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[color=60b6bf][h3]Tybren | Mandalore | Keldabe, Administrative District[/h3][/color][sub]Mentions:[@Quest Abandoner][/sub]
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Tybren gazed intently at Rask as he offered up a scant explanation of his presence on Mandalore. The warrior kept his expression and posture as carefully neutral as he could to mask the tiny worm of anxiety squirming in his gut. He was no closer to determining his old comrade's intentions, and, like so many times before, was painfully aware of how close he could be playing this to his own demise. An awkward reunion on the street corner or a quick, brutal shootout - the two options now balanced on a vibroblade's edge, and failure to call the right cards here could potentially bring negative consequences not just to Tybren, but to whomever in the city the gunman was out to get. His mind flickered quickly to the young Jedi sprawled on the training mat this morning: red-faced and determined, but helpless.

[color=darkorange]"Hell, I'll be honest, I forgot about the Founding. I'm planetside lookin up old friends is all, just worked out that I ended up here at the worst damn time for it."[/color] 

Tybren hadn't known Rask to let things like that slip by him, but at the same time it seemed a ridiculous thing to lie about. Either senility set in at an earlier age on those high-grav worlds or the old drifter had more important things to worry about than disrupting Founding Day. Tybren eased up, just a bit - took the hand off of his beskad and placed them both squarely on his hips. It was a relief to know that Rask wasn't openly running with the Irregulars anymore, too, and it sounded like he hadn't heard from them in a long time. Still, seemed to Tybren that the only reason he decided to switch sides was the cred-well had run dry. Hopefully there was more to it than that.

[color=darkorange]"You weren't on the itinerary, but I'm happy I ran into ye."[/color]

He smiled, mouth compressed into a thin line, and nodded slightly. A cheap sentiment easily given.

[color=darkorange]"You look like you done well for yerself, Tybren. How'd a merc like yourself come into retirement? That don't happen every day. Make it big, or you got a side gig goin?"[/color]

He had to chuckle at that, smile widening a bit. No, it didn't happen every day. Not even most days. He was damn lucky to make it this far, in fact. 

[color=60b6bf]"Didn't quite win it all; just got out at a good time. When Mand'alor called us home, I offered my services to my people instead. Somehow I found myself promoted. Now I oversee training, smooth things over between the different moving parts of our... unusual government. Not typical jobs for an old soldier, but they can be rewarding."[/color] He patted the pommel of the beskad slowly. [color=60b6bf]"No one's hired my sword in a good bit of time, now."[/color]

Tybren slowly let out the rest of a long breath that he had been holding. Much as he tried, he had never been great at reading the types of people he came across in the day-to-day. Politicians, Jedi, the like, they all seemed maddeningly inscrutable to him. Soldiers, though... mercs, outlaws... marshals. These were people he knew a little better. And though he wasn't inclined to trust Rask, there was something about him that seemed different than way back in the day. Much different. He seemed sad, or tired somehow, in a way that Tybren felt an inexplicable affinity for.

Then the drums began, and the murmur of his thoughts and the vague anxiety all dissipated gradually as the beats picked up from a scattered call-and-response to an uninterrupted canvas of sound, a perfect harmony rising into the heady air of the crowded streets. Like a man suddenly stricken by a trance Tybren half-turned away from Rask and lifted his head slightly to look into the middle distance just above the rooftops, feeling a surge of emotion grip him. It had been a long, often times confusing, sometimes painful road to get here for him, and he suspected the same for many of his kin that walked the streets around him. And yet, here they were, strong as they had ever been. As the deep baritone refrains of Vode An began to join the drumbeats from somewhere in the city, Tybren found himself quietly mouthing along. An otherworldly confidence now had him in its grip; feeling invulnerable, he took a massive risk and turned his back completely to Rask. Time to call his card. If he was wrong, this was where it would all end. But he had a good feeling it wasn't quite time yet. He bent briefly to pick up his helmet and turned back over his shoulder to regard Rask. 

[color=60b6bf]"Walk with me, if you've got the time. I'll have to be at the Citadel soon, but we can catch up on the way - maybe I can help you find the friends you're looking for."[/color]

With that, he lifted his helmet back over his head, exhaling a bit as the pressure seals popped into place, and turned his gaze back towards the bustling street ahead.