Private Dark Side Gains

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano

While sitting in silence, one of Naamino's comments from earlier still lingered in his mind. He twirled a leafy green around his fork, staring at it like it possessed the secrets to his existence. It wasn’t food. It was fuel. It was also their galaxy’s gift passed on through time, so that while he was on some giant rock in space, he could sit here and enjoy it. It was a lot to process, but at least the boy was feeling pretty open to the different possibilities tonight.

Bite after bite was shoved into his mouth. The flavors stretched out. Somewhere in the mix, his fingers traced a pattern at the edge of the plate, finding himself in deep contemplation.

After downing half the glass of water in a single gulp, Lysander found his tongue once more.

“I think you're right. We’re just floating,” he stated simply. “Like, really floating. But if you think about it too hard.. it kinda messes with you. Like.. gravity. Yeah, gravity’s just.. a rule, you know? Just holding us down like one of the boys. That means it's part of the bro code.”

Blinking slowly, he let the eating utensil hover midair. His droopy eyes widened a bit, darting back to Naamino. “But what if it decides to let go one day? What then?” A pause followed, and the teen’s voice lowered. “Bro, we could get thrown from this rock any second. Just.. whooooosh. Fethin’ gone just like that. Straight to the Netherworld. Or even worse, the Core Worlds.” His body shuddered. “I’d rather get eaten by a Nexu or somethin’ before going to that place.”

One of the violet pods was dipped into some kind of sauce he didn’t even remember grabbing from the buffet line earlier. Whatever it was, it was amazing and really enhanced the experience here at the steakhouse.

After devouring another morsel, he simply allowed his musings to drift wherever. Eventually, the blonde blinked at the small red-green card. Recalling the instructions from earlier, the green side was placed up, then given an overly optimistic flick, causing it to spin around. A chuckle rumbled from Lysander's throat.

Then, as if summoned by the cards unspeakable power, a server appeared.

The giant skewers were glistening. Thick cuts of sirloin were expertly stacked. The juices dripping off were surely some kind of divine offering.

He just stared, completely captivated, and the server hesitated, awaiting some kind of confirmation.

But the acolyte just existed in a state of trance, admiring the cut of protein.

Seconds passed, and the server appeared concerned

“Yeah, you can like.. stop, man. That’s a lot of food.”

Slumping back into the chair, he exhaled slowly and reached for a knife. It cut through the succulent steak with ease, and he stared for a heartbeat longer; it was medium-rare, his favorite, undoubtedly a blessing from the cosmos. A glance shot towards the Zabrak as the flavors overwhelmed his palate. “Have ya ever thought about how banthas and nerfs are pretty much walking steaks for us? Crazy.”

Amidst his scattered thoughts, the mention of the Core Worlds moments ago brought someone to mind: Corazona von Ascania . Searching for his datapad and hoping not to appear rude in front of his training partner, he quickly snapped a photo and sent it to his sister through the HoloNet.

Hi Coco. There’s something I thought you should know. This steak? It’s like tasting the Force. I came up with that by the way. But hear me out. If the Jedi Council knew about this? Bro. All the wars in the galaxy would totally stop. There wouldn’t be any need for lightsabers. You guys could finally experience the peace you spend so much time searching for! We’d all just be vibing over quality food.

P.S I hope you’re having steak too! I want that for you. I want you to have the best.

And of course Mr. Makko too. But that would also mean leaving you.. sooo it’s a good thing he’s blind!

Also, your superior younger brother misses you. Sometimes.

When I'm not too busy being awesome.

Message sent, he looked down at the empty plate. “Definitely ready for round two.”

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Meticulously stacked bites, careful dipping of layered meat and vegetable into mind-blowing sauces, all with a general sense of meditative intensity. The zabrak was lost in his own little world for a time, but eventually Lys' musings pulled him from his satiating reverie.

