Altair had no such problems with the gore, though his steps were light- his movements weren't so much those of what one might consider a proper prideful Sith, so much as the practiced ease of a trained assassin, used to moving about unheard. Unseen too, though he wasn't doing any of that now. He'd worn his white and gold outfit for a reason, knowing it would catch an enemy's eye before Eli ever did.

And even if Eli hadn't froze, Altair would have held a hand out to stop him.

He could hear them. He could sense life ahead. And he was immediately wary.

Altair tilted his head back toward Eli slightly- looking to him to decide whether they moved forward, or whether they took a more cautious approach. If it were Grysks, he was more experienced than him- he assumed. Of course, if it were Grysks, then Altair would have to curb his desire to turn them into nothing but a smear on the walls, much like what had been done to the humans who had been aboard the freighter.