Tatin was not a patient man.<br/><br/>Oh sure, when rebuked or commanded he would wait as patiently as a serpent to strike, but unless chastised so, he would twitch and jerk, eager for combat. The confines of space, a friendly vessel no less, led to the high probability that he would not see physical combat for some time. He abhorred space travel for this reason. Though, on a more ruthless expedition for his stealth assignment not too long ago, he'd stolen away a pirate ship, silently killing them off one by one, until at last the lone pilot was left shrieking at the darkness, shooting at every flicker of shadow. It had most amused him, and for the fledgling Djem So practitioner, it was quite satisfying to instead let subtlety do his damage for him.<br/><br/>He growled restlessly, the low throaty sound of a caged beast, hoping down from his cot he went to the cold floor at the back of the cargo bay, twisting his limbs, contorting them to make their trademark snap and pop. He started to tilt his neck to crack it but then stopped. No... no that one he always saved. Scowling he took out his blade, such a fine weapon, the purple red mix an almost ethereal quality should he light it.<br/><br/>But he did not, twisting and jerking he blade back in his nimble gauntlet covered hands, his mind working endlessly over the forms.