Don't.

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge groaned quietly, the bomb next to his bed incessantly beeping down the seconds to his demise. His brilliant, bloody demise. Sleep encroached on the edges of his mind, a fog draping itself over the valleys of his thoughts.

But as the haze began to lift - AND THAT INSIPID BEEPING CONTINUED - he realized that, perhaps, this wasn't a bomb.

It was merely his stupid karking datapad.

Rolling onto his side, eyes protesting against being opened so early in the... what time was it?

He resisted the urge to groan again when he realized he could still be sleeping for another couple of hours. A couple of hours he desperately needed anymore. His life had been on a steady decline and now here he was, waking up hours early for what?



....oh.



Someone had an interest in his whereabouts.

Part of his skillset as a spook was bugging computer systems, and he'd done that with any Republic systems capable of accessing his aliases and files there. Or, rather, figuring out who was trying to access them from where.

Rolling onto his back and silently thankful to have an empty bed for once, he blinked away the fact the light of the pad was hurting his eyes and settled back, tapping away commands at a rapidfire pace.

Whoever it was; they'd been Protectorate.

Not too many Protectorate cared for Republic casualty figures - what a strange thing to try to find him....


Ayden? No, Ayden couldn't give a mynock's defecation about his alive/dead status. Hell, the man had barely batted an eye when he'd been presumed dead on Dagobah.

But there was one person who hadn't.

Snorting, he sent back a simple, easy response.

Naboo. Lake Country.

She'd know. And if it wasn't her... well, what would they care?

 

[Cira]

He always has the worst timing.

No, he always has perfect timing. The perfect timing to be a pain in the ass. In this instance, in the form of a slight low beeping sound coming from on top of her night stand. It was her datapad, alerting her of an incoming message.

Pale rays of light had barely begun to creep it's way across the open balcony, the night still hiding the withering dawn as a faint breeze would gently lift the flowing vine-silk curtains hanging from the ceiling. The cool air would rush across the chamber, until it hit the bare form of the woman under a sheet of blankets, rustling the loose length of voluminous hair away from her face as she rested on her side. Her upper torso would lift slightly as an arm went extending to reach for the datapad, fingers encircling it’s familiar shape and weight.

A rustle of sheets and a shift of her body would follow, as sensitive eyes would naturally skin-shift to adjust to the bright light of its display screen, her fingers deftly sweeping over it; only to promptly freeze.

// Naboo. Lake Country.

That was all.

Naboo. Lake Country. Her eyes went flickering over towards that open balcony, over the reflection of the morning light dancing across a crystal blue lake. It was enough to cause her stomach to drop and the pulse at her throat pick up. Only the knowledge that this reply was in regards to an earlier inquiry did her alarm ease. But let’s be frank, considering her current location to be out of sight and out of mind while she collaborated with Linna to get her story straight for the Media, it was only natural for someone as private as her to freak out over the possibility that her former bodyguard and now AWOL Jedi Master decided to track her down.

It would fit Sarge’s humor to simply say those three words as a reminder that while she could hide, he had an uncanny ability to find her.

Thankfully, this was not the case. Small miracles.

However, it also brought to mind just how things... ended. Heat flushed her face. Enter small grimace. Idiot.

She tossed the datapad onto the bed, a medley of mixed emotions rushing through her as she sat up in her bed, glaring at the bright display screen with those mocking three words staring at her.

Naboo. Lake country. Hah!

A voice went nagging in the back of her mind that reminded her of the mission briefing during the Pyre’s aide of the reigning Queen to combat the Bando Gora. In it the small passing murmur of Sarge purchasing a home came to pass in conversation.

Hands soon rose to rub her face as her head sank into them. Ughh…

She was somewhere between relief, concern and annoyance, with a fluttering of anger tossed in; but let’s be honest, she always had a bit of that. Indecision rose. Along with a mighty strong desire to end her stay on Naboo short.

If he was here… Well that didn’t bode well for avoiding the man. Even if she had been making inquires about his state of health. The why’s to it she’d conveniently been sweeping under the rug. Things worked so much better when one didn’t think about them.

Frustration and that wave of angst went rolling through her again to warrant picking up her datapad, her brow furrowed into a scowl. It was encrypted, and chances were she would not be able to trace where exactly the message originated from, not without time. Time she didn’t have.

Awareness. It irked her.

With a short exhale, her lips drew into a thin line. Her fingers rapidly tapped away at a rapid-fire pace, emotion lacing her words.

<< It would figure that you would be so --->> she gave a pause and deleted that. No no.

