They are able to retrieve their belongings and the majority of their deposit with a minimum of fuss. The bundle is only slightly awkward to carry around as they look for a room to rent. Eventually, they find one in a district which is unlikely to be troubled by the appearance of Sith or military.

"We can afford, um, three days here, plus food."

"Oh, really? That's not bad, I thought it'd be a night and maybe dinner. We can work with that."

"It's one room, plus a 'fresher barely big enough to stand in. I'm assuming we don't actually want to spend any time in here aside from sleeping."

"Probably not. Though the refresher'll be nice, even if it's tiny."

"Yeah. So we go back to that cantina now?"

Revan considers that cantina versus others...

That cantina seems best, he thinks. Save the others for if they get into trouble with this one, have them less recognizable in places.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay."

Ana will hold hands again on the way back, now that they are no longer burdened by a suit of Sith armor.

Well, that's fine by Revan. Also: kind of cute. They should probably actually talk about, well, this, but honestly Revan doesn't really think now's the time. It's nice, they're in the middle of a crisis, they both have ample reason to freak out a bit, they are allowed to indulge in the hedonistic urges of holding hands.

How's the cantina look now?

More crowded. Livelier.

There's a band in the corner, playing a style of music he can recognize. Some things never change.

There are few things more comforting than familiarity. He can just sort of pretend that it is not three hundred years in the future and everyone he ever loved is probably dead, and he's just - himself. Trying to get off of this planet, like he's tried to get off of others with less resources and less of a plan.

Does anyone here look talkative and potentially helpful?

There's a man at the bar with a white, sparking drink talking starship maintenance with a droid that has a cup of something that is probably oil in front of it.

Wait, what, a droid is being served at a cantina? Revan's thrilled and surprised and how many other droids are in here he would like to know right now.

... Possibly so he can make an excuse about a pet project of his being repairing really old droids and insinuating himself into the conversation that way, but details. Droids being served! It's cool, Revan's really excited!

There don't seem to be any other droids here. Possibly they have a special relationship with the owner?

Possibly! Well, that's convenient. He can start figuring out how to make his entrance, then.

When there's a lull in conversation between the droid and the spacer, he retrieves the relevant parts of HK-47 from his jacket pocket and heads over.

"Excuse me," says Revan, addressing them both, "You seem to know a lot about starship maintenance, so I bet you've seen a lot of weird technology in your travels. Have either of you seen any sort of system that would be compatible with these old HK parts I found?"

"You... found HK parts?" The spacer raises an eyebrow.

"That is highly unlikely," says the droid. "The last known HK unit was destroyed more than two hundred years ago."

.... Revan might just have made a horrible, horrible mistake, but he might as well own it.

He displays the HK parts in question.

"Was it really? Wow, I didn't know they were so important. Might need to find a collector, then, sell them for credits." Over his dead body, but the character he's playing wouldn't feel so affectionate about some bits of tech. "Are these the real deal, or...?"

"One moment." The droid runs a scan. "...these are genuine, yes. Behavior module and memory core, HK-47 model."

The spacer whistles a low note and takes a sip of his drink. "Where'd you say you found those again?"

"I didn't. Some weird back-alley peddler said they were HK unit parts and I was curious and they weren't explosive or bugged, so I bought 'em. Apparently for a steal. Couldn't name the guy, but I could find you the street if you want it, but the guy's long gone I bet."

"Right, the old unlicensed street peddler." He clearly doesn't believe a word Revan is saying. "You'll want to be careful with them on Kaas, friend. The Imperials come down like hell on anyone they suspect of not paying the proper taxes."

Revan wasn't expecting that to be believed.

"Well if they show me the proper forms I will be perfectly happy to pay all of the required taxes," says Revan lightly. "But somehow I don't think they're the type. Thanks, I'll watch it, I'm a bit new to this planet." He crinkles his nose a bit. "I don't like it."

"Not many do. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure. I'd return the favor, but I'm a bit short on credits at the moment." He sits down!

The spacer beckons the bartender over.

"What brings you to this part of the galaxy?"

"In summary, a mix of bad luck and bad choices. There was a guy that was going to do some, uh, let's go with nasty stuff, I got it into my head that it was my job to stop him, didn't manage it, it ended badly until my wife," he points to Ana, "came and saved me..." He waves a hand. "Very dramatic, don't want to do it again. Maybe I'll take up farming."

"Must be nice, to have a wife that can bail you out like that. This bucket of bolts couldn't bail me out of a puddle."

The droid says something rude in an obscure Evocii dialect.