By lunchtime in the commissary, Arty had almost begun to wish he had more of the medicine they had pumped him full of the day before. His bruises were stiff and hot and the crack in his lip burned with every drink he took.

He had already put a dent in his credits buying off his babysitter to keep the troubleshooter from beating another false confession from him for a payday. It had been extortion, really. The bribe was coaxed out of him with no guarantee his personal guard wasn't just going to use that against him and get another 1000 credits for it.

Given the events of the past few days, he knew it would be better to keep his distance from anyone in case either of them became guilty by association, but his body, the troubleshooter watching him, and the universe seemed to all disagree with that, when the troubleshooter tripped the ex-priest when he moved forward in line to get lunch, and abruptly Arty found himself thrown against the nearest unfortunate person in line with him.

Rather than attempt to shift the blame to his babysitter, he immediatey attempted to scramble to right himself and help the other victim of the cruel trick as well.

"My apologies. I lost my footing. Are you all right?"