She began again.

<< Stalking much?>> A pause. No no, he’ll throw that right back at me. Backspace backspace.

No. She bit the fullness of her lip.

Finally, after some thought, she merely typed two fairly harmless words in response to the update on her inquiry. It could end here. Painlessly. Just two fairly harmless words and that would be the end of it.

<< Thank you. >>​

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He rolled back onto his side, the sheets - Force knew he couldn't remember the material - being tugged up by one hand so that only his head lay exposed to the cool air of his home. Air being pumped in by the condinitioning system.

Some people preferred their homes warm, but he preferred it cold. At least at night. The system was programmed to warm up when he was close to waking so it was easier to get out of bed. Already, his mind was calculating how long it would take that message to get to Fondor from here.

If he'd traveled by ship to hand deliver it... a week.

Hypercomm...? Probably closer to a day. It would take at least ten minutes to reach the orbital array before being sent through to Fondor.

He had time to go back to sleep before getting an irritated reply, no doubt remarking on his ability disappear. Closing his eyes, he dreamed that his datapad was beeping again. Opening his eyes as he realized it wasn't a dream, he half expected to find sunlight streaming in through the windows.

But no...

No it had only been a couple of minutes.

A couple... Of minutes...

If that didn't make him sit upright with startling speed, eyes narrowing, he didn't know how else to describe his reaction. An electric current had rushed through his body as awareness had seeped in.

This was uncharacteristic of her; giving herself away like this. Reaching for the pad, he pulled it over to him, black eyes glistening with barely restrained humor as he read the very characteristic message. And she probably thinks she's getting out of this.

Inhaling, and laughing quietly with a shake of his head as he pictured the irritation on her face, he settled his back against the headboard. Typing away methodically, he couldn't hide his smirk.

A smirk she'd no doubt picture upon reading this.

Youre on Naboo... aren't you.

She probably wouldn't be much longer.

But it brought to mind how people always questioned his ability to be right. If he was now, he couldn't safely say it was his gut reaction to things. He simply knew what was right. What was wrong. Even if he couldn't fully quantify it.

But if he was wrong...? Oh well. Not like he cared. He took the leap of faith on a regular basis. It typically paid off.

Usually with a very, very irritated ex-Lady Protector.

 

[Cira]

The data pad had been tossed to the side of her bed, sinking into the sea of bedsheets as Cira went flopping onto her back, her hair spreading out in a fan across her pillow as she gave a weary exhale.

This is good. she’d mused to herself, her fingers lightly gesticulating at her sides as if presenting in one of her holo-lectures back at S.A.A.T.

I made an inquiry. It was answered. Yeah she was starting to feel good about herself again, her shoulders rotating a bit as she sank deeper into her bed, giving a series of slight subtle nods in her little self pep talk.

No need to push it any further… my curiosity is sated. It’s just another employee and I’m only concerned about their well being. It’s only natural. Perfectly natural! There came the series of seemingly logical reasonings on why she would even be concerned in the first place. Oh her natural curiosity of things. How she was over protective of those under her care. How she had to make sure that things moved smoothly, and had to be organized, and that the Son of a Mynock wasn’t the only one she kept tabs on. There was Jorus and Alna, Tegaea and Siobhan, Karen…

It was normal. Normal. Yes. Nothing more to it. Fine all perfectly --

The light tinkling sound of a new alert in her datapad broke that train of thought, the display illuminating the fading darkness of the withering dawn.

At this distance she didn’t need to pick it up to read it. The five aurabesh words were clear. Crystal. The pit of her stomach sank.

<<You’re on Naboo... aren't you.>>


Blast it!

She slipped; again. And just like that, her false sense of rationalized balance and peace went out window. Or in this case, her balcony.

She sat up straight, cool air hitting warm bare skin as the bedsheets went fluttering to her waist. A hand deftly went plucking the physical representation of that no good-smug-son-of-a-mynock to bring it closer. Long legs drew in to bend at the knee as her head dipped a bit, glowering at the small display screen, her gold eyes reading over and over that same blasted sentence. Her head was quick to throb, the corner of her eye starting to twitch as her lips drew into a thin straight line.

Oh she could just picture the look on his face too! Again she read it over. You’re on Naboo. --ellipses -- aren’t you.

Fething ellipses!? It was right there! Those three little dots that she knew he meant to convey his smart aleck response. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone?! Didn’t even have to reply to it! It wasn’t even a question. But a statement. Assurity.

Ugggggh!

