Jerrod’s tone did not bother the Jedi Master, in fact he actually smiled a bit when Jerrod spoke; it reminded Raztlain a bit of himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Jerrod Corbo, I have been looking for you for several hours now. As far as how I can help you? Let’s just say that I understand you, far better than most ever could.”

That Corbo was favoring his right ankle was clear, though it didn’t seem a major injury Alies could tell that it was bothering the youth noticeably. “If you will allow it, I can help ease the pain in your ankle,” he said in an obvious attempt to get the boy’s attention.

“And no, thank you. That won’t be… necessary…” he added when the attention was (thankfully) changed to his injury. Not that it bothered him much. Quite the contrary. He’d probably wobble for a good 15 minutes, but it wasn’t as bad as it appeared. Indeed, to prove his stubborness, he pushed himself off the wall and attempted to move toward the man. “I’ve suffered worst at paumeball. Used to be a pro before… well, before stuff came up. So tell me, Raztlain Alies… Who exactly are you?”. He wasn’t that stupid, really. A name only went so far when it served to identify as person.

He decided on a direct answer and hoped for the best. “I am Jedi; there is little more to tell.”

And as the answer to his question was given, what little color his pale face retained vanished, leaving him with a rather dumb look as though he hadn’t understood what had been said. But he had. Oh that he had. “I see” was all he said on a tone rather devoid of any emotions while thoughts ran through his mind as he processed this new information (most of them negative). So this man probably knew about the incident at the concert… his fit at apartment… and his killing of a… well, not so innocent alien. The fact remained that he had killed him. That was what, murder at the 2nd degree? Manslaughter? Judging him solely by his appearance, Jerrod would probably estimate that the Jedi before him had done some shady things of his own in the past, but such assumptions could end up being entirely wrong. The man might understand his situation, but there was also the possibility that he was merely here to apprehend him? If this was the case, going silently would have been the smart move. But Jerrod wasn’t thinking all too well.

For the first time since his early teenage-hood, something felt different inside of him. The blazing inferno, rather than running rampant, felt as though it had settled. Settled and waited. As though a wall of flames standing still, it awaited further instructions, awaited its directions. Although he had no idea how he managed it, Jerrod clumsily sent forth a telepathic surge at Raztlain in an attempt to stun him. The psychic bolt sent, he quickly drew his blaster and pressed the trigger, shooting randomly over his shoulder as he attempted to run away He muffled his groans of pain and annoyance as his ankle throbbed and risked giving away with every step he took. His determination at not being caught and punished for what he believed was not his fault was the only thing that supported him despite the thoughts of his own idiocy coursing through his head. He was too well aware of having sealed his fate. He didn’t expect being able to take more than another ten steps, either his own body or the no doubt angry Jedi stopping him.

Remaining cool under pressure was definitely not his forte.

He too heaved a sigh, but one of despair as he heard the slow footsteps behind him. How foolish, how utterly stupid he had been. It would take more than a weak psi-bolt and a few wildly fired shots to make a Jedi give up chase. And in his state, he wouldn’t have gotten far in the first place. He was just scared, really. Scared of this power inside him that had plagued him since teenagehood. Scared of being tried for murder and sent to rot in jail. Scared of the talks in the Senate that had been so anti-Jedi recently. The Jedi had never been part of his life, but now...

“You’re here to take me in? Fine...” he said dejectedly, dropping the blaster to the ground and letting his hands hang beside him. And all the while, he just kept looking at the bleak, grimy walls ahead. “I guess I’ll give the boys some publicity... There’s no news like bad news, right?” he added on the same glum tone, attempting to give himself something to laugh at. A little humor in a dark time.

Jerrod swallowed hard as the Jedi confirmed that he should probably be brought to authorities. But he couldn’t agree more: no one was above the law... not even him. But something seemed to stir in Raztlain as he had his afterthought. The lights seemed to flash in different colours and patterns in Jerrod’s peripheral vision, bringing to his attention the shift the other man was feeling. Slowly, gently, with one hand in the air in surrender, Jerrod bent down to pick up his blaster to place back in its holster. That done, he turned around and walked/hobbled towards Raztlain, still avoiding his gaze. As he levelled with him, he slowed down to wait for him to start on his way as well. And as he progressed, he broke the silence with the recounting of his tale.

But he didn’t merely confine himself to the Aqualish attack. As though seeking to explain himself and decrease the severity of the situation, Jerrod went far back in the past to his teenage years to talk about what he now knew to be the growth of the Force within him and its effects throughout the years. He explained his attempts at numbing it out of his system, trying in vain to not salivate as he thought of the different drugs he took. He could sure go for some right now...

The tale then turned to last night’s events, how a seemingly normal concert had turned into a frenzied melee and that he felt it was all his fault. Then the pain reaching an apex in his apartment, the subsequent fit and the quasi-destruction of his living room. His pace slowed down as he reached the part of the Aqualish, however. He had been caught off guard, ambushed in the night after a traumatic experience.“I tried to send him on his way, but he really wanted my credits. Not that I had any... So he got really angry. Then again, they’re always angry. And he tried to shoot me. But I don’t know... It’s like I could anticipate where he’d try to shoot, so I dodged. So he got even angrier, shot again, I dodged... So he just came at me to finish me by hand. But I struggled. And... I could hear him shouting. In my head. And rather than being scared, I got, well, I got angry like him. I think I wanted him as dead as he wanted me to snuff it. And before I knew, he was flung against the opposite wall and fell limply on the street... his skull was cracked. There was blood... I freaked out, and... well, you know the rest, I’m sure.” And as he ended his tale, he felt as forlorn as when he had started it.

