There were days where Charles wondered what kind of an idiot Sith Lord had chosen a frakking desert to be the heart of the Dark Side’s empire. Obviously there was a lot of room to carve out tacky tombs and fill them with death-traps and nasty beasties – the Arkanian had always thought it was rather ridiculous of them to leave a way out of all those trap: when he finally bit the dust, his own tomb would have proximity-triggered mines that brought the whole thing down on whoever was dim enough to try to rob his grave – but besides room, what in the Bloody Stars was there on this dustball? Other Sith to kill, sure, but by now he seemed to have acquired a reputation as some sort of psychopathic mass-murdering drunk and weaklings just kind of fled when he entered the cantina nowadays. It was thoroughly unfair, this whole thing: sure, he was a mass-murdering drunk, but he wasn’t a psychopath! B’sides, any Sith calling out another Sith on mental health issues was a bit of a hypocrite – the Arkanian had figured that one out by himself after the second lesson where he basically got taught to choke people to death with his mind. This was all kinds of awesome, given, but probably not conducive to a balanced and healthy mental state.

He’d yet to meet a non-crazy Sith, after all – Quin had a death wish (which apparently got fulfilled, so good on him kind of), Kat has impulse control and megalomania issues, Kentarch was a cackler and a compulsive hoarder, Aurelius had a distinct tendency to kill everything that moved when he got impatient and the Undelord was literally out to conquer the know universe. Seriously, by comparison he was the good guy. Heh, the blond Marauder smirked to himself as he ignited his shoto and plunged it into the control panel of Varenska’s quarter’s door, she upgraded security again. It was like a game between old friends: his Little Bird tried to keep him out with increasingly complicated mechanical upgrades, and then he just butchered through them within seconds with brute force and a laser blade. It was the kind of game where he always won, like most of the games he played with little Firrerreo accomplice. He’d been rather surprised when he’d first caught her herding young students to a ship that disappeared into the night: guts wasn’t a word he usually associated to Varenska Arman, and it took that special kind of stupidity called courage to think that she could walk away from something like that unharmed.

He’d briefly considered getting the Umbaran she-bitch in charge of the Academy and letting her deal with the whole thing, but where would the fun in that be? B’sides, the day he helped the Headmistress with anything except tumbling down a set of stairs would come just as soon as the Underlord started to pick flowers and ride space-unicorns. Not to mention that for all her mousiness, Little Bird was far from hard on the eyes. Firrerreo weren’t usually his thing, but there was something almost innocent about her, and that appealed to the most depraved depths of his soul. Whether he’d crush the dove or let it fly away he hadn’t decided yet – for now he’d just hold her tight and enjoy the squirming as she tried to flee. Mhmm, Varenska squirming, the Arkanian was briefly distracted as the last durasteel obstacle that separated him from the afternoon’s entertainment. He had no classes left for the day, he’d finished the last of his stash and there was no one worth killing on the training fields, which had driven him to his default pastime of messing with his favourite spy’s head until she got that crazy look in her eyes that said if he continued to push she’d tried to kill him. And after he continued to push, defeated her weak attempt and mocked her for it, he had the pleasure of walking out and leaving her in the darkness to ponder the fact that for all his taunting he was helping her. Leaning through the doorway, the blond Marauder smiled wickedly and cocked his head.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out cheerfully.

With classes finished for the day, Varenska had made her way from her teaching area as quickly as possible, grabbed a quick bite to eat from the cook (even if she was unsure of what the meal was supposed to be let alone look like), and hurried back to her quarters. Varenska wanted peace and quiet, and living in a place that was far from condoning any sort of quiet made it nearly impossible. However, one's quarters were supposed to be a sanctuary, and continually adding more and more security measures to keep it that way was a pain especially when those measures proved time and again to not work. Varenska was tired of the game, but played it anyways day in and day out because what was she to do?

She knew Charles would be coming today, because he hadn't been around at all the last couple of days. Typically when she thought he had finally given up on his games was when he showed up again. Varenska had made the mistake of thinking that very thought this morning and had immediately berated herself mentally for it. She wasn't disappointed, unfortunately. As she finished eating her meal, that was hopefully at the very least nutritious, she could hear the alarm go off for her new locking mechanism then it died almost as quickly. Why were locks made so they kept everything out except for Charles Saravien?