Nostrils flaring, she quickly began to tap a reply only to pause. No… no… you are better than this. Calm breaths. Just breath, she told herself, her fingers and shoulders gesticulating that little self pep talk again. Keep your cool.

Simple reply. Don’t fall for his games. Just leave it at that.

So after about five minutes -- and a few choice curse words in fifteen different languages piled over Sarge’s head -- she finally sent the following response.

<< Yes.>>

There was no denying it. Denying it would mean he would reply back. Meaning continuing this conversation. One she really didn’t want to continue, more especially because she was kicking herself mentally at her slip. He had that uncanny ability to find that chip in her armor and lay to waste centuries of a tempered nature, making her revert to the lack of tact and discipline in her youth.

“The blasted ass!” came the low curse ripping from her mouth as she sent the bed sheets flying from her legs with a flick of her wrist, long bare legs sliding over to the edge of the bed.

Might as well get up. She wasn’t going to be going back to sleep any time soon.

You’re on Naboo... aren't you.

Not for long.

Granted, Linna would likely have an entire datastick of memos on why that would be a horrible idea. Something about being low key in the Outer Rim, getting her story straight, and allowing the upcoming war between the One Sith and the Republic to tone down the murmurs of her return and even more boggling disappearance.

In the midst of it all, there was also an idle thought in the rear of her mind, a small voice that would nag in her ear much to her discontent on the notion that if he was still able to get a rise out of her at the present day, it certainly confirmed that he wasn’t dead.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Funny how a simple, terse conversation like this out a grin on his face. It was mostly because he was having far too much fun imagining the myriad of languages she was cursing him in. The other, less humorous alternative was that she was on Fondor, at her desk and rolling her eyes.

He preferred to think of her as annoyed and in bed, however.

Throwing his legs over one side of the bed and dragging a palm down his face as sleep encroached on BJs eyes again, the ex-spook gave a low sigh as his mind began to wander idly. It never stuck on anything, just moving through memories and fantasies with the rapidity of a shatter rifle.

He almost didn't register the notification noise this time.

But it finally intruded enough to get him to flop onto his back, eyes staring at the ceiling and a scarred arm reaching back to grab the pad and hold it over his head.

Ah, she was on Naboo. Most... interesting.

He could practically hear the annoyance in the response, and it made him mentally shake his head.

Pausing, he looked at the barely there rays of the sun, knowing true sunrise wasn't for another hour or so. Lake Country wasn't too big...

He typed his response carefully, not sure if this was a good idea.

...Morning swim before you scram?

 

[Cira]

Bare feet had barely come padding to a halt before a large mirror and wash basin when the faint tinkling sound rang from the depths of bed sheets. It’s faint illumination once again glowing in the growing nautical dawn, the barest of objects able to be distinguishable in the first rays of light.

The sound of water would splash as a handful came to wash her face, the cool crisp sensation seemingly bringing the former ex Lady Protector a method of gathering her wits.

Wet spiky lashes would flick open as that insistent tinkling crescendo of light bells would ring from her bed, prompting a damp glare over her bare shoulder as if given to the man himself.

You just can’t leave well enough alone… came her thought, as a small wash cloth was plucked from its perch, rising to pat gently against her face.

She was already mentally reciting and making counter arguments to give to Linna on why it would be in her best interests to leave Naboo. One didn’t get to where she’d been nor founded a government without having a good sense of being able to plead one’s case.

Bare feet silently went padding across the room, towel still lightly patting her cheek, hair pushed back away from her face just prior to pausing at her bedside to lift the datapad from its resting place.

A slow amble would take place as she began to head towards the balcony, coming to a halt just alongside a vine covered pillar, her eyes narrowing upon the reply drifting across the display screen.

Fingers went curling tightly over the damp cloth in response. What was that supposed to mean? A hundred different questions went flying through her mind as she tried to narrow down just what that one tiny query meant.

There was no denying that it was a question, but what was the context of it? Was he taunting her? Trying to stir her up? He clearly knew that she would not linger on Naboo for long.

Another thought came to her and she spun on the pad of her right foot, pacing just in front of the balcony.

...Or was he actually inquiring instead? A most obscure train of thought followed at the ridiculousness of that as she mused, an invitation?

That was enough of a tangent to cause her to come to an abrupt halt, spinning on the pad of her foot as her gaze rose from the datapad to the lake. Two seconds passed.

No no… no… nonononononono no. No!

That couldn’t be it! He wouldn’t! No, it had to be that he was trying to get a rise out of her, knowing that she would make quick accommodations to leave the planet as soon as she found out that he was on the same planet.

