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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"With training, yes," Garth'zel agrees. "How about you start with trying to push the plate your sandwich is on across the table? I'd rather not need to clean up a mess if your glass manages to tilt over." Resulting in juice everywhere.

"Picture the plate sliding across the table and want it to do so," Garth'zel instructs. "Don't be too disappointed if you fail. This is the first time you're trying this, so it's not likely you'll succeed on the first attempt."

Well, he could have just finished off his juice first, but with his hunger at least somewhat sated for now and with eagerness spurring him on, Ezra opts to just follow the suggestion to switch his efforts to his plate, even going so far as to rest his chin on the table to he can look at the plate dead on as he wills it to scoot away from him. Too bad he has no idea what he's actually doing, or how to tap into that nebulous sense that sometimes warns him about things. A minute passes, and then it becomes two, with Ezra picturing and picturing and wishing and alternating between squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them open, but nothing at all seems to happen. Nothing he can see.

Garth'zel might be able to feel the whisper in the Force from his attempts, though - a fledgling flutter of wings that have never flown before. Too weak and unfocused - or maybe not focused long enough - to move even a small plate from its spot, but enough to confirm that the potential is there.

Unaware of his accomplishment, Ezra groans in frustration. "It's not working," he complains, dropping his head to the table in that dramatic way that little kids often tend to have.

"I did tell you that you probably wouldn't succeed right away," Garth'zel points out, carefully hiding his amusement. "We're probably starting with something too big. I think I'll need to take some time to remember how I was first taught so I can teach you properly."

That answer doesn't do much to mollify Ezra. The little boy's shoulders stay slumped with disappointment. "Maybe I just can't do it at all," he says. "Maybe you're wrong about me." That seems like a very real possibility to him. He's certainly never done anything like what Garth'zel just did.

Still, sullen or not, he doesn't forget that he still has a sandwich to finish. Foregoing the failed exercise, he picks the food back up and gets back to work eating as much as he can. Even with an offer of employment and food, he can't shake the fear that he might not get anything else to eat anytime soon.

"Or maybe you just don't have any experience to draw on yet," Garth'zel says firmly. "I didn't succeed on my first attempt. The first deliberate one, that is."

Things going flying around in response to his emotions don't count as 'on purpose'.

"Finish your food, then you can get cleaned up." Garth'zel considers for a moment. "My shirts are big enough they can be considered a nightshirt on you. You can wear one of them while your clothes are in the wash."

No, a shower and having laundry done isn't optional.

That just sounds like the kind of things adults say to make you feel better. Moody as Ezra is right now, he doesn't bother believing it.

He does pause at the word laundry, though, his thoughts instantly jumping to the food he snuck into his pockets. That food definitely won't handle being washed! And he doesn't have someplace safe he can hide it, either. "It's okay," he says quickly. "I don't need clean clothes. My clothes aren't too dirty yet!"

It's not a lie! Not by his definition!

Never mind that his "definition" is more along the lines of "look, I'm not covered in mud!"

"Ezra, eat the food you've been putting in your pockets so I won't have to take it out before your clothes are washed," Garth'zel sighs. He would rather not need to fight an eight-year-old.

Too bad Garth'zel is setting himself up to fight a year's worth of ingrained survival habits. Ezra scoots back at the first mention of Garth'zel taking his food.

"I'm gonna eat it later," he says, tensing as he prepares to bolt or defend his pockets if he has to. "I'm not that hungry right now." Sort of true. He could eat more, but he's also eaten more already than he has in several days, so his stomach is content enough for now.

"Then leave it on the plate to eat later without getting covered in whatever dirt is in your pockets," Garth'zel says firmly.

Leave it isn't an option. Leave it just invites someone else to take it, or for rats to steal it when you're not looking. Leave it only works if you have something to put your food in that no one else is going to open up. Still tense, Ezra shakes his head stubbornly.

"I don't want to," he argues, unwilling to budge. "You can't make me!"

Well, maybe he could, if Garth'zel got his hands on him, but Ezra's not going to let it come to that.

"Child, who do you think is going to take it?" Garth'zel says exasperatedly. "The only people aboard this ship besides you and me are people doing repairs and they have their own food for when they're ready to take a break for lunch."

