Tysyacha knew that the Ebon Hawk had belonged to many owners. Revan had commandeered her, yes, but he was not the first, nor would he be the last. There was also Davik Kang, for instance, a deceased crime lord...
"The ship was left to me," replied the Exile, "or, rather, left for me by its previous owner and pilot. I knew him well, and he has gone to complete some unfinished business." She gestured to the main hold of the ship. "Please, sit down and I'll have T3 bring us all some strong shots of juma juice." With a dwoooo of concern, he obeyed the order promptly.
"Thank you, T3! As I was saying, the Ebon Hawk was in good hands before, and she's in good hands now." A smile, and the briefest of pauses. She took a sip of her drink before continuing. "You may call me by my first or last name--just don't call me late for chow when it's around 1800 hours!" Laughter. Tysyacha hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she was feeling.
"I was on Nar Shaddaa because--well, I wanted to play a little pazaak and a little shakhmaty to earn some credits, but it looks like that plan's shot. I'm not exactly on vacation, but you could say I'm trying to remain incognito. I tangled with the wrong people, two associates of the Exchange." Silence.
The holovid reception in the cantina was terrible. A news report flickered on:
"...hunt for Jedi...operative killer...reward...two million credits if alive."
"Narg!" cried one of the other patrons. "If I had my own ship, I'd go!"
(NOTE: Bastila doesn't trust Psycho, exactly, so she's looking for some other hunters...)