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They finally depart the crawler at sunset, just outside Mos Taike. The Jawas settle in for the night, planning to make their rounds among the moisture farmers and the town's small market in the morning. Tsedec leads them out, shaking each of their hands and bowing quickly before heading back into the crawler. In the distance, the twin suns burn white and orange, the sky now dusted in purple and gray, the shadows of the dunes and of the small farm homes that dot the landscape cut darkness across the bright sands.

No more than a klik away is Mos Taik – compared to Mos Elrey, it looks rather run down. It's also surrounded by walls, but they're lower, and clearly chipped and crumbling in places. There are fewer earthen towers, most buildings also low to the ground, and while there had been plenty of activity outside the walls of Mos Elrey, here there's only one other vehicle, a speeder just at the wall, two figures piling sacks into it. Beyond the city, much, much farther in the distance, a cliff rises up from the sands, and perched on it the dark, miniscule outline of what must be the Hutt's palace.

But Kanan only glances over this, before turning back, out to the desert. Something about the color of the suns, the shadows, the wind rising over the desert makes Kanan pause. He looks out to the horizon, to the twin suns, one gleaming white hanging high above the other, deep orange and already beginning to fade as it dips deeper in the sky. The wind ebbs, but then picks up once more, whistling around them, chilling the otherwise warm evening. And beneath it – Kanan can hear it, like a voice, familiar yet changed somehow, calling out to him across the dune sea –

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"I'll let Chop know we're here. Do you want to head out right away, or -"

Hera's been looking over the town, trying to guess the chances that it has a decent cantina. Size alone wasn't everything. It's not until she glances to him that she realizes Kanan's still looking out to the empty desert. "Um, Kanan?"

If he could just listen harder, or -- no, maybe farther, this would all come clear, he just knows --

He shakes his head a moment or two after Hera speaks, gaze still turned outward even as he starts dragging his focus back.

" -- Hera? I thought I heard . . . "

She also glances out toward the sunset, briefly, before her eyes flicker back to Kanan.

"What's wrong?"

"Not wrong," he says slowly, lifting one hand to shade his eyes against the deep orange light of the setting suns. He lowers it again a few moments later, shaking his head.

"Just . . . for a moment I thought I heard something familiar, a voice . . . But it must just be a trick of the wind."

Hera waits a few seconds, and then -

"Are you sure?"

He falls silent again, stretching out the barest hint of Force-sense, but --

Whatever he might have caught on the wind, it's gone. Kanan shakes himself, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sure," he says, finally.

And at this precise moment, it's true.

"All right."

Another moment, and then Hera pulls her comm from her belt, remembering again -

"I need to call Chopper."

"Right," Kanan says after a moment. "You said."

He looks out again toward Mos Taike, scrubbing one hand through his hair.

"I -- do you think we could stand to kill a little time here? I just want to see . . . I just want to make sure that whatever I felt isn't going to come back."

Edited 2018-12-27 04:24 (UTC)

Hera takes a breath, considering how grumpy Chopper's likely to be. But -

"I really wouldn't mind eating something besides protein before we leave this rock."

Tatooine might not have that much to offer on that count, but it's still more than they'll find before they're planetside again. She switches on the comm, "Spectre-3, we're at rendezvous."

There's crackling, and then Chopper's grumbling comes on over the comm, confirming that he's landed the Ghost in a nearby valley, between Mos Taike and the path that leads to that distant cliff.

"Mind if we see you in a couple hours? There's not much going on here, you can bring in the Ghost if there's trouble."

Chopper doesn't sound especially happy about this, but Hera just lets him rattle off his list of complaints before - "Yeah, got it, we'll see you in a couple hours."

Kanan cracks a grin.

"You know, bribing him'd be easier if he were capable of eating food."

(Hera's not the only one that would love something besides protein, no matter how poor the provenance. Even mynock would taste good to Kanan just now, by sheer virtue of being something different.)

"Maybe a souvenir hat?"

Does Tattooine even do souvenir hats?

"Maybe we should've picked up some droid parts from the Jawas."

If there was anything he could use - but really, Chopper already got everything they could afford.

With a nod toward the town, "Come on, we should get in before it gets dark. Chopper can bring in the Ghost when we're ready."

Kanan twitches, hiking up his hood and starting to move forward at her signal.

"No, you're right, there are a lot of places I don't want to be after dark, and outside on Tatooine is definitely one of them."

Not that inside is much better, but at least it's probably not cold?

Edited 2018-12-27 04:50 (UTC)

Hera leads the way into town. Unlike Mos Elrey, there doesn't seem to be any visible Imperial presence here. No Stormtroopers at the gates, nothing that even looks big enough to be an office or barracks. She wonders whether it's because the town's so small, or so deep in a Hutt's terrain. When not colluding, the Empire and the Hutts seem to mostly stay out of each other's way.

(Not that things were so different under the Republic, but that's a thought Hera pushes from her mind.)