A sudden snort and bark of laughter escaped him at the blonde's ludicrous concerns about gravity bro loosing his hold on them, as well as the jab at the Core Worlds. Naami didn't add words to that particular train of thought but nodded his horned head sagely, as if his companion might be on to something.

Naami was similarly captivated by the waiter's harrowing journey through stages of confusion and worry as they carved meat onto Lysander's plate. When the stoned teen finally gave the word to stop, the zabrak solemnly nodded that he wanted a serving as well. Together, the Sith students cleared the skewer and left the server even more baffled than before.

“Have ya ever thought about how banthas and nerfs are pretty much walking steaks for us? Crazy.”

"Sure— but when I've thought that it's usually followed up with the question of 'How many creatures out there think I'm just a walking meal?' Y'know what I mean, cuz I bet Nexu and Tuk'ata and like… half the Sithspawn I've ever heard of probably think I'd taste great with ketchup."

The zabrak lapsed into companionable silence, honing back in on the glorious meal in front of him while Lysander von Ascania tapped away on his datapad. Naami found himself deep in thought by the time the human returned to the present moment with him. He grunted in agreement about a second plate, shifting in his seat with a sigh and a big stretch.

"Hey you write to that girl a lot, yeah? Does… is that like part of uh— dating?"

He asked with no small amount of awkwardness as the last ripples of his big flexing, stretch left him. Naami was thinking of Leshanna Dromar , recalling the clarification offered by his buddy Haro Aven regarding the pursuit of more time with the girl, and wondering how he might address his own lack of experience with such matters. Maybe Lysander had some wisdom to pass on, despite the zabrak still feeling a bit guarded discussing such matters with him.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano | Sibylla Abrantes

At the dinner table, he was generally much more reserved--each bite, was a display of grace, and each word was carefully chosen, drilled into him from childhood on Ukatis. Etiquette was etched into his soul long before he ever became aware of the Force. Tonight, all of that was gone. Between devouring the juicy cuts from the skewer, musing aloud with different absurdities, and allowing the most random theories to become entangled in his brain, he was anything but an aristocrat.

Lysander couldn't contain his laughter any longer, the sound bursting forth in a wave of rich, genuine mirth that drew the stares of surrounding tables. His half-lidded gaze, already heavy with a dreamy softness, narrowed even further as he savored the moment. "Brooo. Ketchup? Totally a condiment of the dark side," he murmured, his voice warm but slow, paired with a lazy grin. "It’s like.. red, ya know? Pretty much a signature color for the Sith Order." Glancing down at the card, he felt some newfound power coursing through him, as if the item were weaving tendrils further up his arm, begging to summon its magnificent power once more.

The green side was now up.

His attention fell upon the Zabrak. “I dunno man, ain’t no big ass jungle kitty about to snatch me up like that.. not without a fight” The boy then glanced down to his fingers, inspecting them like some kind of rare Sith artifact instead of nails. He allowed the lighting to hit them just right; obviously, they desired admiration. Once satisfied with that, while also gathering the scattered thoughts, he then dragged it like a comb through his hair. “I’m definitely something more exquisite than a Nuna nugget. I’m like..” Lysander’s emerald eyes began to glitter with mischief. "I'm Krayte dragon with yellow.. or golden curry! Warm, spicy to those who are weak.. a creature with many layers. They wouldn't be able to go back to a boring Nuna after me. No way!" He then attempted to lock gazes with his workout partner. "Tell me I'm wrong bro."

Like a specter, the next server manifested out of nowhere, but moving with caution as he glanced between both of them. He was carrying a platter piled with smoked Kaadu ribs.

The timing was perfect, as he didn’t even feel like getting up from his seat; there was just too much comfort going on. With a slow exhale, he waved a hand. "Yeh, we’ll take all of those, man. Just leave them here."

As the server walked off, he looked up just in time to catch him whispering something to a co-worker. The same person, then paused briefly, and cast a quick scan at their table.

