickly the faint note of laughter became a sigh; not out of frustration, but more to purge the sentiment from his lungs as he steered back towards more reassuring words.

"All of that stuff about honour and belief? That's just my way of looking at it. The point is, Mandalorian is a state of mind. And hell, we as a civilization can't even agree on the basics. For the old school True Mandalorians, it's all about tenets and codes of conduct, and being the right kind of warrior. For the True Mandalorians, it's namby-pamby pacifism, law and order, art and architecture. For the Death Watch, it's being a giant bag of dicks. For Clan Saxon, it was more of a kneel down, open wide, and let the Empire stick it wherever they like sort of thing. You get bounty hunters like Clan Fett used to be. You get Rebellion heroes like Clan Wren."

He shrugged it off, halting a ramble of history that could have continued far longer. In truth, Amaros had no idea how many clans there were - possibly too many to count - but he was certain each of them viewed their heritage and their responsibilities in their own unique way.

"Clan Koine is about coming together, not just as individuals, but mindsets, too. Point is, you have nothing to live up to, except yourself. Be true to yourself, embrace who you are. At the end of the day, is there anything else that could ever be expected of us?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Well, I s'pose that d'pends on th' kind a person y' are. Pretty sure there's a whole heap a' folks that could go an' use a right big life adjustment."

Should have been clear by the smirk that colored her voice as well as tugged at her lips that Sadie were just mincing words at that point.

"But 'm guessin' those sort ain't exactly up t' snuff."

Was one of them joking ways to avoid expressing the sort of things that Sadie was feeling. Everything was muddled and stirred about and as far as Sadie was concerned, a bit of booze was downright on the necessary to make sense of it all.

"C'mon big guy, what say we call it a day, head t' th' pub, an' y' can regale me 'bout your people more." Sadie went and offered. "But first, put y're shirt back on, yeah? Don't think we want t' go givin' no lil' ol' ladies a heart attack, yeah?"

[Amaros Koine]

Ammo's brow furrowed for a moment, eyes glancing down to regard the glistening curves of his muscle-bound body. As his gaze returned to Sadie, a single eyebrow arched upwards and then, after a lingering moment of intense eye contact, a single pectoral twitched on its own.

The Mandalorian's expression quickly collapsed into a grin, and then a chuckle. "Fine, kiddo, if you insist," he responded with a theatrical sigh, grabbing his discarded shirt, and beginning the process of redressing himself with relative haste. He paused though, shirt halfway down his abdomen, his vision straying for a moment to regard the Crimson Tide in the distance. A flicker of his smile returned for a fleeting moment. "But only because I don't want to make your man feel inadequate."

In response to the questioning look that Sadie offered in response, Ammo looked past her, gesturing with his sculpted jawline towards the figure slowly emerging from the ship behind them.

"Hey lover-boy!" he added loudly, deliberate efforts made to maximise the potential awkwardness of the moment. A smirk was thrown at Sadie, dispelling any illusions that this was anything but intentional. "Turn around and grab your cred chit. Sadie owes me beers, and she said you'd pay for them."