The speeder that had been parked by the wall is gone when they reach it. There are lights in some windows, hanging lamps, even candles in a few, but many others are darkened. Only a handful of others are on the streets, all wearing cloaks like Hera and Kanan, hoods pulled up. Hera considers asking one of the passersby if there's anywhere to eat in town, but it's so quiet, at first, that holds off.

The suns have nearly set, and Hera's thinking of just calling Chopper and moving on, when she hears voices - many of them, the tell-tale sounds of a gathering place. She turns down an empty street, but can already see the lights at the end of the lane. As they get closer, she can hear the scrape of cups and plates, and the crackle of recorded music playing over the chatter.

"Sounds like something's open," she says.

"Hopefully they welcome all kinds," Kanan says, voice only a little dry.

"And not just partakers in organized crime."

Black Sun is one thing in mixed company, but another thing altogether when you're in one of their actual watering holes.

"It's probably mostly those working for the Hutts."

But she turns to him, and adds, "And that's all kinds."

"So we'll blend in?"

To a point, at least. Regardless, Kanan's already falling in behind her, not quite reaching up to drop his hood, but not too far from it, either.

"At least until things get messy."

"You don't know things'll get messy," she says, stepping on forward toward the cantina.

"No," Kanan agrees, holding the door before stepping through himself.

His 'I don't' is swallowed up by the noise bursting out to greet them, the sound of the horns and percussion from the band, the deep basso voices of two Gamorreans set up by the door, a sudden yelling fight erupting from a dark corner of the bar --

It's child's play to duck the mug that gets launched in their direction by a too-excited Chadra-Fan, shaking it off and stepping farther into the cantina.

The lights are surprisingly bright, maybe with the goal of blinding patrons to the dust and dirt rather than hiding it. Either that, or whoever's manning the lights for the band suffered an enormous miscue. Kanan's not sure which he'd bet on first, but if the brilliance lasts longer than a minute or so, it's probably a permanent condition.

"So. This is nice."

"We've seen worse."

Though usually 'worse' had the decency to keep the lights dim. Still, she leads the way through the bar, dodging the occasional stumbling patron or remains of shattered glass on the floor, until they make their way to the bar. Fortunately, the bar's not too busy, and they get their order quickly enough - Jawa juice for Kanan, bantha milk for Hera (no drinking before piloting), and skewers of roast dune lizard that Hera's hopoing is something like the meat the Jawas had been sharing last night. The smell, at least, is promising.

With their places collected up, "Maybe it's a little darker in that corner?"

Kanan squints a little into the distance, because maybe, sure --

"It's as good as any place else, even if we have to rig my cloak up as a blind," he says after a moment, shaking his head a little.

"Here, you navigate, I'll block anything incoming."

"Great."

The corner she had in mind means another walk across the barroom. She steps carefully among the tables, trying to avoid stepping into spills or the wafting clouds of smoke from deathsticks. The sloping wall and ceiling cast a few shadows over the corner, and once they reach the small, empty table, Hera sets down her mug and plate, and shoves the chairs further into the shadows.

Kanan stays standing until the table is situated as Hera likes it, and she's well-settled. Then he puts down his own mug and plate, tilts his chair just a fraction more out into the flow of traffic than Hera's, and sits himself down.

"No, you're right, it is more shadowed back here."

That's something.

"I can almost see the food I'm about to eat."

He tries to keep his voice down, just in case anyone in the vicinity has a fierce loyalty to this place and its decorating choices. (Stranger things have happened.)

Hera spends a few minutes with her meal, taking deep sips from her Bantha milk and sliding bits of meat from her skewers. It's not particularly seasoned, but it is well-cooked, not overdone and charred and chewy in the right ways. And after thin meals of protein, it's all a welcome change.

It's to give Kanan time to eat, too, before -

"Our next job needs to be a real one. We used a lot of fuel getting here."

Edited 2018-12-31 01:05 (UTC)

Kanan, too, finishes chewing his actually textured food, swallows, and takes a sip of his drink.

Then --

"Yeah. We could probably pick up something here, but the pay will be awful for any of the things we're actually willing to do. But maybe it'd get us to a different planet where we can nab something better?"

"I think we could make it to Bothawui. Lots of options there."

They continue on, slowly working through their meals and going back and forth about whether they should pick up something here or use the fuel they have left to get to a nearby system. It's enough for them to mostly block out the commotion around them, which includes at least one more broken glass and a shouting match over Dust Juice.

What does catch Hera's attention is a hush over the cantina. She glances up, instinctively toward the door, figuring a new patron might have caused the sudden silence.

And she's right. In the doorway, there's a pale Twi'lek, dressed in long black robes, his lekku settled around his shoulders. He's accompanied by a single Gamorrean guard, a Quarren in a cape at his other side. For a few seconds, the other patrons watch the group, but the Twi'lek ignores this, moving with the guard among the tables, while the Quarren heads for the bar.

As they come closer, Hera quickly turns her head away.