Hera slows her pace as they step among the stalls. Her eyes lower, as she watches the tables. They pass cans of protein, rendered fruits and vegetables, precious slender vials of moisture, scratched up plate armor, power converters, chargers for blasters, chipped bits of old junk, datatapes of copied holos, a few displayed from small projectors - marching flitting podracers, marching Stomrtoopers, a dancing Twi'lek.

She takes her time turning among the rows of stalls, not apparently looking for anything particular, but finally, she halts, turning to one of the stalls with no awning above to lend it shade. Laid out along the table, each item equidistant from the others, are spare droid pieces. Spare locomotion power cells, servo-couplers, neurocircuits and cooling cables.

Hera reaches over the table, lifting a miniscule, circular photoreceptor from the table and holding it up to the light, before she looks to the vendor. There's a Duros woman dusting off a clasper arm, and a younger girl sorting objects among boxes under the table.

"For an old mosquito droid." Hera lets the lens topple into the palm of her hand. "Don't see many of these anymore."

The Duros looks up, her large eyes turning between Hera and Kanan. "Separatist tech. Not much demand for it, but some rebuild them to use for farming or maintenance."

"Could be useful to us," Hera says, with a nod. "We've got some hollowed out shells, but I've never found neurocenters small enough to use with them."

The woman sets down the arm with a clank. "I'll show you what I've got in the back."