Character
Location: Galactic City, Coruscant
Time: Present Day
It was raining today. In hindsight, the forecast did say that there was a 65% chance of thunderstorms happening. At least Mark thought ahead and brought his coat along to keep himself from getting drenched. During his walk, he saw hundreds of different races at a time. Twi'leks, Zabrak, Zeltrons, Duros, and most of all, humans. Lots of humans. He wasn't on official Jedi business and wanted to pass off as a normal every-day guy. Thing is, he didn't want to part from his lightsabers and so kept them on his person. He just made sure they were hidden well. The young man nearly jumped when he heard the thunder going off like a high-grade military explosive. Even with the sounds of traffic high up in the air he could still hear it. Mark shook his head with a grin. Seeing as he dealt with quite a number of strange things during his tenure as a Padawan in the Republic, he shouldn't react the way he did to freaking thunder.
He abruptly took a few steps forward to keep from falling onto his face and making a fool of himself. Turning around, he saw a young Zeltron woman with pink skin and dark blue hair. She looked rather pissed off, and drunk to boot. If there was one thing he learned during his time in the Backstreet Reds, it's that you don't want to piss off drunk women. Lady Vector was a perfect example of this. She can be a down right demon when she gets her hands on some kind of alcohol. Hopefully, she took his advice and dropped the stuff before he left the gang for good. Maybe not. Under normal circumstances, Mark would shoot off his mouth and say something he'd regret later, but now was not one of those days. He wanted to keep a low profile, and that meant not drawing attention to himself. So, he gave the lady a smile, apologized, and stepped out of her way. She continued on going where she was going in the first place.
Mark sighed and chuckled to himself. The rain continued to pour, and while the coat protected him some, he wanted to go inside a building. Eventually, he made his way into a club type setting. So far, the young man was dressed in simple clothing instead of the good old Jedi robes. A black t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, desert brown combat boots, and the dark-green jacket that he never parts from. He keeps his lightsabers in a custom sewn holster in his jacket in an area where it will be concealed from view, and where it will be comfortable for him. When he slid into a booth, Mark looked around to see all kinds of people dancing to the techno music that was being blasted from the speakers. The last couple of times he went into a club, he mostly heard the generic, mainstream stuff. At least this place had the sense to be unique. A waitress came by and asked him what he wanted to drink. Mark chose a Corellian whiskey. It was the stuff his surrogate mother liked.
When the waitress returned with the whiskey, Mark nodded his thanks and sipped at it. Hopefully, the Force would be kind to him and let him have a few hours of downtime by himself.
