Cambrist's face, too, perhaps for this occasion, was both long and proud. He frowned at Park for a moment as if trying to discern everything about the man, his personality, and his history simply from his demeanor. It was a noble habit; that is, noble in lineage, not in virtue. "Mr. Park," he said. His voice was bland, and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It was the voice of a man who valued his time and had no masochistic desire to have it wasted. "I will not detain you for long, for I would hope that a man such as yourself would be busy with important matters." Leave it to Cambrist to insult a man for accepting his invitation. "As it is," he went on, "I've come into possession of some information of a sensitive nature, and for reasons of my own I believe you're the man to give it to."

The Senator manipulated a control on his desk and gestured for Park to direct his attention to a holoscreen on the wall as it displayed his droid's brief conversation with the informant, Bryce Routhe. The viewport tinted accordingly, to dim the room. When the holo was finished and the light came back into the office, Cambrist was wearing a distasteful expression--as if he'd just smelled something unpleasant. He glanced back to Park. "There it is," he said. "The man contacted me about a supposed 'threat to the galaxy.' You'll find the details of that exchange have been mailed to you. As you can see from the holo, however, the man was either drunk, or else his nerve or, rather, his lack thereof seemed to upset his bowels, and he didn't say much of any use."

He leaned back and shrugged. He'd left quite a bit unsaid, such as why he would give this information to Charlie Park and, moreover, what he expected him to do with it. The way the Senator made light of it in so cavalier a manner suggested that he didn't truly care about it as much as one might expect. At least, not for the reasons one might expect. However, Cambrist prided himself on being "the only honest Senator," and if asked, he would surely answer Park candidly. Though it may not be what the Jedi Master and NRI operative wished to hear.

He leaned back in his vast, omnipresent chair. His expression was still bland, but with a hint of malicious delight in his eyes. "I could have given it to Analysis," he said, as if reflecting on his choice of lunch, "That is what you will do, of course. As you should. But you know as well as I do that Analysis will simply file it away. It is, after all, the inane ramblings of some manic, paranoid man. Or is it? The Jedi won't think so. Thus, I supposed that you, a Jedi and a man of action—odd for a supposed bureaucrat, incidentally—would want, nay, need to provide it directly to the Jedi as well. With the consent of Intelligence, of course."

"And to be honest," he leaned forward now, hunching over his desk as he rested his elbows upon it, his hands clasped before him. His stern, unwavering stare would make anyone uncomfortable. "I wanted to introduce a bit of moral ambiguity into your mind, Mr. Park. Surely you know you're not like the other Jedi. You're more pragmatic. Far more pragmatic. What you do for the Republic is commendable, as long as you are doing it for the Republic and not for the Jedi. This, we will see. For now that you have this information, you own it—because of your unique position, it is your name and reputation that will be associated with whatever the Jedi choose to do with it."

"The question is," he raised an eyebrow, "Do you trust the Jedi to do the right thing with it? The legal thing?"

He leaned back once again, the air in the office seeming almost lighter as he did so. "Think about it," he said, pleasantly. "Also, please say hello to General Cracken for me. Although I make a point of saying hello to him whenever I hear a tell tale 'click' on my comm line. I will never know what it is he finds so interesting in my personal conversations. If there is nothing further, then I bid you good day."