She sat at the galley table, her chin resting in one palm. Across from her sat an older Togruta, bags under his eyes, tall and thin, clad in a shabby tunic. He must have been starving, but he ate gingerly. There were scars on his horns and head-tails and fingers, and she suspected there were many more all over him. The markings on his horns oddly seemed like they were black marked with white rather than the other way around. He studiously did not look at her while he ate.

Ben coughed as he walked up and set down another bowl of soup and some bread. Shuvin glanced up at him, and he shot her a pointed look.

"Okay," Ben said, breaking the awkward silence. "We'll be taking you to the old Corporate Sector. Empire's gone, C-Sec Authority's gone, Alliance doesn't have the manpower or the fleet strength to take direct control. It's a bit rough, not much in the way of law in a lot of places, but at the moment there's nowhere better to lay low."

"Thank you," the older Togruta said seriously. "I owe you my life."

"If you had more'n a set of clothes I couldn't even give away, I'd give you a price and have you pay it," Ben answered. "But... no point in fleecing a sheared bantha. Now our other guests don't quite know we're running with stolen goods of various kinds, and you know what they say, 'Ignorance has a higher chance of keeping you alive than killing you.' Or... something like that. Let's just keep our mouths shut tight on this whole... thing, and things will be just fine."

Ben stepped back. The awkward silence descended once more.

"Well, I'm going to call the others for food. Perhaps we can pretend we're not hiding, or guilty of something?"

He received no answer, and jammed his hands into his pockets and stalked down to the passengers' cabins to rouse the others.