A trace of malevolence flashes across the chubby man’s face as he looks at his blaster. “Lessons? Yes. Yes, that would be excellent, friend.” The man then extends his hand to help Ian get up, adding, “The name’s Gulbek, Callouste Gulbek. My friends call me Cal. I own this place.” With that, he hoists Ian to his feet, eyeing him expectantly, waiting for Ian’s name in return [OOC: I expect that Ian would tell the man his name, so I’ll go on.]

“Now what was that about my wrist?” asks the man, becoming quite suddenly serious. Cal seems very interested in what Ian has to teach and is very receptive to the training, although he isn’t the quickest study. In fact, his improvement is quite slow, but over the next hour he does get better with each burst of insight gleaned from Ian’s pointers.

During one particularly bad stretch of consecutive misses, Cal’s eyes grow wild and he becomes frustrated and upset by his ineptitude. Grumbling ever louder with each miss, he unexpectedly spirals into a rage, reverting back to his previous form of wild shooting and forgetting all that Ian has taught him. Completely ignoring Ian and Ears, he unloads his power pack in fury on the stack of old vaporator parts, squeezing the trigger as fast as he can until the blaster stops firing.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” he screams. Then, having run out of ammo, he drops his blaster and charges the pile of parts, kicking it down with a barrage of vicious boot blows. “I’m gonna make you PAY!”

During this little episode, Ears ducks behind Ian and clings to his calf, peeking out from between Ian’s legs. Resisting the urge to run away, the little scavenger peers up at his friend looking for assurance that it’s still safe.

After a few bonus kicks to the pile for good measure, silence fills the open courtyard. The only sound is the wheezing breath of the balding, pudgy Cal. With the two strangers looking on, the air of menace around the human slowly subsides as he catches his breath. Glancing back over his shoulder at Ian and Ears, Cal’s body language changes to that of embarrassment for his outburst.

“Sorry you had to see that friend. I start thinking about that low-life, good-for-nothing Tarfolian blood-weasel, and I just can’t control myself,” explains Cal, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his khaki colored tunic, his ire rising slightly once again as he thinks about it.

The human then walks back over and retrieves his blaster and tucks it into his sash. With a nod he says, “Thanks for the instruction, friend.”

It’s obvious that Cal is uncomfortable having lost his cool in front of a stranger, so he does his best to play it off and change the subject. “What are you doing alone out on the mesa anyway, Ian? It’s very dangerous out there with the Sand People and all.” Cal then motions in the direction of the ship with a sudden idea; “You weren’t part of that fireball for a landing were you? I thought it was a meteor at first.”

“Hold that thought, I’ll be right back,” he says, preempting Ian’s reply, before disappearing through the door to the half-sunk office/dwelling. He re-appears a few seconds later with three cups of cold liquid – two large and one small. Offering a large cup to Ian and the small cup to Ears, he says, “I thought you might like something cold to drink, it’s been a scorcher today.” He then sits on the corner of the closed junk-box along the wall of his home and takes a drink from his own cup.

“I take it you are heading to Mos Taike?” he asks, thumbing over his shoulder to indicate the general direction of the settlement. Waiting for Ian’s answers, he watches a laughing Ears try to cram it’s oversized head into the cup.

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Dex catches most of scene from his vantage point behind a large boulder he snuck up to about 25 meters from the perimeter fence. Making sure to remain hidden, Dex is becoming hot and bored in the stagnant air. His makeshift turban has completely dried out and he’s beginning to feel the heat starting to sap his strength. Fortunately, the boulder provides some shade, not being completely sun-drenched.

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Back at the ship, Jarren relaxes in the nice, air-conditioned crew lounge, mesmerized by the erotic activities playing out before him in glorious 3-D and waiting for the ASP droid to complete it’s tasks. For hours, the hypnotic hum and vibration from the hull work has contributed to his peaceful state of mind on some subconscious level. It is only now that the Omwati’s mind begins to tickle in the absence of that reassuring hum. Odd, the droid shouldn't be done yet.