Salvatore Caraway had very little experience with Jedi or Sith. Having been raised alongside his brother on Dantooine, he had a faint comprehension of the two - but that comprehension came from history books and holorecords, nothing ever concrete about what each stood for. He didn't know the codes, he couldn't even begin to comprehend their lifestyles...but even without any of this knowledge, he knew that the look in Perdante's eyes was not a good one. The coldness of her voice sent a chill sweeping over him, and with a mouth that was now suddenly dry, he found himself without words to speak. Instead, he shifted once more so that he was sitting beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders while the other kept hold of her hand.
And for the first time in a long time, he was actually scared. Terrified, really. Because the voice that came out of Perdante then wasn't the voice of the woman that he had sparred with, that had accidentally kissed him in the heat of the moment, that had occupied his mind ever since. It was the voice of a Sith...and he was legitimately frightened of losing her.