spncentral | 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.

Current Mood: calm

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Ezra can absolutely come up with an argument.

"It didn't work anyway, did it?"

Garth'zel gives him an exasperated look. "That's not the point, and you know it."

Honestly, child.

"What made you pick me as a target, anyway?"

Whether or not Ezra knows it, he still feels like his own point is valid. He didn't succeed, so in the end it didn't matter to Garth'zel what Ezra did.

With the shift of subject, Ezra shrugs halfheartedly. How is supposed to describe that anyway? He'd acted on a whim, a feeling too nebulous for an eight year old to understand completely. If he said it was his instincts, would the man just laugh at him? Instincts are what his dad used to say he had whenever he tried to explain stuff like this. But his instincts had been wrong this time.

"I dunno," he finally says. "You were just... better, and... and you had shiny boots an' nice clothes."

"My boots were only shiny because I hadn't been on the ground long enough for them to get dirty," Garth'zel points out.

"As for my clothes..." He shrugs. "Fair enough. I can afford it, so I may as well get some that are good enough quality to last for some time. Hopefully a few years."

"They're still good boots," Ezra says. "Some people who get off ships still have bad boots." Or no boots, but Ezra can't exactly judge the quality of every type of footwear.

He's warming up to the conversation a little now, so after another bite of sandwich (and another bit stuck in his pocket), he adds a little bit to shine up his reputation. "I just knew from lookin' at you that you were better than the first guy I saw."

"Considering I'm hoping to get you in the shower to get cleaned up and your clothes in the wash, you may want to stop sticking food in your pockets," Garth'zel says with a raised eyebrow.

Then, as if he'd said no such thing, "I tend to be fairly active, so good boots are a good idea. Don't want to find myself unwilling to keep going if I have to walk a long distance because of my feet hurting too much from boots in poor shape, now do I?"

That pronouncement is met with a look of bafflement, followed closely by a scowl. "What do you want me to take a shower for?" Sure, he's had people complain that he smells, but it's not like he's sticking around.

The discussion about boots is getting dropped in favor of this threat to his food, which his little hands are clutching protectively now.

"A couple of reasons. One," He raises a forefinger, "You'll feel better if you're clean. For the second one, I'm going to need to ask you something first. That being, how well do you know Capital City. Enough to know what a newcomer to the planet might find interesting or useful?"

That first reason is met with nothing but suspicion. Sure, Garth'zel. Just try to convince a little boy that he'll feel better after a shower. The second reason, though...

His interest is piqued just enough to answer honestly. "I know it a lot. I've always lived here. Why? An' what's it got to do with a shower?"

"That brings me to reason two: no one is going to take you seriously as a guide if you and your clothes are dirty." Garth'zel goes quiet to take another sip of his juice as he gives that time to sink in.

What?

"I'm not a guide." Ezra's staring up at him, caught off guard because where did he get that idea?

"Not yet, considering you haven't been hired to do so yet," Garth'zel agrees. He was hoping the child would be faster on the uptake than this.

Cut him some slack, Garth'zel. He's only eight (barely eight) and the last thing he was expecting to hear after talking about showers is a job offer from the guy he just tried to pickpocket.

"You want me to be your guide?" he asks, disbelief coloring his voice. Why would he hire a kid? Why would he hire Ezra? "I know lots of stuff, but... but I don't got a speeder or... or... Lots of people don't even want me around."

"We don't need a speeder. Or if we do, I can rent one." But Garth'zel doesn't expect to need to. "You'll probably be harder to recognize when you're cleaned up, since they're used to you as you are now."

He shrugs slightly. "It's your choice, but there's three meals a day, a safe place to sleep if you want it, and pay. Not as much as there should be, but if I give you too much, you'll just become a target to steal from."

Well, okay, maybe a shower might help with that, though Ezra can't help but still doubt that he'd still be recognizable even without the dirt. But there's a bigger question here now, one he can't ignore.

"Why?" Food and safety and a job and money - it all sounds too good to be true. And when things sound too good, they usually are, and the streets have taught Ezra to look for the catch. "Why are you doing this? Why me? I'm just a... a dirty street rat. There's better people than me you could ask."

"You're the one I've found and need the help," Garth'zel says firmly. "If I found an adult, all he or she would be getting is the money."

Garth'zel considers Ezra for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "I have a feeling about you, that's all."

Ezra stills with surprise. Not at Garth'zel's more reasonable explanation, but at the second, more nebulous part. It echoes so closely with what he'd been thinking about earlier, but... it's not the same thing, is it?

Is it?

"A feeling?" he asks, unable to repress his curiosity. "What kind of feeling?"

Garth'zel considers how to explain it. "I suppose it could be considered instinct. Like the feeling you get about who is and is not a good target to pickpocket. Or beg from."

It's like Garth'zel said the magic words. A tingle of shock runs through Ezra that's so profound that he almost puts the last of his sandwich down. Eyes wide, he leans forward, elbows on the table and all.

"You get those feelings too?" Gone is his doubt and suspicion for now, swallowed up by excitement. "Like you just know stuff an' it gets you out of trouble? Or...or... stuff just goes right if you listen?" He hasn't found anyone who really understands what he's talking about. Even his parents didn't really know what he meant.

"Or knowing that someone was following me with the intention to do something they shouldn't, like say, try to pick my pocket?" Garth'zel says with a raised eyebrow.

He experimentally nudges at Ezra's mind. Not enough to do anything; just to see if he has the sensitivity to notice.

"I wasn' tryin' to be mean!" Ezra protests, suddenly desperate to stay in Garth'zel's good graces. He turns pleading eyes up at him, willing him to understand. "I was just- I was just really hungry, 'cause... 'cause mom an' dad..." No, a lie won't do now. A lump forms in Ezra's throat, because it's not something he likes to talk about, to admit to anyone, but this is important. Garth'zel might be the first person like Ezra that Ezra's ever met. "You're right," he says in a rush. "Mom an' dad are gone. The Empire took them away." Angry tears threaten to well up for just a moment, and he might have said more to explain-

-but that's when something nudges his attention, and he jumps, spooked, head snapping around to try to spot what it is.

"I lost my parents too, although through different circumstances," Garth'zel says quietly before Ezra jumps.

"Felt that, did you? That was me checking something. We have the ability to do more than just tell when things will happen or if we should do them." Now he gives Ezra a serious look. "It's something you should never talk about to someone you don't trust because there are plenty of bad people who would want to take advantage of what you can do."

Ezra hesitates, unsure how to respond to that. He peers at Garth'zel, then around the room again, frowning when he can't find what caught his attention. "What did you do?" he asks, confused. What is even that he's not supposed to talk about? "It's not just instincks?"

The comment about Garth'zel's parents gets tucked away for now. It's another thing he doesn't know how to respond to, since no one's ever admitted something like that to him before.

"I gave your mind a little nudge with mine to see if you'd notice," Garth'zel explains. "And no. It's not. It's a lot more than that. Has anyone explained to you what the Force is?"

The answer doesn't do a whole lot to clear the mystery up. He wants to ask but how? except Garth'zel asks him a question first, and suddenly he has to wonder if this is something he should know. He ducks his head now, staring at his cup, guilt and worry making him reluctant to shake his head.

"I... I don't go to school anymore," he admits. It had been boring, and what was the point, and he'd had to worry about finding food. (And maybe it was as much because his parents weren't there to take him, and that makes something hurt in his chest and throat.)