Salem's hair stood on end. Jocun was far more willing to cooperate than he'd anticipated. He was presumably loading the information being asked for, and putting himself in a very dangerous and vulnerable position, without so much as a thought for what the rest of the deal might entail. Either he was eager to please and eager to make friends... or Salem was walking right into a trap.
He suspected that there had to be an accomplice here with Rathien, and the beeping in his head seemed to indicate that Rathien was tailing him... closing the trap? No way the hunter would have shown his position without some kind of failsafe. It was starting to look more and more like it might be Jocun... thinking back, he hadn't seen Simon around until after Rathien had appeared. Not that that told him anything.
He glanced at Keshin... why would Rathien want to get him and Keshin alone? With Keshin here, it seemed more likely that this was a rebel maneuver. He raised an eyebrow at Simon. If that was the case, he was definitely a respectable actor, having come to the bar asking about the rebellion themselves.
So... was Jocun a rebel misdirecting him? Or Rathien's right-hand man?
Why not both?
Still... had to see how this was going to play out. Not much he could do if Rathien was ready to shoot him if he walked out the door.
<<Kess, keep your eyes open. Something feels wrong here. Be ready. Rathien's nearby.>> he said to the hunter in private thought-speak.
To Simon, he put on a smile. "Well, that's accommodating. Thank you. I was hoping I'd have the chance to grab some equipment from my ship first, but I'll make do." He pulled a small device from his pocket and ran it over Jocun a couple of times before putting it back. He then pulled out his persona scanner and clicked it at the Yeerk, before turning back to Jocun with a smile.
"Mind setting him down for a minute? I need to get a scan of him without you in the image."
Al laughed, "You're probably right. Gotta be the tuxedo." Without another word, his image flickered through about a dozen different outfits in a matter of seconds, before he finally seemed to settle on a bright purple track suit with yellow stripes, a similiarly-colored dirty headband, and a running weight in each hand.
He then imitated Ewa, rocking back and forth, and launched into a cartwheel, weights still in hand. He managed to stay upright and land it, albeit less gracefully than she'd done. He laughed again, his eyes twinkling. "Guess you were right."
He proceeded to perform a sloppy backflip, then another, and another, until he was backflipping across the field, away from Ewa. When he was about twenty yards away, he caught himself on his hands, mid-backflip, and pushed off in the other direction, front-flipping back towards her. As he reached her, he kicked off the ground sideways, twisted to catch himself on one hand and one foot, and managed to kick into another set of cartwheels. He cycled all the way around her, stood up, his hands in the air, and dropped into a clumsy somersault, which he couldn't quite complete. He got caught halfway in, fell onto his side, and rolled onto his back in the grass, panting.
"Tah dah!" he said quietly.
