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Baron scrutinized the Miraluka warily. Not his Master? Of course. But wasn't "Master" a word used as a term of reverence? No matter.

"What shall I call you then?" Baron asked before answering "I want to learn it all. I know I cannot do so, but, as I said, I want peace and tranquility. To better myself. Do not get me wrong, I am open to any method to accomplish this, even if turning or embracing the Dark Side accomplishes my goals, I will do it."

He decided to demonstrate his abilities, weak as they were. He looked around for something to pull towards him and found a canister that could not be easily lifted by a mere human. He calmed his mind and reached out with the Force, willing the canister to come to him and float several feet from the ground. He then reached out to a droid passing by, lifted it up in the air and have it settle onto the canister. Both objects easily could weigh in at several hundred kilos, yet, like any who had half a brain in the use of the Force could effortlessly lift these objects up.

Baron let the objects down, letting the protesting droid go about its business, and faced the Miraluka and shrugged. "I can do that, but that is all. Basic stuff. I admit, my previous training has been a tad slow."

"I asked what I would call you, not your name," Baron responded heatedly, allowing some anger bleed through. "My father was indeed very negligent in my training."

He wasn't looking at the object he pulled toward them, but instead trickled his mind to them, including the droid. He used the Force to compress them, and the poor droid's last squeal of protest echoed across the grounds as its dying sparks arced on the floor. The canister's gooey contents pooled around the now-compressed ball, which was about sixty seven centimeters. It was his first ability, and the reason why he attempted to keep his emotions--anger in particular--in check.

"I hated him for being so slow with me," Baron finished. He honestly didn't care which way he went. Light. Dark. It did not matter to him. As long as he could control his emotions, and therefore this curse he was born with.

Baron could barely hold his anger in check as the Miraluka laughed at him. His eyebrow twitched. He wanted to lash out, but knew it was foolhardy. If he had to admit to himself, it *would* be his, Baron's, fault that he was seriously lacking in training. Other learners would have probably mastered control over their abilities and had gone into combat. He, however...

"Yeah, so what if it is my own fault?" Baron asked calmly, though he was screaming in his head. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to have this ability. I hate it. The only way to rid myself of it is to die, and I don't want that either. So, I'm stuck with it."

Baron shook with anger. Why was he losing control?! That added fuel to his fire, and his eyebrows furrowed, he clenched his fists, and snarled at the Miraluka. But his anger was toward his own father for giving him this ability. Surely his mother didn't have it--she was too weak. But then, so was he. And he was angry. Angry at himself for being this way, for not paying attention to his training. He regretted everything about him, and yet... Yet was what the Miraluka said true? Did he crave more? No. He couldn't believe. He *wouldn't* believe it, but try as he might, he couldn't shake that feeling.

He felt his emotions surging through him. Anger at the truth. Hatred toward himself. Fear of what it all meant. Years of training. Countless hours of meditation. Gone in an instant. He felt those emotions, caressed them. Welcomed them. He needed an escape. He saw only one outlet in that escape. And he took it.

Without realizing what he had done, Baron lashed out with the Force against the Miraluka, putting his anger into it, fueling his hatred. Releasing his fear. He screamed, punching his fist forward.

Panting, he fell to his knees. He paid no attention to the tears flowing from his face. He lost control for the first time in twenty years. That was why his father started to train him, because he lost control of his emotions and lashed out. Yet, he did so again.

And Baron was afraid. Truly afraid.

Baron gasped as the Miraluka spoke. Why did he hold back after all this time? This was... This was excellent. And he started to laugh. He stood up and smiled for the first time in a long time. Even positive emotions were bottled up for all this time, and when he exploded with the Force just then, the bottle uncorked and he felt alive. And he knew what he wanted. The Miraluka was right. He craved power.

But wait, his mind said. Sure, power is great, but those who seek power are often destroyed by it. Baron would have to be careful.

"I see," Baron said. And he felt rather foolish. He couldn't change the past, though. And so accepted it as it was. "I want to learn to tap into my full potential. There's no need for me to keep it hidden from myself. I am a fool to keep my emotions inside. They are a part of me, and so I will accept them again." It was more of a promise to himself than to the Miraluka.

Baron quickly turned his head at the new stranger as he started to clap. "How did you know my name?" Baron whispered suspiciously. He didn't think the Force could actually read minds. Manipulate, sure. But read them? Well, maybe. There was some things the Force couldn't do, but that list was short. And even then, there may be a way. At any rate, Baron did not take his eyes off the stranger. He looked Jedi, but his confidence in them was a bit shattered. And even now, Baron did not consider himself a part of them. At least no longer.

Baron didn't see it coming, and his reaction was too slow as the Miraluka's fist made contact with his nose, breaking it. Blood gushed freely from the wound, and he stepped back in surprise and anger. He fought the urge to strike back, but knew that he deserved that strike, considering he delivered the first blow.

"Sorry," he sputtered belatedly, pinching his nose in place to stop the rushing blood. He winced as the stinging sensation came. He clenched himself as he prepared to set his broken nose back in place. Taking a deep breath, he snapped his nose, setting it, he hoped, correctly. He used a bit of the Force to stop the wound from flowing too bad, but he would certainly need medical attention later, but not now.