Learning to Live (COMPLETE)

8.8.3

The next day, Ahsoka brought up the subject with Rya, Leslie, and Jackson as soon as she got to work. She made sure to get there early so they could talk before they had to open up shop and man the lobby. She wanted to see if anyone knew information about this gang.

Jackson, although he was very interested, was not much help. "Did they say where they got the armor from?"

"What? No, I didn't ask. I was a little more concerned about Tallie."

"Who is Tallie?"

"The girl, remember? That's how I found this gang."

Rya rummaged a cabinet for disinfectant wipes for the counter. "Which level was it again? 10..."

"10-4," Leslie finished. "Honestly, I don't know why you care so much. Gangs are all over the Lower Levels, Tano."

Ahsoka resisted rolling her eyes. "I know. I've fought a couple of them. They seem to like picking on people, which is why I'm curious about this one. They didn't seem to fit the mold."

"Life is a lot easier if you just steer clear of all of them," Leslie insisted. "Why are you always picking fights with people?"

"I don't start them!"

Leslie wasn't convinced. "Sure you didn't."

The Togruta looked to Rya and Jackson for help, but they only shrugged their shoulders. Thanks, guys, Ahsoka thought. "Was I just supposed to let the thugs beat her up, then?"

"I'm just saying, you could have called the feds. Let them deal with it."

Ahsoka snorted. "Tallie would have been dead by then."

Leslie decided it wasn't worth it to argue with that particular point, and remained silent. Ahsoka hoped she hadn't brushed a nerve with her, but Leslie tended to not like violence in general, so she had no idea. Rya, who was wiping down chairs now, decided to change the subject. "Did they have a symbol or something? Like on their armor, or whatnot?"

Nodding, Ahsoka tore off a piece of receipt paper and grabbed a pen. She did her best to recreate the mark on Tawnya's shoulder pad, although it didn't quite do it justice. She held it up so the others could see.

The other three squinted at the sketch, but no recognition crossed their faces. "Yeah," Jackson admitted, "I've never seen that before. I don't go down to 10-4."

Walking back to the workshop in defeat, Ahsoka stared at her own drawing and tried to find a hidden meaning in the pen strokes. Maybe the design had a message or a clue woven into the markings. If it did, though, Ahsoka couldn't tell. It wasn't anything like the Jedi or Sith runes she had become so familiar with.

Nox was the only one in the shop when she arrived. This no longer surprised Ahsoka; he liked to come in during 'ungodly hours,' whatever that meant, to work. He was always here before anyone else and left before lunch every day. No one knew where he went or what he did, only that he didn't talk about it.

It wasn't hard to tell that he didn't feel comfortable in social settings. The few times Ahsoka had spoken to him one-on-one, their conversation had been friendly and pleasant, but no other words had been exchanged. This didn't seem to bother anyone else, but it piqued Ahsoka's interest.

He was working on a speeder when she walked past. As he looked up at her, she folded the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. "Morning," she greeted him, and he waved the monkey wrench in his hand at her.

"Hi," he responded, turning back to his work. "You don't come...come this early."

"Not normally, no." She walked behind him and watched him repair the fuel tank. "How long have you been working on this?"