The whims of the Force can be terribly odd things, truly. Even with almost a lifetime spent working with it under his own belt, there are still times when the Force's little reveals surprise even Obi-Wan sometimes--sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. But every time, it was for a reason. (No matter how glad or painful the reason might be...) Where this occasion is going to fall on the scale--well, that would remain to be seen.
But it's certainly a most peculiar prickle, in the Force, when a young human man steps into the cantina at length.
Certainly nondescript enough, especially for a Mos Eisley cantina in the Outer Rim. 'Bounty hunter' would have made a good fit for certain--and perhaps this one was. Perhaps...although something naggingly familiar touches the edge of this particular presence, like the echo of a snatch of music you remember hearing a terribly long time ago. Obi-Wan shifts in his seat, idly rubs at his beard, and--no, yes. This must be the one.
The one what? With a presence like that--but good or bad, well-meaning or not...no, much too difficult to tell. Not from here. Not at a distance.
Which just means he'll have to get a bit closer.
Obi-Wan considers his cup--downs the rest of it in its entirety in one decided swallow--and then draws himself to his feet, and wanders back over to the bar, empty glass in hand. Still a heavily hooded man, features mostly obscured save for a nose and beard poking out from the shadow, slightly bent as if with an age and level of inebriation that he doesn't actually feel--a light application of slightly stumbled step, as he comes up against the bar with a bump, and he unsteadily slides into the seat right beside Kanan's, all weather-worn robes and a jovial voice with just enough of a slow lilt to mask the usual clipped precision of a Coruscanti accent.
(He always did have just a bit of a knack, for slipping on certain personas sometimes. Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, he tamps down upon now, muffling it further the closer he gets to the bar--something of a test in itself, really, with senses alert for any shift in notice on the latter's part.)
The hooded man plants his glass solidly on the bartop. "Make it another, if you'd be so kind! And--no, actually--" the bent profile leans towards Kanan, face turning to him, light eyes making a brief flickered appraisal from under cowl, "--make that two! For my good friend here, would you fancy that?" He tilts back with a slight laugh and a flash of a smile, one hand resting easily on Kanan's nearest shoulder as he turns to face the bartender again. "It'll be on me, I insist!"
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But it's certainly a most peculiar prickle, in the Force, when a young human man steps into the cantina at length.
Certainly nondescript enough, especially for a Mos Eisley cantina in the Outer Rim. 'Bounty hunter' would have made a good fit for certain--and perhaps this one was. Perhaps...although something naggingly familiar touches the edge of this particular presence, like the echo of a snatch of music you remember hearing a terribly long time ago. Obi-Wan shifts in his seat, idly rubs at his beard, and--no, yes. This must be the one.
The one what? With a presence like that--but good or bad, well-meaning or not...no, much too difficult to tell. Not from here. Not at a distance.
Which just means he'll have to get a bit closer.
Obi-Wan considers his cup--downs the rest of it in its entirety in one decided swallow--and then draws himself to his feet, and wanders back over to the bar, empty glass in hand. Still a heavily hooded man, features mostly obscured save for a nose and beard poking out from the shadow, slightly bent as if with an age and level of inebriation that he doesn't actually feel--a light application of slightly stumbled step, as he comes up against the bar with a bump, and he unsteadily slides into the seat right beside Kanan's, all weather-worn robes and a jovial voice with just enough of a slow lilt to mask the usual clipped precision of a Coruscanti accent.
(He always did have just a bit of a knack, for slipping on certain personas sometimes. Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, he tamps down upon now, muffling it further the closer he gets to the bar--something of a test in itself, really, with senses alert for any shift in notice on the latter's part.)
The hooded man plants his glass solidly on the bartop. "Make it another, if you'd be so kind! And--no, actually--" the bent profile leans towards Kanan, face turning to him, light eyes making a brief flickered appraisal from under cowl, "--make that two! For my good friend here, would you fancy that?" He tilts back with a slight laugh and a flash of a smile, one hand resting easily on Kanan's nearest shoulder as he turns to face the bartender again. "It'll be on me, I insist!"