Vincenzo went to the spaceport bar. Even though he couldn't drink, or eat, or breath anything, he felt that the familiarity of it would help soothe him. He sat on a stool of the bar, and a drink was timidly placed in front of him by a rotund barkeep. The patrons of the establishment eyed him fearfully and gave him a wide berth, and most beat a hasty exit.
Vince's eyes had moved from purple to blue, and they were unnoticeable when compared to his face. Or what passed for his face. He was content to sit there and let the movement of time and space and life and afterlife just flow by. For a while. Business in the bar dwindled, but a crowd was growing outside, people coming to get a glimpse at the ghost... from a distance. As he did nothing threatening, business slowly returned.
Finally, restlessness moved him. He got up and went back to his ship, which was under protection by several guards. They saluted as he walked past. Respect, veneration, and more than a little fear in their eyes. He boarded his ghost Sabre with no destination in mind, no objective in mind, just to get away.
![[Image: iskariot_4.png]](http://i134.photobucket.com/albums/q97/Zax_Gentoo/iskariot_4.png)