Barking orders earned Johte a glare, but for whatever reason, the Sith did not try to challenge him, verbally or otherwise. A cynic might have remarked that had he made such a move, he would most assuredly have lost; spent and wounded, he was in no condition to fight an opponent at least his equal in combat prowess. If he was, as he'd stated, not an idiot, then he must have realised this. Whether that was why he sat still and did not recoil from Johte's touch as the Jedi examined his wounds or not, the result was nonetheless the same: compliance.<br/><br/>From close by, one could tell that Procion was in fact quite young, perhaps younger than expected, even. The fact that he was in these tunnels alone, with a set of high-tech equipment that had no doubt cost a neat sum, as well as the earlier display of undeniable Force potency, suggested he was certainly not a novice, but he could not have been older than in his mid-twenties. He was a slim, sinuous creature, his skin a very dark shade of red, and delicate, cartilaginous tendrils and ridges lined his angular face; one such tendril had almost been severed by the rakghoul's claws, hanging from the side of his jaw by just a thin strip of skin. Another deep gash ran along his neck from the ear down, and a third across his cheek, just below the left eye. That eye, along with its counterpart, was fixed on the Jedi, watching his every move keenly. He'd need stitches or kolto, probably both, eventually.<br/><br/>"The ghouls will try to get through to us," the Sith mused in a quiet voice, but actually put in the effort to move as little as possible when he spoke. "There's a larger cavern behind this one. We might be able to break through the wall." Then he quieted down again, letting the Jedi work, wincing at the sting of the antiseptic.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>