Alies listened as the youth spilled his story. Being an insightful man it was easy to see that Corbo was terrified, of his fate and of his powers. That too was easy to understand; Raztlain himself, being brought up (so to speak) by the Jedi, still had had days where he feared himself and his abilities, and where they would lead him. The situations were different; Alies had feared the Sith finding and murdering him, Corbo had to fear what the New Republic would do to him once they discovered his abilities.

The boy perhaps also feared what would happen to him if he were brought before the authorities. In these uncertain times he would likely be used as an example (by those who sought Force User registration) of what happened around people that could touch the Force. For that Raztlain feared as well.

Alies nodded in all the places where the story coincided with his inspection, frowned where it did not, and chuckled when Corbo explained the emotions of all Aqualish. “They are that,” he commented quietly. Hearing the story he felt that he could not in good conscious bring the boy to the law, it was wrong, he knew, but perhaps wrong in a different way to do so.

He stopped and turned to the youth. “Would you consent to reside with me for a few days while I consult the head of my Order?” He asked.

Yet if he felt that the telling his story didn’t have the same impact, that didn’t mean that it helped ease his mind. As he walked and talked, something in him seemed to relax. It wasas though he was trusting the stranger more and more. Jerrod couldn’t help but smirk weakly as Raztlain chuckled at his Aqualish comment. “I mean, why are they so bloody angry? Even some reactionary Imperialists are more pleasant, it seems” he said matter-of-factly. But no sooner had he uttered the remark that his mind drifted to the body he had left in the alleyway. And as he thought about it, the notion of jail quickly followed. Ugh.

His mood immediately becoming more downcast again, he was taken rather by surprise when Raztlain offered him shelter rather than presenting him to the law. “I’m sorry. You... mean?...” Perplexed, he quickly took to infer that he would not be brought to a constabulary. And like the flicker of a flame, hope sparked into him. “Erm... Yeah. Sure? I mean, thank you?”. Of course, he’d have to contact the boys as soon as he’d arrive to destination. He didn’t know what he’d tell them, but hopefully they wouldn’t ask too many questions. Did this mean the end of WarpDrive? Oh, curse this Force that was wreaking havoc on his life!

And as he walked with Raztlain to destination unknown, he hoped against all odds he had any medication he could help himself to. Either that or that there was some miracle Jedi rehab technique that would take only a few hours...

His nervousness subsiding, he found a seat and settled himself down as Raztlain offered him meagre sustenance, thanking him for it (but otherwise remaining silent before or after he uttered the few words). That too was a long way from what the guys and him ate. Not that their diet was particularly healthy or extravagant... It consisted mostly of take-out and fast food. He expected the band would rake in more money as their fanbase grew across the Core. The more money they’d make, the better their lifestyles would become. And more money also meant more access to exotic and esoteric spices or drugs.

Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d truly need them again. Of course, he was addicted and craved whatever medication or drugs he could get his hands on, but he had now only just realized that the usual sensations he had been feeling since teenagehood had vanished. Well, mostly vanished. Although the colours and lights still flashed before his eyes, he felt that if he could concentrate enough, there was a pattern hidden within them. Not that he knew what that pattern was or meant. And the raging inferno usually “ablaze” within him which caused his aches and pains seemed to have been transformed into a more subdued thing. He figured the outbursts of the past day had expended the repressed build-up. Would he want to return into the same cycle then?

As he sipped the flat beverage and nibbled on the bland food, he was far too well aware that Razltain was preparing to contact someone in regards to himself and recent activities. And though he tried to put some distance between them, Jerrod couldn’t help but crane his neck to try and get a better view and hearing. He couldn’t see or hear much anyways, but he began sweating again, feeling quite nervous once more. Had he done the right thing by following him here? What was going on? What would happen to him?

He had gone out only to purchase the necessities of life, and that only for hygiene. Their dining consisted of delivered food, none of which tasted particularly pleasant. He had ben somewhat of a hermit as well, not playing the host very well as he spent most of his time shut in his bedroom meditating on what method would be best for the pair. He had, however, done a great deal to make the living experience as good as he could. He had cleaned, first of all, and bought enough pillows and blanket to make a comfortable pallet for Jerrod; he could only hope it was good enough, for it was the best he could do in the current situation.

Still, having no response from Yavin was beginning to toll on him and today his time – which should have been spent in meditation – was spent pacing the floor in the living area. It was weighing on his mind more and more that it was time to leave Coruscant and naturally he was beginning to think he’d failed by not simply doing so the day he found the boy. Trying to live as close to the law as one could seemed to bring him short more oft than not.

He could feel the youth’s eyes on him as he paced and chewed what was left of his left thumbnail, that too was making him edgy; when people began relying on him to make their decisions he became anxious. Finally he stopped just in front of Corbo and, giving him a level stare, spoke for the first time that day.

“Have you anything that needs doing, anyone with whom you need to speak, or anything that must be retrieved before we leave?” He asked.