Class: Sith Inquisitor

When: Episode I, before Alderaan

"Sith."

"Pirate."

Denravi steps away from the practice dummy as Revel casually walks into the training room, wearing loose workout clothes. He nods once before standing in front of the weapons rack. Expecting him to pick up his usual ranged weapon, she raises an eyebrow as he grabs a practice saber.

"Here," he says, throwing the weapon towards her. Denravi lets the weapon land at her feet, not even attempting to catch it as he takes another practice saber from the rack.

"I beg your pardon?"

Revel gives her a grin. "You plan on taking me with you when we hit Alderaan?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I had considered it, yes," Denravi admits. Even with just the brief time they fought together on Tatooine, she realizes he's a better fit for her style than Khem Val. The Dashade wouldn't like it, but she finds she didn't particularly care.

"Then we have work to do," Revel says. He points at the practice saber at her feet with his own saber. "Let's go."

"And I'm supposed to take pointers from you?" she asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "You're a ranged fighter."

"You've got potential, Sith," Revel says, ignoring her words. Denravi's hands curl into fists. She does not like being ignored. "You lack subtlety. You sneak up on someone, stab them in the back and bludgeon them to death."

"I would have thought by now you'd realize I prefer the direct approach," Denravi says, letting her eyes linger on the curve of his shoulders. "It's worked so far."

"I've noticed," he says with a chuckle. "But we dealt with unorganized mercs on Nar Shaddaa and Tatooine." He reaches behind him, stretching his shoulders. "Alderaan? They've got professionals there. An army. Republic will be there, maybe even Jedi. You've got to improve."

"And you expect to be the one to improve me?" Denravi asks, surprised how much the thought appeals to her.

"Wasn't always a pirate, you know," Revel says with a shrug.

"Because I'm sure you had so many opportunities fighting for Moneyland," she snaps back, furious at her need to know more. He's a damn space pirate and she is Sith. Who he is shouldn't concern her one bit. Yet she senses the layers and tangles inside him and wants more.

He turns the saber lazily in his hand, clearly showing experience with the weapon. "Someone had to protect the money."

With an exaggerated sigh, Denravi picks up the practice saber at her feet. "What do you need me to do?" she says, putting a pout into her voice.

"I'm just going to stand here," Revel says. "Attack me like anyone else." He pauses and looks at her hands. "Just none of that fancy schmancy lightning, okay?"

"That fancy schmancy lightning keeps me alive," Denravi says, putting a hand on her hip.

"Yeah, and how often does it wear you out, Sith?" he asks. "How many times have you had to rely on melee because you can't sustain the Force?"

More often than she cares to admit. Bloody Zash. The woman should be honing Denravi's skills instead of sending her on errands across the galaxy, doing her dirty work. There is so much Denravi doesn't know about the Sith way of life. She doesn't like having to play catch up all the time.

At her silence, he snorts. "That's what I thought," he says, turning his back to her. "Now attack me."

She took a breath and let the Force conceal her. She takes a step forward and prepares to attack when Revel says, "Have you tested the weapon yet? Tried a move or two? Check the balance?"

"No," Denravi says without thinking. But instead of doing any of those things, she goes on the offensive, starting with a Maul. The practice saber hits Revel square in the back.

He doesn't hesitate, turning on his heel, parrying her blade. He lunges, but Denravi is faster and moves out of the way, causing him to become slightly unbalanced. She takes advantage and swings her saber low and behind his knees. The move topples him to the ground. "Good one," he grunts as he stands up. He holds up a hand. "That wasn't a Sith move. I know Sith moves. Where'd you learn that?"

Denravi looks down at the floor, trying to catch her breath. She knew this was bound to come up sooner or later. "It was Chiss, actually." His brow furrows, but he says nothing. She feels put on the defensive, and she doesn't like it. "Yes, I'm not Chiss, but I grew up on Csilla. I picked up a thing or two before I became Force sensitive."

"Slave?" Revel asks softly. She looks at him sharply and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Been to Csilla a few times. Only other humans I saw there were all slaves."

"Yes, I was a slave," Denravi says. Her voice is clear and she hopes he understands she doesn't want one ounce of sympathy.

"How'd you get out?" Revel asks curiously.

"Does it matter?" Denravi spats. She makes point of not looking at him and instead practices a Thrash at an imaginary opponent. "I am Sith." He's still looking at her, head tilted and it's disconcerting, thinking he might be as curious about her as she is him. She relents, but only in hopes he might reveal a bit about his past, she tells herself. "Fine. I realized how to make myself disappear at a young age. My master learned of it and I killed him. Turns out a Sith was visiting the house, and wouldn't let the family kill me in response and sent me to Korriban instead."

"Happy ending, then," Revel says, with a nod of his head. "Not every story ends up with one."

She thinks of his story, becoming a pirate and then having to kill every single member of his crew. About as far as a happy ending as one could get. Well, he's part of her crew now. They'll write a new story. But for now, they've shared enough. "Are we here to gossip or practice?"

He grins, and the tattoo around his eye crinkles, causing her to wonder if he's inked anywhere else. "And you thought you didn't want to learn."