A gust of wind went lifting the tips of her hair to brush across her right cheek and chest, reminding her of the approaching dawn, rays of light dancing across the open water. A rather inviting sight for one who had a tendency of waking up at the early morn.

She won’t dwell on the fact that question had merit and the proposal - had it not been sent by him - would have been an excellent idea.

Admitting that would mean he would win; and there was no way she was going to admit that.

With the cool splashing of water against her face brought a level of clarity that would only be heightened further by her morning cup of caf. That had to be it. What she was lacking.

She could blame her irritation on that and the blasted Jedi.

A toss of her towel to a nearby hamper would free her hand, and the steady tapping of digital keys would soon send the following message.

<< No. >>

A good safe answer, regardless of what connotation his question would refer to, she mused to herself, turning on the balls of her feet away from the beckoning sight of the lake.

She would also not linger on the thought that she could have just halted the conversation by not responding at all to begin with.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Standing, naked, black eyes settling upon the gently shifting waters of the lake, he cast his gaze downward to his scarred form. There were moments like this, where he took a moment to realize what he'd done to himself.

Or, at least, what he'd allowed others to do to him.

It always bothered him to see the latticework of burns and wheals. The remnants of one too many Sith sending electricity coursing along his thickly muscled frame brought a faint, if pained, grimace to his face for several moments.

It started at his neck, just above where a collar could cover, and threaded down his chest and arms - stopping just before the halfway point to his elbow. But it continued further, scarring his thighs, leaving him a tapestry of pain.

Sighing, he pushed the thought from his mind, knowing for a fact that the only people who would probably care - women - didn't.

Still, he didn't like it. But such were the prices paid for his occupation.

Or hobbies, if he were going by the two bullet scars angled downward past his shoulderblade. Moving to a dresser nearby, he pulled open a drawer and pulled on a pair of swimtrunks. He hated the water, admittedly.

But it was early, and the morning was too nice to not make something of it. He wouldn't be out there too long, an hour tops. Still, it should be enough to clear his head. Of her. Of him. Of why she needed to avoid him so, or more importantly, avoid herself.

He could even avoid the haunting thoughts of lovers past, some long dead, others still breathing.

Sometimes he couldn't blame Cira for wanting to avoid him.

Other times he couldn't stand it.

But he was drawn from his mind by the beeping of his pad. Turning towards it, knowing a towel was downstairs near the door, he frowned a little but shook his head. It was the answer he expected.

He debated the merits of throwing the pad down and just going himself, but he wasn't going to leave without a parting shot. Another dig into the foundations of the walls she needed around her.

Let me know when you finally let your heart decide.

 

[Cira]

Star Caf.

Sometimes it was the only thing that would steel her nerves for the upcoming day.

It wasn’t fancy by any means. Not the curious new flavours or whatever rad foodie trend or new roast Omega Star Corp promoted. Just gold ol’ stim caf. Black.

She’d been slipping on a robe over her bare form when the tinkling de da da lee came, her datapad resting on top of the counter, her hands slowing in their tying of the loose knot at her waist while that stim caf brewed.

Funny how the most simplest of pleasures could be a constant regardless of time or space.

But even the scent of the brewing liquid wasn’t enough to brace for the next stream of sigils streaming across her datapad’s display.

It even took her a full minute to register it.

<< Let me know when you finally let your heart decide. >>

Out went the simmering anger. In came the puzzled confusion, her brows knitting as she re read the statement.

When you let your heart decide.

Only the sound of brewing caf and the distant lapping of waves against the shore would be heard for another full minute, until the sound of a deep and weary sigh broke the silence. It was then that the conversation she'd been avoiding recalling bloomed in her mind. How it lead up to the volatile conclusion of their last encounter, and she felt a dull ache threatening to rise at the situation at hand.

Hands fell from the ties at her waist and she gently picked up the datapad. Her thumbs quickly went tapping across the display, the growing morning light painting the Nabooian sky in shades of pale blue and peach behind her.

Taptaptap…Tap taptap tap.. tap

<< … Don’t. >>

Don't do this.

Ironic that she didn't take her own advice.

She shouldn’t. But she was just exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. What she would say next would no longer be characteristically terse.

It was the opposite.


<< Concern over that aspect of my life was never part of the equation for job duties. >>

A pause. Then another sentence. Then another.

<< I saw the fall of Coruscant. I was concerned. I put in an inquiry and now I have my response.

You’ve only confirmed that there is very little in the universe that can kill you, so there is no need to inquire further.

