Worn leather boots echoed neatly on cantina floors, and Kit let his eyes wander over the other lifeforms throughout the public area. The wanderer often found himself in places such as this; some were seedy and rough around the edges, others more high-class, scaled far off the ground with bright paned windows and extravagancies.
Kit had to admit that he tended to like those in the middle-ground a hell of a lot more. Perching himself on the stool beside a humanoid creature, who clearly at the very least spoke Standard, Kit cleared his throat and raised a hand to a woman making her way around the cantina, bringing drinks and grub for whomever waved her on. She either sensed what a man like him wanted, or really didn’t care about what he actually wanted, as she seemed to continue on to the next person.
“It’s unfortunate then, that you’ve now got it.” Kit gave the humanoid creature a nod, flicking molasses-hued eyes at her face, then back down to his gloved hands, removing the leather from his fingers and placing them in his vest pocket.
“At the very least, let us not be strangers,” He continued, observing, searching. “Kiri’n.” A now gloveless hand held out as a peace offering, “A pleasure.”
Immediately, Bastila found her irritation rising. Growing up in the Jedi temple on Dantooine, there was a certain type of person that she was used to. Jedi Masters, calm and wise, Jedi Knights, courageous and heroic, Jedi Padawans, studious and dedicated. It was only when Malak and Revan had turned their sabers against the Republic, and Bastila’s particular skills had become necessary on the front lines, that she began to gain experience with other sorts.
Of course, there were those who were perfectly noble outside of the Order, but there were others who were... less so. But, she supposed, wasn’t that exactly why she had come here? For an escape?
With a soft breath out, she looked over at him. She supposed she wouldn’t have thought him particularly unhandsome, if that had been the sort of thing that mattered to her. Perhaps spending some time socialising wouldn’t be the worst use of her time.
“...Bastila.” She finally said, accepting his hand. Her name meant nothing in this time. There was no harm in sharing it. “Do you make a habit of approaching strangers like this?”