Demarr stared at the blank screen of his vid console, biting his lower lip bloody. It had been easy to go against Iilo's wishes in the heat of the moment, with the Sith Master's eyes boring into him like he mattered and the Jedi woman politely pretending he didn't exist. The old man had sparked his pride and reminded him of home, making some of the fear and worry that had plaguing the boy since he stepped foot in the temple to shrink back and let him think. It had been getting claustrophobic inside his head, but the Sith cleared it away with a simple, threatening slam of his staff. Staying one step ahead of losing his hide was what a young Balosarian did best. If they ever had any hope of becoming an older Balosarian, at any rate.

And he was good at lying. Very, very, good. Better at it than truthing, really. He'd lied to Iilo and Mehtne plenty of times, and the only times they'd minded was when he did it poorly. The key lesson of his fibbing hadn't been to avoid it, but to make sure it was done properly. A lie could get you into a lot of trouble if it was done wrong, and have just the opposite effect if handled right. Like most of his early lessons it was a grave and volatile one to master, but Demarr had lies down pat in a matter of weeks. He had learned young how to smile even when he was in pain.

There were some things, though, he wasn't supposed to lie about. Important, special things like if people they cared about were okay or not, or if the many bad guys were coming to get them. He had a worried suspicion that this was one of those things instead of the regular kind. Iilo had been very serious and clear about the whole process of getting him off-world: he was to be a good boy and use every single ounce of charm and smarts he had to get accepted into the Jedi temple. He should change if they wanted him to, since they would be molding him into a better person. He was not to visit home ever, unless it came up as a mission or was specifically sent there by his superiors. He balked at that last instruction, not liking the idea of being sent away. Mehtne had gotten angry too, but Iilo had been too quite and firm to be argued with. The boy was getting a fleeting chance at a better life, and he was damn well taking it.

Maybe... maybe if he was sneaky he could tell the truth about what had happened at the exams without saying he was a Sith instead of a Jedi. For all he knew, Iilo didn't realize there were two groups at the temple, but he still wanted to be cagey. He had not followed the intructions he'd been given to the letter, and the way they'd been delivered he was fairly sure he had been supposed to. So. How to lie and be honest at the same time?

Demarr grinned suddenly, fingers flying across the typing pad with the careless confidence of a technology-soaked city child. It was a lie of omission he was crafting, which by his standards was barely an untruth at all. I mean, it didn't say anywhere that you had to volunteer information. Generally having info others didn't was what kept you alive and valuable, so this was much less lying and closer to good sense when you thought about it. Having secrets meant having a chance, really. And he had been raised to know when you had a chance and how to use it.

The boy rested his hands and read over his letter carefully before signing it, checking it over for its natural voice and flow as well as grammar. No specifics, just "the Temple" and "the Order" to refer to his new allegiences. Mostly, he talked about the people. Iilo would like Maki, and Mehtne would be amused by his new master. Yes, there were a few avoidances of the truth, but for the most part it was an honest letter.

Demarr signed it, sent it, and sighed. He wished he were going home for a little while too.