Kal's blaster isnt steady; it traces tiny circles in the air; ready to shift possition should Cyphor move. His eyes are un-blinking, and armor or not; the clone cuts an intimidating figure.

He didnt trust the Bothan. His words were too calm; no civilian was that easy about a weapon pointed at them. There was something here he wasnt seeing, and every passing second meant further danger. Ta'quey was still alone on the streets, heading for the outskirts, and while Kal couldnt say he didnt trust the Jedi youth, leaving his charge alone in hostile territory was begining to irk his instincts.

If this bothan -was- an Imperial informant, time to just end it and -!! Movement!

Kal drops into a deep crouch, murder in his eyes, and it is -only- his superior training that saves Cyphor from a barrage of blasterfire.

His eyes shoot wide, he springs back upright like he'd been bit; spine so straight it looks like its been replaced by a steel rod. His blaster has dropped to hang by its sling... and he's saluting, just about the time Cyphor's saber would be descending towards his chest in a swing.