Kal's dark eyes dont leave the dealer, ready to evicerate him in the instant Morad's tricks failed.

"Bacta." He says shortly, his eyes flicking towards the distant limits of the city, "And the smuggler's route into the woods." He knew there was one; there always was. How else could this man get the supplies for his speeders?

He knew Morad was dead-set on -getting- one of these speeders, and he knew just as certainly that he had to keep the Jedi from killing himself in such a way. With the city in lockdown, with the constant patrols and scans, getting out by speeder was out of the question. They'd never make it past the first checkpoint, and there would be checkpoints.

'Feh. Generals. They never like to march on the ground in the muck with the rest of their army, do they? Ten credits says he tosses his cookies in the sewers.'

'Dont you start, Boomer. Kal is the bitter one, the last thing we need is two Kals.'

'Fierfek, the galaxy would implode...'

The clone sighs to himself.