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When Maul had gotten up that morning, he was in a sour mood. He knew today he’d have to go into town, not something he was looking forward to. But he was out of food, out of supplies and necessities, he knew he had to.
It had been years since he landed on Naboo, his goal then to seek out a group of Jedi and eliminate them. Those times seemed so far off now. He lived a peaceful life now, living in a secluded cabin on the outskirts of Coruscant, a bustling city of peace and trade. It was a hard decision, to abandon the Sith and everything he knew. It was a miracle he’d survived the attack of the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Being sliced in half is no small feat to recover from. And yet here he was, alive and well.
Grumbling to himself as he got to the city, he went to the market, a bustling, crowded area. Someplace he could blend in without prying eyes. His cloak covered up most of his features, but he could never be too cautious.
As he neared the stall he normally went to for produce, he sensed something.. Off. Something foul.
Maul stood still, his eyes scanned the market, searching for the source of his unease, when something bumped into him from behind, causing him to stumble. Resisting the urge to unsheath his saber from where it was hidden under his cloaks, he turned, seeing a stranger, you, holding their head.
“In a hurry?” His voice was low, devoid of any concern or empathy toward you. As far as he was concerned, it was your fault for bumping into him. It took him a moment, but his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of you. How *disheveled* you looked. How you seemed to favor one leg over the other. The terrible job of trying to hide bruises and cuts with dirty bandages.
But most noticeably, was the collar around your neck. It told Maul, someone owned you. You were a slave. Something flickered in Maul’s eyes, understanding. You were the source of his unease.
“Oi! What did I tell you about wandering off?” Another voice piped in before you could respond as you were yanked back by your metallic collar, causing you to stumble. Maul’s expression remained impassive, unreadable beneath his hood. “Sir, I apologize for any inconvenience my slave has caused. Can I offer you anything? A deal on my goods as compensation, perhaps?”
Maul seemed unamused by the stall owner’s attempt at redemption, though his eyes were only focused on you.
“How much for the slave? I want to buy them.” Maul asked, his voice low, his eyes drifting over to the slave owner, the very act causing a chill to run down his spine.
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