Varenska moved from her sitting position on the mat on the floor, and made sure her lightsaber was where it needed to be before she moved into her room and felt under her pillows for one of the two vibroblades she kept there for added security. She honestly feared him showing up at all times of the day and night, and wasn't going to let herself be caught off guard while sleeping. Part of her really just wanted him to turn her over to the Headmistress and be done with it, but another part, the stronger part of her logic, continued to remind her that even for all this trouble Charles was allowing her to do what she needed to in order to get the children away. It still seemed odd that he hadn't turned her in immediately, but then again he always did seem the type who enjoyed toying with things and people until they were broken and no longer fun for him. Varenska wasn't planning on breaking just yet, though.

As that damn voice reached her ears, Varenska flipped the vibroblade in her hand and turned it on before throwing it as hard as she could towards the source of the voice. "Get out!" she demanded coldly and with the usual look of pure disdain on her face. She spoke after throwing the blade if only out of her subconscious knowledge that Charles wouldn't be killed by such a thing. Even if she wanted to believe she could kill him, even her subconscious knew better.

Ah, flying blades and cold words – the usual first step in their delightful little dance. She was a creature of habit, his Little Bird. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Charles was the same, after all, his habits just involved a lot more murdering than was the case for the galactic average. Lazily snatching the vibroknife out of the air, the Marauder sauntered in with a sinful grin. Most people would have been put off by the murder attempt preceding the rest of the conversation they would have, but the Arkanian wasn’t most people. This was like foreplay, really, and the fact that she was getting closer to actually killing him with every passing month just made the whole thing more titillating. Twirling the blade between his fingers with a nonchalance that seemed rather blasé coming from a man who’d been five inches from getting a finger’s length of sharpened durasteel through the left eyeball, the Marauder studied the weapon’s workmanship and raised an eyebrow.

“You buy Mandalorian now? Rookie mistake, that - go for the Ubese stock, they’re better balanced for throws,” he advised sagely.

Ignoring the pretty Firrerreo’s dark look, Charles pulled up a chair and straddled it, facing her as she sat on the bare mat in the bare room. Even for an instructor, this haven of hers was a bit... naked. And not even the fun kind of naked, to his eternal disappointment. It could be chalked up to her being a mole and not wanting to get too comfortable in between the enemy’s teeth, but to be honest it seemed more of a ‘Renska neurosis thing than a sneaky-spy precaution. She wasn’t all that well up in the head, his Little Bird – part of what made her so entertaining, really. She had that particular brand of stupidity they called bravery in spades, yet she was afraid of most everything that moved. She was a passing swordswoman at best when it came to a fight, yet she could dig up talent in the most atrociously unskilled of the little bastards populating the Academy. Varenska Arman was a puzzle of the most fascinating sort, an enigma wrapped in a charade with a figure fit to wake up a dead man. She called to all the parts of him, really – the Arkanian in him wanted to pick her apart until he understood what made her tick, the womanizing drunk amused himself with mind games and idle seduction and the disease eating away at his soul could not allow innocence like hers to walk away unscathed. Was it any wonder she was the only woman he’d met he’d never gotten bored of? Maybe he was obsessed, in some ways, but the Sith were no strangers to obsession. Through passion, I gain strength.

“You shouldn’t leave your door open if you don’t want people coming in,” he informed the lovely instructor in a serious tone, “Besides, there are all sorts of unsavoury characters out in the halls this late.”

His tone made it unclear whether he was blissfully unaware of the sheer absurdity of what he was saying or if he was just messing with her head as he often did – just the way the Arkanian liked it.

Even though Varenska had expected her throw to either miss or be deflected it still didn't ease the disappointment she felt. It also showed on her face as well, but that was soon erased by the epic amounts of annoyance that showed again as Charles sat down so casually. When he mentioned her door her mouth fell open a little that he would word it that way. With her eye twitching just a little she forced herself to not retort that she had locked her door, and how normal people did not go around breaking people's locks when they knew for damn sure that the lock was there to keep them out!

Varenska moved to stand almost on the other side of the room from where Charles was seated and had her arms crossed defiantly. "Even those considered 'unsavory' know the difference between a locked door and an unlocked one! You owe me five hundred credits for the damage you just did to my new lock." she said with her eyes narrowed. He'd yet to pay for any damages he'd done prior to now, but it never hurt to try, right?

She moved towards her door to check on the lock and didn't look surprised when she saw the mess made by Charles using his lightsaber. "The door won't even close all the way now!" she complained and threw another glare at Charles before practically stomping over to him and pushing him a little with her hand. Oh...she was getting a little more brave that she would even approach him now? Well, her heart was hammering in her chest, but that happened even when she was across the room from him. "And I didn't tell you you could sit down! You're not welcome in here, so get up and get out!" she said angrily and gave another shove to his shoulder for good measure.