He didn’t think much of it. Given that they were still in gym apparel, chances were they were just admiring their undeniable gains or something.

What really mattered was they had more food.

When Naamino's next question landed, it left him staring at his empty plate. His fingers idly traced along the datapad. "Well, it should be yeah. I think. But not every bard gets a princess. Sometimes they're just idiots that like to sing about it."

His words stalled for a few seconds. "You ever write to Leshanna? You should try sending poetry sometime. It hits different"

Leaning back, he took one of the ribs onto his plate, tapping his hand against the edge of their table. “It’s like these… slow cooked to perfection. All you have to do is take your raw feelings, chop them up so they simmer.. Uhh, preferably with longing instead of regret. Then you just let them sit.. and it kind of turns into magic. And when they’re ready, you just serve it up, Nammino, and they’ll most definitely feel the warmth.”

With a swipe, sauce streaked across the screen. He pulled up his message thread with Sibylla, then placed the device down between himself and Naami.

Small

But never one to be underestimated

Fierce

In a way that makes people reconsider their decisions

A warrior armed in wit

Spear in hand

Your eyebrows

Can do math

Sharp enough to cut

You clearly own the forest

Or just Dee'ja Peak

Ms. Abrantes

You are an Ewok

After sending the message, he nudged it closer to the other Sith. "Your turn, Naameh. Let's see what you can cook up for Lesh."

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

"Mm."

The noise came from deep within the back of his throat, a rumbling acknowledgment at Lysander likening himself to some great beast. He was haughty and proud, as Naami might expect from a nobleman.

His research on the Von Ascania house at the behest of Elmindra had turned up much to be distasteful of, at least as far as the zabrak was concerned. But he was a mere commoner, a talented ranch hand who'd manage to test into greatness and Lysander was expected to be notable from the moment of birth. Naamino hadn't been born holding a silver spoon like the boy across from him, for better or worse. Still… here and now, the blonde seemed incredibly relatable— he'd even shown Naamino an almost unexpected sense of camaraderie.

The zabrak registered Lys' exchange with the server coolly, his hazy expression making it obvious that he slipped further into contentment with every moment that passed. A thought sparked only as the server began to move away, and Naami cleared his throat to interject as politely as he could manage.

"Could we also get a big pitcher of water, and a plate of those charred luna bulbs?"

Their conversation moved on as the server left and Naami watched as the human answered him in what felt like a series of riddles. Bloodshot, even icier looking eyes traced the teen's keystrokes as he explained the art of speaking to someone that had earned the esteemed rank of being like liked.

Shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat at the idea of sending Leshanna such frivolous worldplay, the zabrak let silence hang in the air between them a while longer. Considering the data pad set between them, Naami reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his own device. Hesitantly he pulled up a draft message, not yet addressing it to Leshanna Dromar for fear that a slip of the fingertips would send something before he was fully committed.

Words tend to fail me where actions provide,
while things I want to say flee sporadically from mind.
Your eyes upon me, enough to freeze me in place,
makes me wonder how I once lived without knowing the shape of your face.

With hair like the darkest of nights,
and sapphire eyes impossibly bright:
Lesh, I'd happily lose hours in conversation with you,
and when the sun rises I'll wish it weren't true.

You make me wonder if the Force would let me freeze time,
if that kind of power could be mine.
All in the pursuit of the most beautiful girl I know,
all in the hope that my words will convey what I've been trying to show.

The teen took many minutes composing the message, slowly sneaking bites off his plate as he did. Sluggish gaze fixed on the screen while he painstakingly put thought to data pad. Eventually, he straightened up in his seat a bit and looked with somewhat suspicious eyes across the table at Lysander von Ascania as if he was already prepared for criticism.

Naami relented and set the device between them, beside the human's, so they could both read what he'd drafted up. With no small amount hesitation, the zabrak gruffly asked.