I’m sure you have other responsibilities to attend to. I have mine. >>

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

What she was doing this morning, he couldn't know. She could still be in bed. She could be brewing caf. Or she could even just be sitting on a balcony, watching the sunrise as she contemplated how much of a pain he was.

Truthfully, he didn't know why he pressed her so hard.

But perhaps... perhaps he could admit that it was because he wished people would push him.

He was standing at the door, throwing a beach towel over one shoulder, hand lingering on the door handle as the faint chime of his datapad echoed through the empty house. But a house just ain't a home.

For some reason, that old melody steeled his nerves, knowing full well that perhaps what he was doing, while difficult, would do her a measure of good.

A hand reached out to pick up the familiar rectangle of his datapad, alert eyes scanning what she'd sent. And for once, it seemed, she'd opened up. A little.

Just as she'd done on the shuttle. Albeit in a less... violent manner.

I haven't been your employee for a long time, C.

He hit the send button and then moved back to the door, pad in hand. Stepping outside, the crisp morning air settled itself across his skin as he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. The well manicured gardens and lawn of his home lay before him, eliciting a furtherance of that upturn of his mouth.

He continued.

But I'm trying to be as good a friend as I can be. I just want you to open up a little more. Somewhere in your responsibilities, as I've said before, you've forgotten the biggest one; yourself.

Running just makes you tired; we both know how true that is. I'll be in the water if you wish to join, C. Let your hair down a little more. It's just me out here. You and your heart shouldn't be so far apart.

Of course he'd know which of the neighbors were here or not. He didn't know of her neighbors, but he knew that his weren't around. So at the very least, there was always that.

Walking to the waters edge, he set the pad down atop his towel and stood, water lapping at his toes, a smile on his face as he took careful steps into the water until he was up to his neck.

He slipped beneath the surface, expecting a very enraged response when he got around to checking the pad again.

 

[Cira]

Her hand went curling around the neck of her cup of fresh caf, bringing it close to take a nice deep inhale of the addictive brew. It’s steamy warmth and slightly bitter scent did wonders for her nerves, as she took her datapad in one hand and began to amble over towards the balcony.

The sun’s rays were dancing in the morning light, not quite breaking the horizon yet as the sky revealed a sight drizzled with a sprinkling of stars and streaks of pastel colors. She’d just reached the stone carved railing when the first response came in, taking a sip of her caf as she went leaning against it.

C? Where was that coming from? Her brow went furrowing a bit as the hot liquid went down her throat, a bit more mellow now with that Force loving concoction that was stim caf.

Nicknames weren’t her most particularly favorite of terms. Toss into the fact that he only emphasised that he hadn’t been her employee in a while.

Placing her cup down against the wide railing, she quickly sent out the following.

<< Exactly. It doesn’t concern you. >>

Only that as soon as she hit the send, her display lit up again as message after message was delivered.

Slow blink.

Long, long minutes went slipping by as she re-read those words over and over, the sun just starting to break by the time she lifted her gaze. Off in the distance, the chirp of birds welcoming the new morn would echo, a slight breeze would gently rustle the leaves of nearby trees.

It was the start of a beautiful day.

One she then welcomed with a heavy sigh and a shake of her head. Easier said than done, came that inner musing, setting the datapad down to cradle her steaming cup of caf.

Quiet contemplation had its way of wiggling into her mind at times like these. Would it be nice to go out for a swim? Yes. But she’d long since locked away any of those desires for the responsibilities of her duties. As a Disciple of Twilight, she’d been taught that the protection of others comes first. Unknowingly, she’d managed to take upon herself another Force Organization’s self depriving mantra; that of the Jedi.

The irony.


She took another sip of her caf, mulling over things in her mind as she was wont to do in the privacy of solitude, his words managing to weave their way in and make her aware of things she didn’t want to be.

He always had an uncanny ability to do that.

It irked her.

Another sigh fell and she set her cup of caf down, bringing the pad once more into her hands as she sent another message. Maybe it was easier because she didn’t have to look at his face. Maybe it was because she was just weary. But she slowly tapped away the following words.

<< When one is in the position of responsibility, it comes with certain obligations. An obligation to ensure that those within that area of responsibility are protected and defended from those in power who would take advantage of them.

I do what I must; what I have to.

I am not looking for friendship. I am simply ensuring that those under my care are able to sleep comfortably at night.

I have not asked you about your past, the exact details of your relationship with Ayden, nor about your current state of social affairs and how that is respective towards your interactions of others.

