There it was, again, that annoying, enticing laugh.<br/><br/>The golden blade of Johte's own lightsaber remained pointed at his face, if from a relatively safe distance; Procion's right hand was resting on his hip, his weight on his back foot, and though it would've been easy to move into actual combat from such a pose, at the moment it seemed intended more for aesthetics, the skin-tight, light-absorbing suit at once revealing and deceptive. A tall, slender body, delicate yet with a serpentine strength, slim hips, and, perhaps it was a trick of the eye and the fabric, something of a bulge at the front - one that the Sith did little to conceal. Did he find this game arousing? From a woman, such shameless flaunting of one's goods would have been hard to misinterpret, but was seduction something a<i>male</i>Sith would employ, against an equally male Jedi?<br/><br/>"Why would I bait you into a fight I might well lose?" Procion asked softly, tilting his head as he broke the silence that had been stretching on a little too long. His grin took on a sharper edge.<br/><br/>"I don't keep count of the Jedi I kill. The Empire doesn't give medals for it, or even sodding credits. And I don't intend to go down as a notch in some bastard's belt, in a cave full of rakghouls. No - you say you have an 'urge', and I say show me."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>