"But they might! People take stuff that doesn't belong to them all the time! Or- or rats'll eat it, or... or..." Or maybe Garth'zel himself will take it away if Ezra doesn't do what he wants, a possibility that's looking more and more likely the more Ezra resists. Not taking his eyes off of the man, the little boy slides out of his seat - slowly, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he's getting ready to run.

"No, they won't take it because they know that I'll know exactly who did, due to the fact they're the only ones allowed access to my ship," Garth'zel says firmly. "Not to mention, the parts they don't need access to, they're locked out of, and there's no reason for them to be in the galley. The parts that make the ship work and related crawlspaces, yes. The main living area, no."

A quick motion of his hand later, the door to the galley slides closed.

"Ezra, it's okay. No one is going to take anything away from you here," he says quietly. "Anyone who tries will have to answer to me."

Edited Date: 2018-07-08 08:47 pm (UTC)

Ezra jumps in surprise when the door slides shut without Garth'zel being near it at all. Whether he did it with a remote or with his abilities doesn't matter. Ezra's escape route just got cut off.

Immediately, his eyes dart around the room looking for another way to get out. There are vents, of course, but it would take too much time to get them off if Garth'zel is trying to catch him.

"You can't keep me in here!" he protests, thinking fast. If he can't get out himself, he'll have to get Garth'zel to let him out. "I can't take a bath if you do!"

"Scrubbing up at the sink would be a pain in the behind," Garth'zel agrees, censoring himself slightly due to Ezra's age. "What would it take to convince you that nothing's going to happen to your food while you're washing up?"

Don't worry, Garth'zel. Ezra's young ears have already been exposed to plenty of bad words. You're not likely to shock him there.

He scowls instead. "I'm too big for a sink!"

He is! Even if it's not by much.

Still suspicious, he looks at Garth'zel, as though trying to find the catch in his words. Will he really give Ezra what he wants, or is it just a trick that he'll go back on as soon as Ezra's in the 'fresher? "I wanna keep it with me," he demands. "An'- An' I want a box to put it in, so rats can't get it." There. He thinks that's perfectly reasonable, and then he can make sure no one takes his food himself.

"You are aware there are no rats on my ship?" Garth'zel asks with a raised eyebrow before shrugging. "I'd need to find one that's a reasonable size. The crates in the hold are ridiculously large for what you want."

"No rats you know about," Ezra says stubbornly. "Rats get everywhere." He knows. He's seen them get in places people don't think they can.

He lifts his chin now, looking Garth'zel right in the eyes (never mind how much he has to look up). That wasn't a no, so maybe he can keep pressing this. "That's the deal. I want a box, or I won't take a bath."

"Shower, actually. There's no bathtubs on board ships," Garth'zel says mildly. "Regarding the rats, I know exactly where each living thing on board is. I can sense them. If there were rats, I'd be able to feel them. Along with convincing them to come out from wherever they hid so I could remove them from the ship."

Ezra sets his jaw. "No way. No one can do that. An'- And even if you could, the ship's too big! You can't be sure!"

"Every living thing has its own presence in the Force," Garth'zel says patiently.

Garth'zel's point goes right over Ezra's head. The Force is still an unknown to him. "But rats are little. No one sees them unless they're lookin' and only if they're not hiding!"

"Size doesn't really matter when one has the Force. After all, I knew you were there without ever having seen you, didn't I?" Garth'zel points out before thinking of something and going to a cabinet to rummage around, finding something meant to transport meals in.

"I just thought of this. It's meant to carry one's lunch or supper in if one is going to be out somewhere and either can't or don't want to buy food when hungry."

"I'm a lot bigger than a rat." Even if people do call him a street rat sometimes.

But now his face lights up a little when Garth'zel comes back with a lunch box. He can remember using those to take his lunch to school before. That'll work perfectly!

"Yeah!" he says. "I can use that! Mom used to let me use one of those before, but- but it had Loth-cats on it." Look, he likes Loth-cats, okay? But even though this box doesn't have any childish designs on it, he still reaches his hands out anyway. A box is a box, and a deal is a deal. This way he can keep his food with him!

Edited Date: 2018-07-09 12:17 am (UTC)

Garth'zel hands it over. "I forgot I had it since I don't need it very often."

Maybe now he can get this child to get clean. He can figure out what to do afterward later.