"Tch! You can't even be trusted to make obvious decisions on the basic principle of self-preservation." The spurned Darth Janus chided. "How could anyone possibly trust you with something as important as your own Darth title?" The Umbaran rolled his eyes.
He had plenty of willing acolytes. Ish. If by acolytes one meant paid employees, anyway. He would've had at least one if this poor, deluded, doomed Jedi had seen the reason in his words. But if she wouldn't see reason, she would see sass. An ungodly amount of sass that threatened to tear a new wound in the Force over the planet of Sev Tok. Which was still being violently strip mined, in case anyone was still wondering about that. She was glaring at him quite fiercely . It was all he could do to not burst out laughing on the spot. Maybe if he pressed a bit further, she'd turn red.
"Look at how angry you are already. You'll make a good Sith. You'll be kicking puppies and brutalizing younglings before you can say..."
"Help me, Darth Carach! You're my only hope for becoming a lobotomite." Spark Finn's commlink finished the Umbaran's sentence in her own voice; urged to do so by Janus' doing.
Maybe it was a Force Illusion. Maybe it was Technometry. Maybe, just maybe, it was Maybelline.