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Of Sith And Street Rats
Between thinking it best to steer as far away from the Core as possible given the current regime, and needing repairs to his ship, he finds himself on some backwater planet in the middle of nowhere. Not only that, but so far as he could tell, there were only a handful of cities worth the name with one of them being the capital city. Which was also oh-so-imaginatively named Capital City. It seemed to be his best bet, so it was the one he chose to land at.
While his ship was undergoing repairs, he heads out into the city. The workers don't need him breathing down their necks, so he may as well see what, if anything, was of interest. So lightsaber firmly hidden in his jacket, and anything the mechanics didn't need access to firmly locked, he heads out. May as well start with the market. Wherever it is.
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As he talks, he gets things sorted out so that the cleaning can happen. "I have a dejarik board. Has anyone taught you how to play?" He's a little short on things for a small child to do for fun on board the ship.
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No, instead he'll switch his focus to the question he just got asks. Ezra shakes his head, but perks up, interested. "No. I seen some people play in Old Joh's, but they wouldn't let me play." So he at least has a concept of what the game's about, but no firm knowledge of the rules. "Will you teach me?" A game sounds like the best way to pass the time, but he's not sure if Garth'zel's offering to teach him here.
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Already, Garth'zel is rising higher in Ezra's regard.
"Then let's go play!" he says, excited, and he even frees up one hand from his box of food so he can reach up to take Garth'zel's hand, so that he can tug him along faster.
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Also known as the lounge. Where people entertain themselves outside of their rooms.
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"Okay! I 'member where that is!" And he does. It's not just childish boasting. There's a decent memory in that brain of his. Good enough that he leads them unerringly back to the lounge, even though he's only been there one time.
His eyes spot the dejarik board quickly enough, and that they're here, he lets go of Garth'zel's hand in favor of climbing into a seat at the table. "Can I turn it on?"
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"We'll go over the controls first, and then..."
And so it goes for the next half hour until Garth'zel checks his chrono. "Time to put your clothes in the dryer. Still want to play, or do you need something else to do?"
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The next half hour is one of the most content Ezra's experienced in a pretty long time. He's clean, his tummy is full, and he's getting to play a game with someone, someone who's willing and happy to pay attention to him. Really, what more could a little boy want? After a half hour of that, though... Well, maybe his attention span could use a little break.
"What else is there to do?" he asks, not quite sure if he wants to quit the game.
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"I suppose there's reading if you think you won't get too bored."
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But you just don't tell people you don't know stuff when it's gonna make you look bad, so he shuffles his feet and shrugs. "We can keep playing. I'm having fun." Even if he's not good at it yet.
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"Okay!" he says quickly, getting up from his seat, too. His hands dart under the dejarik table for his box of food - still saving it, but not willing to leave it unattended. Another hangup he can't get over yet.
So while Garth'zel is busy, Ezra busies himself, too, finding and drinking the rest of his juice.
And maybe investigating the galley for a few minutes. You know, just looking. He just wants to know what's there. (If Garth'zel comes looking for him, he's likely to find Ezra poking his nose into a storage cabinet. Otherwise, the boy will head back to the lounge once he thinks it's likely that Garth'zel will be back too.)
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After stretching out with the Force to see where Ezra was, he heads for the galley, raising an eyebrow at him. "I'm going to need to teach you how to sense the location of other people, I see." Given he just caught him rummaging through the cabinet.
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As opposed to panicking.
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"I'm not forgetting." Who forgets something like that? "I promise, I didn't take anything. I don't even have any pockets."
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"I may already be aware that particular shirt of mine doesn't have pockets," Garth'zel says dryly.
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"That doesn't mean you believe me," he says, hunching sullenly. "You could still say I took stuff an' hid it, or- or put it in my box."
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Besides what was supposed to be in it, obviously.
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He wouldn't steal at all if he didn't need to to survive. Unless maybe someone really deserved it, like the Empire.
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Assuming Ezra doesn't decide he needs to burn off his energy somehow.
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"You believe me?" he asks, more because he can't believe it himself. Most times people don't believe him right off. Even when they do believe him, it's never so fast, never without any doubt.
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