After a certain age and level of training, the Jedi begin to expect their Padawans to display a certain amount of decorum and control.
Most of the time, Laranth manages this. It's not really hard, actually, but it took her a while to learn.
Today? Today, she is scampering. Her Master is off-planet on a mission, her alarm didn't go off, and she
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He has a cup of coffee and a box full of brightly coloured pastries. In one hand, there's some kind of roll that appears to be dripping red goo as he bites into it.
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(She may have bowled over a younger Padawan on her way here. Oops.)
"Please, Bar, some hot chav and trandoshani flatcakes, with Wasaka berries?"
Her universe's version of hot chocolate, and crepes with berries. No one said that just 'cause she's alien she doesn't like sweets.
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Earl's an angel. Not an etiquette specialist.
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After a long moment, she decides that, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"I am sorry sir, but could you say that again?" She asks in slightly accented Huttese
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He's not sure what she is exactly, but rushing like that is never a good idea.
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"I was hurrying to class. The bar put itself in my way."
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"That was inconvenient of it. At least you won't be any later this way."
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Other than that?
No bells. She wears Jedi robes all the time. It's... a very regulated style.
"And I can have some proper breakfast - just as well, there is 'saber training later today."
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