"She doesn't have a clue where I'm from, at this point, and she won't if you keep your mouth shut." Gren notes with a look at Malif, before hefting his duffel bag, and giving another look at his conversation partner, a frown on his own face. "Don't expect me to fall all over myself, when I see your title, friend." Delede turns on his heel, and stalks away from the mess that his trip to Corellia turned in to, heading for his own starfighter, where it's nestled in the massive spaceport. Twila's brain is working overtime, now, trying to figure out just what will happen since she's never interrogated a droid, before. It isn't like threats of torture and the like would make a bit of difference to one, and not all are really programmed with a level of self-preservation that they'd 'talk' at the