A non-descript, oldish man walks into the Tavern. He shuffles along to a seat near the window, presently unoccupied. With a sigh, he sits down, watching the panorama of the starscape. He calls a robotic aide, and gives him instructions to bring him water, and to direct a certain Solanus Kalenda to his table once he arrived. Bowing slightly, the robot left.
He relaxed slightly, but did not lower his wariness. The frontier was dangerous.