Of all of the places in the great nucleus in the Empire, Rama's Corner was most like - to Salem - a Siren. It's atmosphere was one that held you. A sense of curiousity as to what each of the patrons was doing here and what their occupation was crossed you as soon as your foot passed the threshold. Salem was no different, and he found each tormented visage and placid mask just as luring as the previous.
"A drink, sir?"
Sir - that wasn't something he'd ever been called before. It was mostly just 'Master', as in Master Ave; a simple terminology used by the house masters at his school.
"No."
Bluntness was of no worry to the young Sith, afterall the tenders here would have fielded worse from the scum of the galaxies many a time. However a little politeness never went amiss.
"... thank you."
The boy sat himself down at one table far from the bar quickly and placed the book that he carried down on the tabletop. The volume sent a squall of dust into the air, and Salem sneezed loudly as the particles tingled at his senses; much to the amusement of the others in the bar.
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