Finding time for PT (MA, d7)

[Daunt]

"Looks like it." He fell silent, wondering how much he had against himself.

[Djanik]

"Still, that kind of talk is no way to fire up the base."

Lifting himself into a sitting pose, he arched his back, enjoying the snap of his joints.

"It's true, my morals may be based on old corellian faiths, mixed with some Pantoran myths, a little bit of old Republic core world idealism. It still helps motivate me to not shoot half the people I interact with on a daily basis, so it has a use."

[Daunt]

"Sure. People usually accomplish much believing in some ridiculous yet powerful stories." He smirked. "And don't assume too much moral magnanimity. You don't shoot because you might miss or not hurt enough and be hit back twice as hard. It's fear that usually prevents a fight."

[Djanik]

"In my case, the morals give me reason to shoot."

Djanik clasped his right hand, looking at his fist.

"Holding back, no matter how much I might care about my enemies... I won't let my people die because I was weak."

[Daunt]

"We're not that different then, when sweet talk is stripped away." Daunt chuckled, rising, dusting of the sand off his tattooed dark physique. "It was good talking to you, Djanik. You confirm my good impression of the Pantorans and the Chiss."

[Djanik]

"Heh, I appreciate that Daunt, though I think Pantorans might disappoint your ethics..."

He rose as well, dusting himself off.

"Mainline Pantoran culture is mainly pacifist, though there has always been a militant subculture - concerned with being too trusting of the galactic core."

Glancing toward Rygor, he added, "I suspect that sub-culture may be gaining adherents, in this brave new galaxy the Empire is creating."

[Daunt]

"Which is good. Violent times call for violent dispositions." He stretched. "Good hunting in those dogfights of yours."

[Djanik]

"And you, when you find yourself fighting the Empire or these more troublesome criminals who have moved in... I pray your fury outmatches theirs."

A little two finger salute.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I need a shower. Sand's the worst... get's everywhere and itches like mad."

Scratching at his back, he turned toward the barracks.

/exit

[Daunt]

"Sand doesn't bother me." Daunt grunted, and returned to the water.

/scene