Glasya pushed off from the bar. His boots scuffed on the flagstones beneath his feet.
"That's not free, you know," the woman said. She reached one clawed hand out, grabbing at his empty cup when he dropped it. Her tone softened at the sharp clink of credits falling on the countertop. "And a good day to you, too. Always such a pleasure." She made a rude gesture at his back as he turned away from her.
It was a trap, Glasya knew. Though he could not feel the Force of her, he could feel the void she made in it: an unpresence, unsettling and intensely interesting. Here was something he had yet to experience. He would know what it meant, at least in part, even if it meant walking right into whatever she had planned.
He paused near the entry to the alleyway down which she had departed. Again he felt that emptiness that marked the place she should have been. If the Force could not see her, how could he? His lips thinned, their corners drawing down into the beginning of a frown.
A young man walked by, of similar height and build to Glasya himself. Glasya reached out to him, touching the man's mind with his own. The man stopped mid-stride, pausing to take in Glasya's unspoken orders. Then he raised his hood, and strode down into the alley, toward the woman hidden there. Glasya watched from a distance, shrouding himself from the minds of those around them. All that remained was to watch.