The waitress told Fel to calm down. Was she really that nervous? Without removing her hood, Fel smiled at the girl.<br/><br/>"Yes, ma'am. All good."<br/><br/>She would have to work on her language skills. As a CorSec officer, she learned always to be overly polite. Her accent slipped that time too. Around so many Imps, Fel picked up a few of the tonalities. She had to shed that somehow.<br/><br/>The former CorSec officer nodded as the girl went off to make arrangements. Fel wanted to get this over with. While she waited, the dark-skinned woman lowered her hood. The jacket was her brother's and was a couple of sizes too big. Only her fingertips poked out of the sleeve. Fel started to tap on the table impatiently but stopped, so she took a deep breath, held it in, and let it out slowly. Hopefully, the waitress wouldn't be much longer.<br/><br/>Seventy-two hours ago, Charey patrolled the streets of Coronet City as a captain in the Corellian Security Force. With her skill and a little luck, she would have made the rank of major in under a year. Now, she was on the run from the Imperials, her brother was mixed up in some scheme cooked up by a Jedi, and her parents hated her. The one saving grace seemed to be that Fel's image wasn't plastered over every screen in the sector. Still, every time she balked at her predicament, Fel remembered what the Imps did to Lyra. That kept her going.<br/><br/>Fel let her boot touch the bag for reassurance. No one walked by, but she needed to know. Of course, it was still there, she thought and let her eyes scan the bar again. The Togruta waitress served a pair of Ithorians in the corner. A Riordan sat alone nearby. An older human and a Twi'lek waitress strolled into the back, likely for companionship. At least there were no Imperials. Fel took in another breath and let it out. She began to relax.