The figure on the floor was the most awkward being Truz had ever seen. He was covered in layers of black robes, one after another, and had a black cloak with a black hood over all of it. His dark, grayish snout protruded from his face down onto his chest, and over his eyes he wore thick goggles. On the rubbery skin of his scalp, sharp hairs stood out like grass. He was making snoring wheezes through his proboscis.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Truz was growing tired of Coruscant already, and needed no more drama before his chance to rest. There was nothing he would do about it now, though.

Waking, the black robed figure shook his head with a sequence of jerks of the neck. Then, when he focused his goggle-covered eyes forward, he realized he had been found out. He planted his hands urgently on the ground and propelled himself to his feet. Standing, he put his arms up, "Look, I thought the guy who lived here was dead," he protested. His voice was high pitched and nasal, as he spoke through his large snout.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? I live here…" Truz was confused. He didn't realize if he had encountered a murderer or a homeless person. He put his hand over his blaster, with a motive to intimidate more than to defend.

The figure was gesturing both timidness and slyness in his posture and hand motions. He said, "Look, I have no place to go. I was hiding out in here since the room became vacant. I knew somebody would eventually come, and you did, but I don't have enough time tonight to find a new room. I'm tired and hungry, and you look tired too. How about we just sleep this night in here, and I'll leave you be tomorrow."

Truz almost agreed, but then caught himself. In his mind his voice chimed, "No bounty hunter helps those in need!" He pulled out his blaster, and comfortably pointed it at waist level towards the figure. "Get out, or I will fry you! I'm not a charity!"

"Pal, look, everybody has blasters. You fry me, then the next guy comes in, before you know it the alley downstairs has bodies laying around and stormtroopers are walking over them. You can avoid a big ordeal by just letting me sleep in the corner tonight, and before you wake up I'll be gone and you won't see me again. I'm not asking for your credits, or your help. Just a little space to sleep, alright? I didn't mean anything by coming in here."

Truz was tired and didn't want to argue, so he agreed. "Good idea," the person said, and walked over to the opposite corner from Truz'. Truz laid down against the wall, as if sitting up, and faced the corner so that he could try to sleep, but fear from the day's occurrences kept him up. Meanwhile, the man in the other corner was already halfway asleep.

"Who are you?" Truz asked under his breath, testing if the person was awake. He got an answer in a strange, tired wheezy voice, "I'm Shivron. A Kubaz from Kubindi. Came here as an art smuggler; but it took one run-in with the bucketheads to put my entire business down. Now I scavenge vacant apartments and alleys to survive. It's what this planet does to you, I swear. Look, thanks for the night. I appreciate it. Its not like I'm human and can go get sympathy from the government offices. This is about the best stuff that happens to me: indoor sleeping."

Truz began looking at Shivron from the corner of his eye, and thinking about what Sayla had told him, about the state of non-humans on Coruscant, about the revolts on Iridonia, about the Empire. He began to think of what they would do to him. He never thought he had anything that could be taken, until he saw Shuzz. Now he knew what could happen if he played his Sabacc cards wrongly.

Truz eventually woke up. Shivron was gone, as he had promised. Truz hoped he would see him again. The night was a strange encounter.