Briscoe Jenkins was concealed in the Force. He would not abide the chance of anyone finding him after so long successfully hiding. Whether or not his summoned guest displayed any prowess with the Dark Side or the Light, Briscoe could not be too careful.
The docking bay specified was vacant. There were construction materials strewn about, hanging wires, exposed metal frames, and overall a feeling of incompleteness. Standing a few dozen yards away from the only functioning landing pad was a tall figure with long dark grey fabric draping from its body. The figure was tall. Very tall. No visible limbs, just tal pillar of body with a slight narrowing near the hip region, softly sloped shoulders, and a cowled head with only the chin visible from the blackness within.
The chin was false, of course. The entire face was false. A mesh structure against his face with synthflesh stretched over it. None of his natural features were visible and it moved as real as if it were his own face though it did feel odd, like a rubber glove stretched over his skin.
"Do you rule the Force or serve it?" were the first words out of Briscoe's mouth when Allard appeared. His voice was masked, pitched a couple octaves higher than usual and given a raspy undertone.