Gannayev wanders into Nar Shaddaa and meets Occlus
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"Ah. And how long do you plan to stay?"

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"I hadn't decided yet. I don't suppose you have an opinion?"

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"I dislike the..." he pauses, to consider the appropriate word. "Ambience of this place so far. Too tacky, structured, and dead, crowded together in a chaotic inescapable crawl. But it is new and alien, and I'll tolerate it for now. Though that might change if you expect me to endure large crowds."

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"I avoid crowds as much as possible, myself. What sorts of places do you like?"

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"What a difficult question to succinctly answer," says Gann, a little wryly. "After all, there are many different kinds of places that I like, for many different reasons. I can answer, if you like, but I warn you that I might wax philosophical."

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"I think I might enjoy hearing that." Her voice has a teasing lilt.

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He smiles, a little. Not the dazzling, flattering smile of before, but something - more subtle. Quieter.

"Very well. I enjoy the welcoming familiarity of a familiar forest, the peaceful tranquility of birdsong on the wind and the warm heat of the sun upon my skin, the joy and freedom of being far, far from anyone that might disturb it. I enjoy the majesty of monuments of those long dead - the ones still lived in, filled with overawed tourists staring wide eyed at the vision of a departed genius, but mostly the ones that have been abandoned, lost to time. Where all of the clever tricks and expensive trappings they used to cover all of their mistakes have fallen away, and all you're left with is the stark, brutally honest bones of whatever they'd made. Looking at all that was and seeing traces of what the architect envisioned, building half on supposition and half on imagination until it grows taller than whatever it had been when it was whole. I enjoy places where my talent and wit aren't wasted, where I can speak and smile and see the waves they leave on those that watch and listen. I enjoy places where I can watch, speak, and walk freely, and learn whatever crosses my attention."

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"As ever, you fail to disappoint, poet. I know a few locations you might appreciate. As it happens, I am something of an archaeologist. When I'm not busy murdering or," she licks her lips, "maiming."

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Gannayev snorts, amused. "Are those your only diversions from archaeology? There is so much more to life than maiming!"

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"Is that so?"

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There's the dazzling smile again.

"Oh, certainly. If you like, I could show you."

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"Such an extraordinary claim surely bears... testing."

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"It would hardly be fair to you to make unverifiable extraordinary claims."

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"Fairness is not a fundamental property of the universe."

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"I do not hold myself to the standards of the fundamental properties of the universe."

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"So you're concerned about being fair to me? I'm touched."

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"I can hardly say I'm bound by the desire to be fair to anyone in particular," he deflects, lightly, "but I don't see why I shouldn't indulge when I feel like it."

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"Life without indulgences would hardly be worth living."

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"It would certainly grow very tiresome very quickly."

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"Fairness is not a thing I indulge in very often. Do you find it... enjoyable?"

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"It is occasionally amusing to catch people unawares. I hardly seem the type, after all. With typical people, I can hardly say it pays off. With spirits, they are more inclined to repay fair with fair, with none of the unspoken bindings that so often come along with favors. I prefer dealing with them."

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"Your spirits are different from mine, I think."

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"Yes. Which is just as well. It would be so very disappointing if all the multiverse worked on the same set of rules."

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"Quite. Though some things seem constant. You appear passably human, at least."

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"Half. As I can tell, humans match up. Basic doesn't have a word for my mother's species, so I think not everything. 'Hag' is the closest available."

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