Bankor

He had spoken with the Quartermaster the day before, and had met with the pair one their arrival after the crash landing. Yet something was calling to him again, to track down Lelia, and by proxy, Gena. He wanted to make sure that they were getting the supplies, after the theater had been cleared by the actions of the Strike Force. The Peacekeeper had made his way from the city proper back to the Resistance Camp, his arms behind his back as he moved through the area, moving with the poise of an officer.

Finally, making his way to where their ship was parked, Durasay began to look for the pair, and to try and make himself as apparent as possible through the Force.

Lelia was sitting on a box looking over a Datapad and looked u, “Hey… it… is uh, Republic Man… welcome back. What can I do for you?”

"It is. I spoke with the Quartermaster yesterday. Basic medical supplies should begin to flow between the two camps. I couldn't get any kolto or stims liberated, but it's a start." He grinned, tilting his head as he regarded the Zeltron woman. "Dee works, if it's easier to remember, Lelia." Looking about, he pondered things for a moment. "Told you we'd get started fast on pushing the mandos back. Enough trust gets built between the two camps, we might just see you with that new hyperdrive sooner than you think."

“Never doubted you guys for a moment,” she said. “Yeah I saw some stuff come in for Gena, she will be excited… or tired, but overall it’s a good thing.”

“Lots of people need the aid, so you have our thanks Republic Man.”

He waved off the thanks. "I didn't do it for the thanks." Durasay's smile softened, as he shifted his weight onto one leg. Regarding Lelia for a moment, silent as the wind blew slightly. His head turned slightly, looking away for just a moment. "The Force is strong here. You can feel it, no?"

Lelia didn’t answer at first, not sure what the angle was. She then said, “I am not sure what that means, it’s just a thing… strong or weak… it’s just a thing.”

“Never paid it much attention really.”

So. It's true...

Durasay didn't say anything about the dodge. Or, rather, the dismissive nature of her comment. In response, his face showed a slight smirk, a hint of self-satisfaction that his instincts had been right, before the look turned concerned, quizzical. "Just a thing?" He asked, without judgement. "It's everything. It's nothing. It's the space in between all things." His words were soft spoken, as if sharing some profound secret. "May I ask why you've never paid it much attention?"

“Because it’s nothing special, at least to me… it is for everyone else but for me it’s like breathing or doing my hair. I am not into all that mumbo jumbo crap, I am not here for profound whatevers,” she said unable to find a word.

“Just here to make money, and help my friends. So yeah, that takes priority. Why do you care so much?”

"That's why it's special. Because it comes so naturally. Without thinking, you can feel it flow through you, it's always there, lending you aid, doing what you need when you need it to, if you have to." His eyes focused on hers. "I care because that sounds like me a few years ago. I was a smuggler, a soldier, who didn't really think about what the Force was, or how I could use it, until I met someone who pointed it out."

His arms folded across his chest. "There's nothing wrong with making money, or helping your friends. But don't you think that, that feeling, could be aiding you in that? To show you new ways in which you could be helping them? I'm not talking about picking up a lightsaber, and going on some damn foolish idealistic crusade. That's how you end up like me." He laughed for a moment, and then grew more serious. "Minus the lightsaber. But I mean, using everything at your disposal to reach your goals, to make things better for your friends?"

“That sounds a little too responsible… and lots of hard work… yadda yadda yadda,” she saves waving it off.

“I got a good thing going here,” she waved to the hovel she called a home and her ship. “Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s like special… but I just, I don’t know. This is way too heavy a conversation.”

She stood and walked over to a crate opened it and pulled a bottle of liquor, “I just don’t think about it. Maybe I should, but I do a lot of things I shouldn’t and rarely anything I should.”

“That’s why I have Gena, she’s the sensible one.”

"Anything worth doing is hard work. Rewarding work, too." He didn't approach as she grabbed the bottle. "I can see you have a good thing going. A ship, a smugglers life. It is a good thing, a good way to be. I know I miss that life sometimes." The Pantoran shrugged, before appreciating the ship again. "I'm not going to push the conversation. I've seen how that turns out, I've been on the end of that conversation when I wasn't ready for it." A smirk.

