[center]~| Day 2, 8:46- 8:05 GST |~
~| Aboard the Kaggath, Sith Halls |~[/center]

Khan Sainen behaved as a Jedi and a Warrior should considering the circumstances he faced. Well, at least that's what the young Echani told himself, despite the fact that he'd failed in avoiding capture, despite the fact that he felt like a coward for abandoning his Master, even if he had been told to run. Though truth be told the thing that was making it most difficult of all to act as a prisoner of war should was that he wasn't being treated like he assumed a prisoner or war would be treated at all. He had yet to be beaten or tortured, although he assumed that would change shortly. In his childhood days the soldiers in his mother's retinue and those he hung around during inspections had loved to thrill and horrify the commander's son with endless and myriad stories of the tortures a captured soldier could expect when the enemies they faced were as ruthless as the Sith.

Well, those stories didn't seem nearly as amusing now.

To pass the time and keep himself occupied after he was lead off the transport ship he memorized how many steps he took and exactly which turns he and his guards made as they lead him away towards his unknown destination, nurturing the tiny hope in the back of his mind that he might sneak his way through if another transport arrived, hijack it and escape with other captives. It was a vain hope most likely, since the boy had no idea how to fly a ship and doubted he could fight through an entire prison's staff plus whatever Sith and other evils lurked within by himself. But it made him feel better and kept him occupied nonetheless, after all no matter the battlefield information was power. He occasionally looked around to examine the ship, its' size, make and model fairly new to him and therefore at least passingly interesting, but to his admittedly rather nonsensical disappointment there wasn't much of anything to really see. Khan didn't bother with interacting with or examining his guards. Their body language was smooth and businesslike, as blank and dull as the ship's hallways to his Echani mind. Out of the pair flanking him he could likely have knocked both out before they even thought to shoot him, but as his Master often said violence would make more problems than it solved. He would still be stuck in the same situation, only then his captors would be angry. So Khan kept quiet, observed, and walked onward.

Finally the situation changed for the better, or at least the less boring. They came upon another group of guards and two of what he presumed to be Sith, escorting an older man who was by his appearance and circumstances a Jedi Knight. 

The most notable by her stance was the Zabrak. She carried herself...cautiously, warily, like a duelist circling an opponent in the ring. Khan could tell she was good, too. Light on her feet, movements reserved, economical and precise even out of combat like this. Khan found his fists itching slightly with the near-instinctive drive to test her in combat, get a full read of her abilities for himself and learn more about his captors at the same time. But...no. Now was not the  time, his Master and his mother both would council patience, restraint. Still, another time he would have to see about it.

What he presumed to be an actual Sith came next in his awareness. It might have been that he was too inexperienced at reading such a creature, but without the exchange of combat to reveal it to him he couldn't get a read on her, which bothered him more than he'd like to admit. Instead he switched his attention to the final newcomer of note.

The Knight was...a strange one. His body was bruised, beaten and worse, Khan could tell by the way he carried himself slightly tenderly, his body subconsciously trying to avoid triggering inevitable physical pains. But the sagging crush of true despair was missing from his stance, he held himself brightly, not like someone who was suffering from obvious effects of prolonged torture. He recognized Khan for what he was as well, and acknowledged him with his face as well as his stance. 

"You know what they call five Sith piled on top of a lightsaber?" Denso suddenly asked the Echani, breaking their silence with a joke. "A Sith-Kabob."

"S-snrk!~"

The joke was so unexpected, so out of place that despite years of discipline and their grim surroundings  that the young Echani couldn't help but laugh. It started out as a choked off sort of thing but then bubbled up into hysterical giggling of the sort he'd normally have considered himself a little too old for if he could control himself. But before he knew it it had gripped him in full on paroxysms of laughter to the point where even when one of his guards smacked him across the back of the head he could still barely choke them back down. 

It had felt good to laugh, better than he would've thought possible. If they both escaped alive, or at least got clear of these guards, Khan would have to thank the older man for that.

Before he could do anything much else, the Zabrak stopped for a moment, body quivering with an odd sort of tension before rushing to check on something Khan didn't quite get and insisting the Sith stay here with himself and the old man much to his disappointment.

With that odd bit of strangeness done Khan addressed both the older Jedi and the Sith, deferring to his seniors even in these bizarre and trying circumstances:

"So, what happens now? I expect we're going to be tortured?"