[b]Broken Exhaust[/b]

Solasier Ra was quite unimpressed by this establishment, as he was almost all human facilities. Supposedly this was the the most luxurious eatery in the entirety of this dilapidated station, but he wouldn't be surprised if he was given a trough to eat from. He uninterestedly pushed some unknown foodstuff of questionable edibility around his plate as he sat quietly and contemplatively. Another day, another filthy Mon-keigh facility that he had to smuggle himself into. Kaelor was half the span of the galaxy away at this time, and he had little to do until it made its rounds back through this sector. While he was not impatient, he was also very tired of being forced to live like this: in secrecy and putridity. To lessen his suffering, he had tried to hitchhike on human ships to put himself closer to Kaelor's path, but that only led him to places like this.

He leaned back in his seat, careful to not disturb too greatly the hood covering his face. To keep a low profile, he wore lengthy, voluminous robes to disguise his appearance. The obtuse garment aided to mask the alien fluidity of his movements, but not enough to make them imperceptible to a keen observer. Returning to the Children of Thorns was out of the question; it was only in recognition of his skills and accomplishments that they had allowed him to live when he declared his intentions to leave their band. A disgraceful return would not be looked upon favorably. He had endured worse conditions than this when he was a pirate, but the key difference was how bored he now was. He found little to do but wander around, meditate, and try to find some manner of foul, human food that was even somewhat palatable.

He checked the closest chronometer. It was time that he got up and moving. A human trader ship would be arriving within the hour, and he planned to pass himself off as a crewmember to stow away aboard it. However, before Solasier rose to his feet, he noticed a human with a gun a few booths away. He took aim at some persons sat at a bar, oblivious to the posed threat which the Eldar noticed only from his angle. Solasier remained seated. A little entertainment went well with a meal.

The man fired and missed his intended target, and the establishment exploded into screams and gunfire. Patrons surged out of the bar as the gunman contended with his now alerted marks. It almost physically pained Solasier to watch the fight take place. Humans were so incredibly clumsy when they moved, it was a shock to him that they didn't constantly dislocate their own limbs. The slowness and inefficiency of their movements would be humorous if it wasn't embarrassing, like watching a pair of infants struggle over a toy. A bullet was fired in Solasier's direction, and without rising from his seat, he rolled his neck to avoid it meeting his head. This action performed as casually as one would adjust their position to avoid a glare. Eventually the dust settled, the gunman managing to kill two of his targets in the struggle, and being killed himself. What a pathetic show. If anyone had been stupid enough to try and ambush Solasier and [i]miss their first shot[/i], they would not have a second.

The remaining human was a woman, as far as Solasier could tell. She seemed incredibly unwell, her body corpulent and disgustingly bloated. How humans could even live like that confused the Eldar. Either way, she looked about two steps from death, herself, despite being practically uninjured. Considering the beast too ugly to continue looking at, Solasier considered his entertainment over. He rose from his seat, a highly conspicuous movement given his height and that he was one of the only living patrons left in the bar, and began to walk out. Masked by his robes, his long stride and uncannily graceful movement were only strange at passing glance, not worth of undue suspicion from most. He kept his elfin, inhuman features hidden in the shadows of his hood. Reaching the door of the bar, he stopped momentarily. There was a strange tension in the air, he realized. He would have to proceed to the docks quickly, if he wanted to avoid being caught up in whatever was about to transpire. Proceeding out of the establishment, his hand idly fell to rest on the splinter pistol concealed under his robes.