"Even those considered 'unsavory' know the difference between a locked door and an unlocked one!”

“You hang out with unsavoury blokes?” Charles asked amusedly. “No wonder you need a lock on your door.”

“You owe me five hundred credits for the damage you just did to my new lock."

“It was like that when I got here,” the Arkanian lied shamelessly.

The Marauder had never been against a bit of blatant lies when accused of various offences – it simplified things, really. Saravien, did you just push that man through the window? Of course not, he tripped and fell through the reinforced glass. Saravien, did you just drink my extremely expensive bottle of whiskey? It’s medicinal, doctor’s orders. Saravien, what are you doing in bed with my wife? I have no idea what you’re talking about – isn’t this my house? Would you look at that, I must have taken a right instead of a left: I’ll just be going, then. Thanks for the directions, mate... Most of the time that one moment they spent sputtering in outrage was enough for him to either kill the other man or run.

"The door won't even close all the way now!"

“Yes,” he agreed, “you should really get that fixed.”

One of the many advantages of being a bad man was that Charles could admit to himself exactly how much he enjoyed winding up his Little Bird – it was very cute when she went around ranting and raving and thinking she had any sort of control over the situation. Not to mention she got flushed and breathless, which did rather interesting things for her figure. Winners all around, really: she got to feel righteously indignant and he got eye-candy and show. Who knows, the Arkanian mused as he languidly gave Varenska a once over, maybe one of these days it will be dinner and a show instead of just the entry course. Cocking his head to the side, the blond swordsman listened to the erratic beat of her heart with a wicked smile: fear, for now, but he had every intention of threading attraction to it in time. Charles had never bothered to hide what he thought of ‘Renska’s looks – or any attractive woman’s, if he was to be honest – and most Sith in his position would have simply blackmailed the woman in their bed. But that was just giving up, wasn’t it? It was as good as admitting that he couldn’t seduce her into sharing his bed of her own free will, and that just wasn’t something he was willing to do now or ever. Charles had never forced a woman to his bed, or needed to, and a bird as fine as the Firrerreo deserved a... better class of tormentor. Continuing in her rant Varenska stomped all the way back to him, pushing him lightly. Pushing back the cold flash in the back of his head that almost made his hands snap up and break her arm in seven different places, the Marauder decided to allow her to continue, his eyes inscrutable.

"And I didn't tell you you could sit down! You're not welcome in here, so get up and get out!"

She shoved him again and this time he allowed the momentum to send him stumbling off the chair – only his hand snapped up and caught her arm, dragging her down with him. For all her indignation, Little Bird was still just little Bird: by the time they hit the ground, she was under him. Pinning her hands with his own and pushing down her legs in a hold he’d been taught as a child, Charles smiled at the Firrerreo struggling under him.

“I’ve killed people for less than this, you know,” he informed her mildly.

Maybe she should have listened to that fearful part of her brain that typically told her to keep a good distance between herself and Charles, because she hadn't and now look at what happened. Well, Varenska wasn't exactly sure what had happened, because she was pretty sure she didn't shove him that hard. There had been a moment of triumph that she could tell he was falling out of his chair, but then panic set in quickly to take triumph's place as she was pulled down with him.

Her hands had moved quickly to try and get Charles to let go, but in that time she had somehow ended up falling faster than him? She wasn't sure, but what she was sure about was that she was now pinned under the man she loathed and she couldn't breathe because of her fear. Her eyes were wide, but slightly obscured by some of her hair which ended up partially in her face in the quick movements. She was still for a moment as her situation sunk into her brain, but then she was back to moving and squirming to try and get herself free. Charles mentioning that he killed people for less was even more of a reason for her to struggle.

Varenska locked eyes with Charles for a moment before looking at each of her hands while trying to twist her wrists free of his grip. Concentration clouded the large amount of fear in her eyes, but she could still feel the panic rising in her heart as it beat wildly in her chest. "Let go!" she said in as demanding a tone as she could muster. "Get off of me, Charles!"

She hated how her voice felt so tight, and how difficult it was to keep it from shaking when she spoke. With a heaving breath she tried to move her legs to get them free, and finally tried to concentrate enough to use the Force to push Charles away from her. The chair near them shot away as she pushed that instead, though. A small sigh of frustration at her own ineptitude escaped her lips at her failure. Her concentration wasn't solely on Charles just on getting free, so she took her own advice that she gave to her students and looked directly at Charles again before trying with all her might to push him away from her with a Force Push.

