"Tsabin," he echoes in a cordial tone, not at all in keeping with those watchful eyes. "Ference Valari. I'm afraid the agency couldn't spare anyone more senior, so you get me." He flashes another smile, disarming, self-deprecating, as they reach the exit, and scans the street up and down before stepping aside politely. "But I hope I'll be able to answer any questions you have. --This way."
He keeps pace with her as they go - and he is armed, discreetly enough that she has to know where to look. Anyone else would have to be looking in the first place, and Cassian is reasonably sure no one will. There's no one to see. Just the woman in her sober gown, the young man solicitous of his companion. "How was your flight?"
Three blocks through a small, sluggish business district. With luck, no more than a quarter of an hour in the open. With care, no proof they were ever here.
Ference Valari. She commits the name to memory, knowing it's not his true name and hoping he's as good as she assumes he must be to be chosen for this assignment. Her life is in his hands, along with any hope she has of finding answers.
"Dreadful," she answers easily, the practiced skills of years past finally finding use again as she crafts a tale that will cause no harm if overheard by anyone nearby. "I was in close quarters with two Sullustans who insisted on offering commentary on every minute aspect of the journey. They were not impressed with the pilot's maneuvers or the route our ship took."
Her boots clicked dully on road beneath them as she kept their pace steady and not too hurried — they don't need to draw attention to themselves, but they aren't inviting anyone's interest either.
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He keeps pace with her as they go - and he is armed, discreetly enough that she has to know where to look. Anyone else would have to be looking in the first place, and Cassian is reasonably sure no one will. There's no one to see. Just the woman in her sober gown, the young man solicitous of his companion. "How was your flight?"
Three blocks through a small, sluggish business district. With luck, no more than a quarter of an hour in the open. With care, no proof they were ever here.
Keep going.
no subject
"Dreadful," she answers easily, the practiced skills of years past finally finding use again as she crafts a tale that will cause no harm if overheard by anyone nearby. "I was in close quarters with two Sullustans who insisted on offering commentary on every minute aspect of the journey. They were not impressed with the pilot's maneuvers or the route our ship took."
Her boots clicked dully on road beneath them as she kept their pace steady and not too hurried — they don't need to draw attention to themselves, but they aren't inviting anyone's interest either.