"It is a responsibility, sometimes, but it will also always bring you were you need to be, when you need to be there. The Force, it guides your actions, but it can also obey your commands. And it isn't a dogma or a creed that guides that." He closed his eyes, his lips curling into a smile. "It's everything. And this planet, it feels so vibrant here, it can almost wash you away." Opening his eyes again, Durasay seemed to focus his attention on Lelia.

"Something to keep in mind, Lelia. You don't even have to ask anyone else about it, you can look inside of you for the answers." Then a pause, and a shift in is stance.

"How long have you and Gena been working together? It's a good feeling... when your crew becomes your family."

“She’s a pain in my arse, I wouldn’t call her family but we have been a team for a few months now. Her university got shut down when the Mandos came, she needed a place to be and it turned out she has some skills that I can make use of,” she responded before taking a drink.

“Been a team ever since, she watches my back, I watch hers… sometimes. I think she does enough for the both of us really.”

"Hmm." It was a thoughtful noise, as he listened to her describing the relationship. "I could tell that from our first meeting. She seems rather protective of you." His tone was even, not wanting to come across as crude or crass. "That's how it always starts. People work together because they have skills the other can use." A step to the left, he laughed, thinking about his own origin. "Next thing you know, you're helping them find their old flame, or letting each other drag you into a fight you didn't start, but you damn well weren't going to let them down in it."

He rubbed the back of his head, fingers through his hair, as he shook his head. "Do you see her going back to Uni when this is all over?"

“I mean I hope so, then she can be a real doctor. But who knows this war has changed all of us, she may already be in too deep,” Lelia mused and then took another drink.

“Be nice for one of us to be respectable.”

"Respectability isn't all that great." Durasay shrugged, shaking his head. "But it's good you will well for your friend."

He looked lost in thought for a moment, then nodded. "After this is all done, maybe I could help get her a position as a doctor somewhere."

“Better ask her first, she’s not the charity type,” she replied thoughtfully.

"Who said anything about charity?" He raised an eyebrow. "It would be easier to pay her in a position than all the credits you both are owed." His grin was wicked, before he laughed. "I'm kidding. Of course I'll ask her."

She furrowed her brow and just laughed along not sure if she followed. Lelia frowned and said, “So you just going around letting the mystical guide your actions? Not sure if I should think you’re a kook or some wise old man.”

"I'm not old." His tone was slightly insulted, but blunted by his smile. The Pantoran shrugged, then looked about. "I think of it that it brings me to opportunities, but when it is time, it's up to me to act on them, to be the one that takes control."

Words that he could hear in his mind with a soft, feminine timbre, a curl of lips and a slight movement of a lekku. He only echoed the sentiment.

"So it is both a guide and an extension of my will."

“You sound old, Republic Man,” she said in reply. “Well that is terribly opaque, not sure I would trust it to guide me anywhere. I prefer to go with what I can see or feel.”

“Why not just become a Jedi or something?”

"Then start small. Do you feel it when you're flying? Or when you're speaking with someone. Small little ripples in the energy of the Universe around you." He ignored the comment about his age again.

"The Jedi don't have a monopoly on what it means to study the Force. I go my own path. While there are things I have learned from individual Jedi, the idea of being a monk isn't for me."

“I can understand that,” she responded. “I need to think about all this and I hate thinking about things, but I tell you what if I got questions on the magic wizard things you will be near the top of the list. You know for a non-Jedi opinion.”

"I'm humbled to be considered for a non-Jedi opinion." His smile softened, as his features showed the deference given to that statement. Durasay considered her statement, then tilted his head. "Why do you not enjoy thinking about things?"

“I hate answering questions that make me think and you ask a question about it…” she said dryly.

"Fair enough. Bad habits of my work now." He shrugged, and then let out his breath. "And since I have a bad habit of continuing to ask questions, I'll drop them. For now." Looking away from the Zeltron, he paused.

"I'll see you around, Lelia. And when you decide you have thought on things," there was a flash of a politicians charm, "I'll be around."