"Being betrayed, having those close try to kill you or take what's yours," Sal says, very slow and very carefully, and not so different from the display of emotions he just hinted at, "I know what that's like."

Her world or his, it seems like everyone born with power is forced to fight to be free. It's a cold comfort, that, and Sal takes a longer drink out of the bottle this time.

Jedi or Sith. Angels or Demons. So many different worlds and so many different terms, but she struggles with coming to see them under some simple binary. Good or evil, right or wrong; it's always flawed people making flawed choices, and spending the rest of their lives trying to convince themselves that the path they took was the right one.

"What do you think about this place?" She can't help but ask. Just maybe, if their circumstances are at all the same. "Have you felt any freer since coming here? Living everyday where it's kill or be killed, that's not a light burden. And these Jedi..." She shakes her head. Remembers all the Imperium mages who will fight with the barest provocation against a vagrant.