"Bellamy." Glasya nodded in greeting, then stepped lightly inside.
A cursory glance over the house revealed it for the transitory thing it was: there was little to indicate its owner felt particularly settled in this place, and less to imply that Naboo wanted him to feel so. It provided the necessities, but in the most Spartan of ways; there were no little luxuries here, no comforts to make the newcomers feel most at home. Glasya was unsurprised. So like the New Republic, to reap the good will of the galaxy by housing refugees, while concealing the fact that what aid they offered was mediocre at best.
But for the young man's part, Glasya saw at once the promise that Issan had found in him. Behind the glint of cautious curiosity in his eye was a grim determination, a resolve that Glasya knew could be put to great use in the right hands. In his hands. He smiled warmly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. Issan spoke well of you."