"So... Is that- uh, anything like what you mean?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano

Glaze coated his fingers while savoring each bite, gnawing at it carelessly, waiting for the galaxy to deliver another cosmic truth. His eyes fluttered half-shut, the flavor overwhelming his senses in constant waves. Any glances from nearby tables faded away as he sank further into his seat--almost detached from existence itself.

Every rib that passed through his hands was eventually stripped clean. The sauce clung to his lips too. And instead of wiping it away properly with a napkin, he simply licked it off.

Through it all, Lysander studied Naamino occasionally, noting the sudden silence from the boy. In his experience thus far, the herbs had two effects on people: some became chatty, while others preferred contemplation.

When the Zabrak's voice cut through the haze, speaking to the waiter about ribs and water, Lysander offered an affirming nod--one that was like saying 'good call'.

His focus drifted lazily as the server moved away.

Ever so slightly leaning forward, his pupils dilated as they hungrily devoured every word spilling from the glow of the datapad. Then, in a sudden moment of realization, like a dagger to the heart, the acolyte's gaze widened, admiration igniting in its depths. The blonde was already convinced that this was a poem imbued with depth and care, painted in a palette with brushstrokes that could leave any recipient awestruck.

Or swooning.

The contrast between their two styles was nearly poetic itself; his own, often shaped by longing, was like a tightrope walk, always careful not to venture too deep into uncharted emotional territory, whereas his workout partners sounded more raw and sincere.

A sly grin curled at the corners of his mouth; there was no hiding his approval, and he didn’t want to either. "Brooo," he drawled, "this is, like.. poetic wizardry. Not gonna lie, part of me thought you were just about lifting weights and stacking plates, but nah.. you totally feel things, dude. You basically just hit me with truths of what I’ve been low-key pondering at the academy."

Ukatis Loth-cat mode fully activated.

There was no going back now.

“If I had a Love Holocron, this would go straight into it. Centuries from now, all Sith would study it.. and instead of lightsaber forms, they'd be trying to master Naameh’s Form, ya know?”

His thumb hovered over the screen, inching closer to the send icon.

The itch to tap was ever present

“I didn’t expect you to cook like this, but I gotta admit.. this chit is straight fire. Respect.”

Then, with a soft touch, the masterpiece would be sent to Leshanna Dromar .

“She’s the one. I already know. The Force is whispering it to me right now.”

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Cautious suspicion, indicated by a tight brow and clenched jaw, soon gave way to faintly bemused though still cautious curiosity. As Lys went on, waxing poetic about Naami's draft message to Leshanna Dromar , the zabrak was faced with increasingly conflicted emotions.

Is this guy being serious right now? He asked himself. Soon though his sluggish mind recalled that the blonde smoked a fair bit more than he did.

Then came the admission, or more likely a joke, that Lysander von Ascania previously assumed Naami was just another muscle-bound idiot. The horned teen raised one dark brow, eyes darting from his companion's face to the screen and back again as if to assess the truth of Lys' admiration for his writing. Just when the surly teen looked as if he might interject, one particular word suddenly shook him to his core.

Love
​

And the context in which it was used certainly contributed to the very abrupt sense of uncertainty that flooded through him. That implication alone, the thought that Naami's feelings went deeper even than a crush, would have been enough to get under his skin. But to have it thrown out there so casually and delivered with such a sense of confident solidarity? It was enough to rattle Naami visibly.

Eyes wide, tapered ears pinning back faintly, and with his initial response arrested, as if he'd lost the air needed to produce words- Naamino Zuukamano was stunned still and silent for a long moment.

Then abashed eyes fell to the datapad as he turned it fully back toward himself. That icy gaze had temporarily melted away to reveal a soul that felt deeply indeed, but the disconcerted zabrak soon realized the ruse.

All at once, his nostrils flared, the cutlery clutched in his offhand bent with groan of protesting metal, and Naami gave an angry bark.

"WHAT THE KARK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!"

