Misguided Ghost
As Ripley ventured through the streets of Elroodan, she felt as though her excitement may overwhelm her. She had been toying with pursuing her force training for some time, but she was reluctant to return to the ancient being who had called himself her master before. However, after her force powers helped her in her recent jailbreak, Ripley knew she wanted to hone them. She had first managed to escape Coruscant, just barely dodging authorities, and made her way to Elrood before lying low. After, she had returned to the holonet, with quite a strange request: to find someone to teach her the ways of the force without shoving their pious and devout bulldruk down her throat. The young she-wolf had waited what seemed like ages before she received a response, but when she finally got one, she was pleasantly surprised. A fellow slicer had recommended a man named
Kahne Porte
, who seemed to be a respected individual, very modern in his teachings. Ripley had managed to reach out and arrange a meeting with the man, which she was running late for.
She arrived at a small cafe which she had chosen. It was out of the way enough it didn't draw crowds, and the constant noise of the brewing machines made sure nothing would be overheard; after all, she was still a wanted fugitive. As she entered, a small bell chimed, alerting to her presence. The workers barely looked up from behind the counters, too involved in whatever mundane tasks they were performing. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing who was sitting where. Only about five of the eleven tables were filled, but she didn't seem to see the man she was supposed to meet. Then again, the photo in his intelligence file that she had sliced into was grainy at best, so it was possible she was missing him- or perhaps she wasn't the only one running late.
She made her way to the counter, ordering a hot drink. The employees quickly brewed it and handed it over to her. She then found a table in the back corner, where she would sit, sipping from her cup and waiting.
She arrived at a small cafe which she had chosen. It was out of the way enough it didn't draw crowds, and the constant noise of the brewing machines made sure nothing would be overheard; after all, she was still a wanted fugitive. As she entered, a small bell chimed, alerting to her presence. The workers barely looked up from behind the counters, too involved in whatever mundane tasks they were performing. Her eyes scanned the room, noticing who was sitting where. Only about five of the eleven tables were filled, but she didn't seem to see the man she was supposed to meet. Then again, the photo in his intelligence file that she had sliced into was grainy at best, so it was possible she was missing him- or perhaps she wasn't the only one running late.
She made her way to the counter, ordering a hot drink. The employees quickly brewed it and handed it over to her. She then found a table in the back corner, where she would sit, sipping from her cup and waiting.