"Let go! Get off of me, Charles!"

Little Bird was trying to sound demanding, but she really came across as more of a pleading type with all that barely restrained panic in her voice. Absent-mindedly pushing her struggling limbs back down, the blond Marauder frowned as he shifted his position so that he wouldn’t bruise her too much – wouldn’t look nice on that pale skin of hers, and eye-candy was half the reason he was messing around with the Firrerreo. Charles had never gotten fear, even if he’d gotten wickedly good at causing it in the rank and file. Whether it was the Sith’s or the Jedi’s, he’d never been too picky about. Maybe it was because he’d never really felt it, that kind of cold drop in the stomach they described in the holovids, his blood running cold or all those little quirks he’d heard people talk about. Quin had been a bit like that too, maybe that was why he’d been so tight with the Hapan Princess. What would it be like, to be like her? He couldn’t help but wonder, seeing the pale beauty under him fight tooth and nail not to let show she was just a blink of an eye from losing it.

So much fear in that one, and it never left her. From most people he only got fear when the monster got out from under the bed, but in Varenska it was there all the time. Sure, she was a traitor and if people found out she’d be brutally tortured, raped and then executed in the most excruciating way the Big Boss could think up. She’d signed up for that, though, as far as he knew. If Little Bird knew she was going to flinch, knew she wasn’t cut out to be a sneak, why did she become one in the first place? She couldn’t have been the only turncoat whoever she was working for had been able to find: betrayal came cheap on Korriban, you could always find someone to stick a dagger or a lie in the right back for the right price. The answer came to him, eventually: it wasn’t about getting caught. She was afraid because she was weak, really just a small bird taking refuge in a cage that was rattled a bit with the monsters’ every step. You’re weak because you’re afraid, Little Bird, and you’re afraid because you’re weak. The Arkanian bared his teeth at the other Academy instructor, his grin sharp, white and utterly inhuman.

“Sith don’t ask, Varenska. If you want something, take it. If you want to be rid of something, break it,” Charles told her harshly, his dark eyes like embers as they met hers.

Her first try at telekinesis sent furniture flying and the Marauder sent her a look that was vaguely contemptuous. Panic made her weak, useless – until she learned to master it, she was more of a threat to her own quarters than she was to him. The second time, when she actually looked at him and he could see her steeling herself somewhere deep inside, she sent a wave of the Force hurtling at him with enough strength to push him off. It would have been enough to flatten him against the wall, really, but the gaunt swordsman hadn’t gotten to become a Lord because of his good looks and charming personality – his own telekinetics shrugged off most of the impact and he allowed himself to be thrown back a few feet with a breathless laugh.

“Anger,” he grinned at her. “Good. It kills fear, Little Bird, and until you’ve killed your fear you won’t be able to even touch me.”

Pushing himself back up with the feline grace of a man who’d spent all of his life learning to kill people, Charles leaned back against her dinner table and flicked out a deathstick, lighting it casually as he allowed the Firrerreo a moment or two to work back up that delightful righteous anger of hers.

“Heard there’s going to be a new shipment of brats coming in this afternoon,” the Marauder told her casually. “I doubt anyone would notice if one or two went missing before they got to the Academy grounds – accidents all the time, around here.”

Varenska tried hard to not shrink back when Charles bared his teeth, she really did, but it was instinct and she looked like she'd sink into the floor if given the chance. However, the young woman watched in satisfaction as Charles was thrown back. Sure, he didn't go nearly as far away as she would have wanted...or disappeared completely which seemed to be impossible...but he was far enough away that she could scramble back to her feet and move to the other side of the room.

His tone was his usual, but Varenska could tell she was getting a lesson. Charles' teaching style was not even close to her's, but she could still hear the instructor coming out of the Arkanian. Swallowing hard she simply forced her face into one of disgust and stood up a little more straight.

"I don't want to touch you, Charles." Varenska hissed softly before looking completely shocked at the turn of the conversation...if one could call what they were having a conversation.

Varenska did look interested, but then looked highly skeptical of the man who was going to be stinking up her room with that damn death stick. She glared at the drug before glaring at Charles directly, "Why are you telling me?" she asked out of pure curiosity. It wasn't a trap, because Charles was one that she knew would not make the trap so obvious. This was one of the moments that Charles threw her for a loop and confused the hell out of her. It also worried her because information like this was never free.