The restaurant around them quieted, customers and servers alike flashed nervous eyes and whispered to one another. The zabrak immediately realized his mistake, and visibly took a deep breath through a scrunched nose, teeth gritted in a silent snarl. He loosened the fist from around the ruined fork and it clattered to the table softly.

Panicked eyes considered his screen again before rising with no small amount of ire behind them. Naami leaned forward and spoke in a hushed, gruff whisper while seemingly every muscle in his body was taut with frustration. He couldn't afford to create even more of a scene, and he certainly couldn't get away with smacking the ever loving chit out of the teen across from him.

"Why in all the hells would you do that? Dude, I asked for your feedback- that wasn't even... what if there was a typo? Or... Or- I dunno, but you shouldn't've fethin' done that!"

What if she laughs at me? What if she hates it? Maybe its not good enough... Maybe I'm not good enough.

The silent downward spiral, those unspoken insecurities had a way of worming into his mind and rioting his anger further. The setting though, the fact that he was still a bit hazy from smoking, that he was so satiated from a dinner Lysander was treating him to were all factors that played into Naami reigning in the instinct to strike out.

He schooled his breathing and unclenched his jaw further, but still glared expectantly at his companion. Naami's eyes occasionally flickered back to the datapad, seeking any indication of imminent reply.

 

[Leshanna Dromar]

Meanwhile…Somewhere Inside A Common Area Within Kor’ethyr….


It was rare that Lesh found herself just sitting around doing next to nothing, flipping through various screens on her holodevice as she snuggled into the side of Haro Aven , a warm and welcome presence keeping her company within one of the common rooms scattered around the Academy. She had picked this particular one because it was rarely visited by others, and she was happy to spend a few secluded and private moments with one of her boys.

Of course, never far from her mind was the other half of the Trio - Naamino Zuukamano . She wondered what he was up to for the day, as she hadn’t heard much from him. She knew he had been planning to spend some time with the blonde acolyte, Lysander von Ascania - but she wasn’t sure if they were still out doing their own thing or not. She hoped he was having a good time; knowing that he was happy and content made her happy and content.

Lesh glanced upwards at Haro’s roguishly handsome face for a moment and smiled; both of them made her so happy, and she couldn’t imagine her life without both of them being there. She was about to say something cute and lovey-dovey to the half Kage teen, when she felt her device buzz in her hand and chime with an incoming message. Her dark blue eyes flickered to the screen, and she noticed with some mild surprise that she had a message from Naami. Without hesitation, she tapped on the message to open it up and read whatever it was he had sent to her.

Words tend to fail me where actions provide,
while things I want to say flee sporadically from mind.
Your eyes upon me, enough to freeze me in place,
makes me wonder how I once lived without knowing the shape of your face.

With hair like the darkest of nights,
and sapphire eyes impossibly bright:
Lesh, I'd happily lose hours in conversation with you,
and when the sun rises I'll wish it weren't true.

You make me wonder if the Force would let me freeze time,
if that kind of power could be mine.
All in the pursuit of the most beautiful girl I know,
all in the hope that my words will convey what I've been trying to show.


Leshanna read the message…then read it again…and again. Only then did it properly click with her that her stoic Zabrak had sent her….a love poem?! And as she read it yet again, it truly settled within her heart that he felt as strongly for her…as she did for him - even if he had a hard time revealing it in person. This beautiful poem told her everything she needed to know, and the fact that she would do anything for him for as long as they both remained in each other’s lives.

“Oh…my Force. Haro!” she practically squealed, sitting up suddenly and turning around to face him, her eyes wide and her expression that of shocked awe. “...Were you aware that Naami is a freaking poet?!” She question him, her eyes growing brighter with growing glee and awe as she looked back at the message and read it again, this time aloud so Haro could hear it too, and she fell quiet afterwards for a few moments as she tried to wrap her mind around just how precious and adorable her Zabrak could be. Her heart raced within her chest as she considered just how much she truly cared for the young warrior.