I ask that you do the same. >>

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Swimming lazy circles near the shore, Sarge was lost in a world of water. It coursed over his body and through his hair, irritating his eyes a little. They'd always been sensitive, but they were more-so now. He didn't want to imagine what chlorine would do to thwm.

A minor annoyance, really, and hardly a reason to not enjoy the cool morning waters, undisturbed by rich patrons on large boats, carrying on as they were wont to do.

Pausing momentarily, he could hear the familiar tone of a notification and languidly swam back to shore. Stepping from the water and picking up his towel to dry his hands, he hefted the pad and gave a shake of his head.

Her mask was on good this morning.

What responsibilities? The ones you abandoned for nigh on six months?

Were she curious as to how that should be read, it would become evident it was disappointment as she read the rest of his message.

And are you sure you aren't a Jedi, because that's exactly what one of us would say.

The only difference is we take moments to relax. Take in the scenery. Socialize outside our roles and positions. There is a time and place to be a diplomat. A time and place to be a teacher.

There's also a time and a place to be an individual; socialize, take time for you, make time for others - all outside the role you adopt.

But if you wish to keep avoiding that place you may. Just know that you have no control over time.

He was maddeningly philosophical sometimes, even for himself. It made him smirk.

Perhaps he wasn't such a bad Jedi after all.

 

[Cira]

She was halfway through her cup of StarCaf when the datapad began to jingle again. A few seconds later she held that black rectangle in a white knuckle grip.

How dare he?!

She already had enough of her demons to haunt her over the consequences of her choices. How dare he spout out that she needed time to relax and take care of her individual needs?! When she did exactly that as Talia look where it got her?!!

Look where that choice to leave for a dig site in Wild Space left her. How that single choice to get away from it all and destress for a few weeks turned into months. Months where she was held trapped in a Rakatan oubliette, where she toiled to escape. Where she ended up disappearing without a word and the consequences the followed in its wake.

Nostrils flaring, she immediately began typing back, her fingers tapping at an emotionally charged response.

<< How dare you.

You do not know me. So don’t you dare make any assumptions about what I do or don’t do. Don’t preach to me about a time or place. I’m not one of your padawans that has to listen to your philosophical rants.

Abandoned? No. Never. But you are not someone I need to explain myself to. You put in your resignation, and at that time, your concern over my duties, my welfare and that of the Protectorate ended-- case in point, your duty should be to the Jedi Order, as you so conveniently referenced.

So how about instead of trying to aggravate me about ‘time and place’ you do something a bit more productive; like returning to the Order to aide with the war against the Sith now that Coruscant fell.>>

With that, she practically jabbed her finger against the display in her ire. There was a fine trembling going through her as her chest rose and fell with a quickening breath.

Blast him. Blast him to the Nine Corellian Hells.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

If Sarge were aware of how she used different shapes for different facets of her personality, he'd be able to precisely pinpoint her exact problem. Sadly, he was not privy to that sort of information. Sitting on a rock, he cast his gaze across the stilling waters, light reflecting almost painfully from its surface.

Turning his attention back to the pad as black eyes scanned the very irritated - probably angry - words she'd sent back, he snorted.

You should cool off with a swim.

That was his only response; that and his coordinates. Not that he anticipated her coming down. Not now.

Still, even the mightiest of fortresses crumbled before the masons practiced chisel, and he fancied himself being that chisel as he stepped back into the water.

She had a point, truly she did. But he hadn't been anywhere near Coruscant when the attack struck, and thus had no way of getting there in time to affect the outcome of things. Things which were quiet for the moment.

The Jedi were still paying for the mistakes of the Senate branding them warmongers and telling them to cease their aggression against the Sith, so he imagined they were all biding their time until the next attack came.

So, for the moment, he'd enjoy the water.

And the knowledge that somewhere, deep down, Cira was a person... perhaps one he should treat better, but a person nonetheless.

He disappeared beneath the surface.

 

[Cira]

It didn't take a hyperspace scientist to figure out that what he'd sent her were his coordinates. It also didn't take long for him to get a quick and terse reply.

<< No. >>

With that she drank the rest of her caf, pushing away from the stone railing as she gave a last lingering look at the lake. Linna would wake soon, bringing with her the daily report.

Swimming was a luxury she didn't have.

Time and place. All too true. But the time and place were only for the one dubbed Cira.

Not for Talia. Not anymore.

With that lingering thought, she began to make her way from the balcony back to her room, lingering anger in her stride her empty cup dangling from the crook of her finger.