Zereth watched him go, red eyes tracking the red head until he was out of sight. He wanted to follow, wanted to wrap the force around himself like a blanket and steal into the casino to make sure that things were as Michael said. He wanted to find even just one transgression for him to avenge, so that he could shatter this glass castle and let the galaxy see it's ugliness through uninhibited eyes. This was a bastion of the Empire, after all. Surely if he looked hard enough he would find some sin to burn away.

But Michael was right, and he had already been here too long. The Empire would not remain blind forever, and eventually they would catch on to his presence and send the Imperial Knights to come for him. He had yet to meet them in combat, preferring to leave long before they arrived, and he would be lying if he said he did not wish to fight them, to face such a challenge of clashing blades and ideology. Perhaps they could be swayed from their pedestals. He imagined they were not all bad. Still, that was for another time.

Stealing himself he stole back into the concourse, back to the transit center where he booked his return flight that would take him round about back to home. He looked forward to the long trip. It would give him time to meditate and think.