“What…what do I even say in response?! I have to respond back to him! I can’t leave him on ‘read’. He’d go insane from worry or think I like hated it or something…”

She bit her lower lip, trying to decide what to do next, before she looked back at her device and opened up the reply option and began to type up her response:

Naami…you never cease to amaze me. I am…speechless right now. This is the most beautiful poem I’ve ever read...you are SUCH a romantic.

Like…is all this...how you really feel?? About me??


…..You really think I’m beautiful??

Shaking, she tapped the ‘Send’ icon, and watched with elated anxiousness as the message was sent back to Naami. She then glanced over at Haro, her eyes wide and still full of her surprise and awe at the poem, before she looked back at the screen and waited with growing anticipation to see if Naami had received her message.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naamino Zuukamano | Leshanna Dromar​

As the blonde acolyte's attention rested on Naamino, the currents of the Force in the air around them began to prickl, sharp as tiny needles against his exposed skin. Like the food before him, the stillness in the air could be tasted, signaling something lurking right beneath the surface. As the medicinal herbs nudged his thoughts into a slower orbit, Lysander continued wearing a mask of calm, both hands now resting on the table.

His breathing remained slow and measured.

Or, at least, it was the kind of calm when the brewing tension was possibly preparing to engulf you.

When the Zabrak's voice rose suddenly, there was an involuntary tug, his fingers tracing the thin, faded scar over his eyebrow; now, it was a souvenir from his training partner. The gesture felt grounding in the moment, oddly connecting their chaotic past to what now felt like a new trial.

While he was fairly confident in his ability to defuse the situation, it was laced with a cold sense of anticipation, the type that was often followed by conflict.

"Alright, alright.. calm down, bro," he slurred, meanwhile sinking his teeth into another rib without missing a single beat. Every chew was rhythmic in the stripping of meat from the bone, buying himself time to gather the fragments of what often made him more rational.

Another cleaned bone was tossed onto the plate. "Look, bro, you gotta trust me. I mean, you trust me to spot you at the gym when you've got, like, hundreds and hundreds of pounds over your chest. This? This ain't much different," he rationalized, shaking his head. "Besides, if I hadn't taken care of that little poem problem for you, you'd be dragging the damn thing around with you until you're in the grave. Almost like heavy emotional deadlifts you could say, for real. And man.. being weighed down?" His sauce-covered finger tapped the plate thoughtfully. "It really sucks."

The waiter returned to their table as if summoned by command, refilling their glasses with grace; his manner alone suggested they were in an upscale establishment.

He paused just long enough so the words could settle. "My guy, I've seen this on, like, five different holodramas. Girls never say no to poetry. It's got, like, a hundred percent success rate."

Lysander slowly leaned back into his chair, the stretch of silence hopefully enough to solidify his argument. "It's practically science."

A beat passed. "And bro.. I pretty much wrote the manual."

There was a slow nod, like a student who'd once written a thesis on this very subject, and was now watching it unravel.

The line of his jaw cut through the dim lighting as he quickly drained the refilled glass with one deep inhale. Given his current state, it washed over him like a blessing from Bogan.

And as he exhaled, a more mellow smile blossomed.

One that was a bit too calculated.

Then, the nearby datapad suddenly flashed; his emerald gaze flickered to life, delayed, like the mischief was waking up from a nap of its own. "Bet ya that's Lesh," he muttered, though in truth there was a sliver of doubt whispering in his ear. After all, with the beautiful poetry he had just read, it was possible that the other acolyte was the silent type, schemin' with backups elsewhere. "See, bro? That was almost instant. Nobody replies that fast unless it's good news."

Eventually, the boy resumed eating; he was half chewing, half serious. He was also consumed by the heightened joy of both sauce and bone. "If you're still thinking to end me or somethin', let me finish this rib first.. and at least tell the galaxy I went out vibing."

