A young Zabrak sat hunched over in a cantina not far from the main landing structure of the planet Coruscant. He wasn't really supposed to be there, on Coruscant, but he had ignored the exile specifications set upon him. It wasn't his fault his former master was a Sith.
He sipped a small glass of Jawa Juice, a popular drink on the Republic capital planet, sighing.
He had grey skin, rather uncommon for a Zabrak, and sharp green eyes. A dark grey cloak enveloped him, keeping him inconspicuous in the pulsing throng of the planet's popular nightlife. Beneath his robe he carried a small blaster pistol, a vibroshiv, and a custom lightsaber suited to his particular fighting style.
He looked out the window of the cantina.
A ship just landed.
His hairless eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he sensed through the Force that a Jedi Master was aboard. And another less powerful individual, likely his padawan.
Irath Kolar finished off his drink in a large gulp, then amplified his aura. It would undoubtably draw the Master's interest like a beacon in a snowstorm.
He ordered two more drinks for his soon-to-be guests.