Koegr Var was a man to be gauged in three glances. The first glance would see an average-sized human in black combat boots and dark blue pants. That glance would also see bright blue hair, most likely dyed, and a bright red cape hanging from his shoulders. From the way he subconsciously ran a hand along the undoubtedly expensive fabric, you could tell he was intensively proud of it. Most likely, you would first see the stormtrooper chestplate, covered in polished chromium, which shone brightly in the Coruscanti sun. This first glance would make you smile, may even make you giggle. After all, he did look a little garish.

The second glance would halt the giggle, would slowly drain your smile, though. The second glance would reveal that the right half of his jaw was missing, replaced with metal. Scars beside it showed signs of a blaster shot. The second glance would show gauntlets on his hands, heavily modified from their original imperial design. That glance would show still the holster on his left hip, and the pistol that no one could place, for no one had seen one like it before. The second glance turned the garish man into a dangerous one.

Now for the third glance. More of a stare, if you are still standing there. If you haven't fled at what you have seen in the second glance. Most likely you are still looking at the pistol, and you notice it isn't a blaster, but a strange type of slug thrower, and if you know these things, you see the little details that separate a high quality, one of a kind masterpiece from the mass-produced throwaway guns that you find on most thugs. Next, you find yourself staring into the shadow of his cape, his lean torso. You see pouches and pockets, a possible gas mask, at least one knife. A man who is ready. If this hasn't scared you, you notice his attitude. A relaxed vigilance, watchful yet at ease. A man fully confident in himself and what he does, and nothing truly seems to scare him.

Finally, it dawns on you your glances have been noticed, and he has been watching you as well. The flicker of amusement on his lips shows amusement at the attention, for he has already measured you and discounted you as a threat, despite the knife in your pocket.

You run.