 

[Haro Aven]

Haro lounged in the common room, the lovely Leshanna Dromar tucked close against him, feeling like the luckiest guy in the galaxy. The normally energetic teen was uncharacteristically relaxed, content to chill after spending much of their precious alone time together exploring the new and very exciting privilege of making out with the beautiful raven haired girl. Still, he was unable to remain entirely still and his cuddle buddy could feel the faint rhythmic twitch of his heel bobbing against the floor.

One of his arms was draped around her, his fingers absently tracing little circles into the soft skin of her arm, while his free hand scrolled his own datapad. His Chill Vibes playlist played through his ear phones, one of which was in his own ear and the other was in Lesh’s. He met her eyes as she gazed up at him and returned her smile warmly, gently squeezing her arm. Idly, he wondered what she was thinking and if she might be interested in continuing where they’d left off earlier while they still had some time to kill, but something on her datapad caught her attention. Curiously, he glanced down to see what looked like a message notification from Naamino Zuukamano . Feeling just a little naughty for peeking, he watched her open the surprisingly long message. He’d never received more than a few words from his buddy via text.

Despite his burning curiosity, he decided it would be wrong to read her private messages over her shoulder like that so he shifted his gaze back to his own datapad and tried to focus on what he was doing before. She seemed utterly entranced by the message before she suddenly sat up and squealed, the earphone tumbling out of her ear at the sudden movement.

"Oh…my Force. Haro!"
"What? What?" He asked, alarmed and somewhat concerned, as he sat upright.
"... Were you aware that Naami is a freaking poet?!"
"... What?" He repeated, this time baffled.

By the time she finished reading him the poem, his jaw had dropped open. He blinked a couple times in disbelief. For a moment, he wondered if Naami’s datapad had been sliced. Wasn’t he suppose to be hanging out with Lysander von Ascania right now? Maybe the mischievous blonde had stollen his datapad and sent the message as a prank? Or maybe Naami really was a poet, and a damn good one at that. Haro schooled his expression. The last thing he wanted was to seed doubts in Leshanna’s head, especially when she was being adorable and clearly very excited about it.

"Huh... I had no idea.” But a part of him wasn't that surprised. Despite how Naami tried to hide it, Haro knew the boy felt things much more deeply than he let on.

A warm smile crept onto his face as he watched her fuss about what to say back.

“Oh, for sure. Can’t just leave him hangin after that. Just tell him how much you love it." He offered excitedly.

He was definitely looking forward to asking Naami about this later.​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Nostrils flaring, offhand clenching and unclenching, Naamino listened to the blonde across from him. But just barely. He was very nearly deaf from frustration and anxiety for those few long minutes that Lysander spoke and Leshanna Dromar had yet to answer.

The buzz and sudden brightness of the screen were enough to call off the teen's ire, like a master recalling hounds. Naami opened the message even as his companion continued. Ice blue eyes flicked across the screen, tapered ears seemed to faintly twitch again, then his gaze rose to coolly consider the nobleman before him.

Even as her sweet and excited message settled into his mind, the zabrak was focused on more than just the promise of a quick response— he recognized that his peer was perhaps a veritable treasure trove of information on dating. Haro Aven had of course been helping Naami gather such information, but the two of them were both still figuring this out as they went.

"What else is in this manual of yours then? I've gotta admit that… this is all pretty new to me."

His voice was low and calm, though his gaze hadn't lost its intensity. Naami seemed to belatedly realize how dry his mouth felt and reached for his own water glass. Hearts still hammering away from the jolt moments before, the teen felt newly reassured that he had not in fact ruined everything with a poem and that Lysander von Ascania might actually be trying to help.

Once his glass was empty, the zabrak listened to whatever other wisdom his peer might share and slowly started to type a reply back. Slowly being the operative word, and on Leshanna's end it was likely that the "typing" indicator was present for a deceivingly long time.