[center]~|Day 2, 16:40 GST|~
~| Jedi Master Lyric Novan in the Memory of Coruscant, Mess hall |~[/center]

It was five hours and ten minutes into the flight when the captain notified Lyric his task was completed. In short, he was being booted out. Any other prideful and sensitive Jedi might’ve taken the captain’s blunt ways to heart, but Lyric didn’t. In fact he appreciated it for its honesty and lacking of wasting time that he ended up thanking the man, then moved to the door without a scene. 

Now he had some time to kill and he knew just how to do it. His hands folded into his robes, lying in the larger sleeves that cradled and rested his arms, while his feet lead him to the mess halls. However, it wasn’t because he was hungry. In fact, he had eaten well during the whole ship’s preparation before embarking on its dangerous mission. No, he had another motive to heading to the very place he knew all the Jedi would visit sooner or later. It was the easiest way he could spend time ‘bonding’ and evaluating his present crew onboard. He needed to know what type of Jedi he was working with as the war produced many stereo typical types, from the unorthodox shadows to the stern, hard code peacekeepers. All them unique even among their various roles which made the order up as a whole in pushing out the Sith. The only negative part was it seemed to been failing during the passing war. 

Casualties, Sith and corpse numbers  grew with the passing years, killing the Jedi hope rate with it over the time. It seemed the Sith knew exactly how to cripple them without ever laying a finger on them. His fingers balled up into a fist under his robe while his feet slowed, turning into the mess hall’s entrance. It didn’t take long for him to sense those present, among them one powerfully force sensitive one, Master Tetsu, appeared to be finishing her meal and chattering among a group of soldiers. The collection was made from various young and promising Republic men and women who loyally served the Republic. 

Careful not to interrupt the proceedings, Lyric causally walked by to take a seat at the table’s end. The one right beside the Twi’lek master. Leaning back against his stool, his lungs inhaled another smoky puff and exhaled when his hand removed the ciggara from his mouth. He took great care not to blow the rings into the current speaker’s direction while he related a recent adventure, his ears perked and surveying the Twi’lek carefully.