For Pleasure and Profit

[Bethany Haverford]

There was an abrupt shift in his mood from one moment to the next, one that Annie diagnosed as being a product of memory vying with reality. She knew from her own research what had happened to his father and was all too happy to let their conversation to turn back to her. If he wanted to know her-- or, at least, forget himself-- she was happy to oblige him.

"I'm sitting here," she replied cheekily with a shrug. Leaning back, she gave his question an honest try. "It was and is my life, so I guess you could say it worked out well. I certainly learned a lot, and I loved the camaraderie." That was less apparent now that she had worked her way essentially toward the top of the ladder, but she still had those memories, still occasionally lurked on the edges of conversations unseen, still joined her men in the mess for food to cultivate relationships and trust whenever she could. She suffered a pang of regret for how complicated things had gotten, but the role she played was an important one, not even counting the living wage that came with it. Her hand suddenly itched to hold a blade.

"There aren't many of my former squadmates left among the men serving you. Almost none, actually. They've died or moved on to other pastures." If all went well, she might consider extending invitations to them when the time came. "We made the most of our downtime, though serving doesn't leave a lot of time for vacationing." She stretched her arms above her head as the waitress returned with food and drink and a grin slowly eased across her face. "Lots of travel, though."

She let her arms fall and smiled at their waitress, thanking her and turning to the food as the woman left. "To occasionally be able to visit a planet without it being 'official' is... nice." The mission they were on was unofficial; she hadn't walked into the city in full armor with a rifle in her hand. That alone was enough to make this a singular experience. She looked up as she set food on her plate, still waffling over how much to say. "It's nicer to do it with someone, too."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium vaguely recalled the camaraderie she spoke of. He'd experienced something similar in the early days of his rule over Ession. Then, he and the Peacekeepers, Ession soldiers that had volunteered to fight the One Sith, had bonded over months of drills. When they had been dropped into the battle, the men had followed Cyril's orders without question. Some had died for it, but the Peacekeepers had ended up pulling out a victory in the end. They had grieved for the fallen, received what intelligence they needed, and moved on.

Such was the fate of the Ession reformation; to wander and fight battles that were not their own. Eventually things had fallen apart, as they were wont to do. There was nothing Cyril really could have done about it. The final battle with the One Sith on Kashyyyk had been a devastating victory. While Ession's navy had eventually rebuilt itself, things had never truly been the same. Cyril had never held such relationships with the new men.

"I always liked the travel during war times," he smiled, "It was bloody, but the men were tough. The outer rim sieges were a mess." His smile faded as the food was set out before them. He opted for silence as Bethany spoke of her past, chewing away at the grilled steak mindlessly. He might not have been a fan of the majority of Zeltros, but this little place at least for the food right.

"I agree," he paused to swallow, "I've got to agree with you there. Things would have been a whole lot less dull without you here." His features brightened and he cracked a wide grin. It was too big to be fake. "I would have been lost back at the brothel too," he snickered, and absently slid out a hand across the table. It was just far enough for her to take it, if she wished. A bit of strategy never hurt in things like this.

"We didn't have big oceans on Gratos," he mused, "This -" he waved a hand out toward the twinkling waves, "It's nice."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

The food was good and she managed to resist the desire to roll her eyes at his playfulness. She knew she had done well earlier, so his facetious criticisms didn't bother her. He was enjoying himself and her company and wasn't shy about expressing or, at least, displaying it. It was in his face, his body language, his voice, and Bethany found herself relaxing and responding more to those signals as the night moved on.

Bethany looked at his hand, flicked a knowing glance to Cyril's face, and then smiled as she looked off over the water with a small shake of her head, though it seemed to be directed more at herself than at him.

It had been a long time since she'd been pursued by someone, even if it was in a "joy of the chase" sort of situation. It had been a longer time since she had been able to relax her professional persona, and a longer time than that since she'd been on an outing with a friend. Admittedly, her professional self was only mildly different from her natural personality, but there was a certain level of propriety added when you had to command the respect of soldiers who likely would never know you personally, never learn from field situations that you were someone they could trust.

It was isolating, in a way, which was a nerve for her. So she had battled the feeling with her strategies to get to know her new men, to teach them who she was and why service should be given willingly rather than compelled.

This, though, was a rare opportunity. Turning back to the table, Annie reached one hand out and finally placed it into his. He was fooling no one with his smooth actions, but the restaurant, now that she had settled into the idea, felt safe enough to indulge in a bit of human contact, never mind that it sent a fissure of excitement through her. When was the last time she had held someone's hand? The man who had died on her last mission before Mephirium swept in and changed everything did not count. She observed the difference in their skin tones absently before deciding it was best not to let her food get cold.

"There are a lot of planets in and nearer our area of space that I hear have their own charms." She watched him as she speared a bite and waved at him illustratively as she spoke. "Probably ones with fewer brothels and a lower incidence of crime, too. How often did you get to travel without the requirements of war before your current position?"

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

It was an odd sensation that shot through him. It occurred the moment Bethany laced her fingers over his. Sure, they had been holding hands and locking arms earlier, but that could have all been for appearances sake. This was different. Cyril, on some level, craved her touch. It made him think of the future - of a thousand possibilities that quite likely would never come to pass. He had always been the dreamer; it was why he was trying to establish himself as the reigning Sith Lord now. When it came to things such as this, his aspirations were just as ridiculous. He knew that, of course, but he did not let it stop him from enjoying the warmth of her hand over his own.

"You would be surprised how many brothels there are in the galaxy," he grumbled, "Especially in the inner rim. It seems every young man who can vaguely call himself Sith has a harem fawning over him." He took a bite of his food and shook his head. "I suppose everyone has their vices."

When his lamentations drew to an end, he affixed her with a wry smile. She wanted to know about his adventures, did she? There were more than a dozen tales to choose from, and as far as Cyril was concerned, each one was more interesting than the last.

"I traveled quite a bit. When the Sith Empire fell apart, I was on the run. Vulcanus sent bounty hunters after me. They chased me from Dromund Kass to Balmorra. The Jedi found me there and helped me get the bounty wiped from the board." His smile brightened. "I did a lot of things after that. I handed the holocron of Darth Krayt over to the One Sith to ave a few Jedi lives - a mistake. Then I left to found the Ession Reformation and bring some semblance of peace to the outer rim..."

He was beginning to ramble. He waved a hand about dismissively at his own tale and mumbled, "I've been all over the galaxy. I'm at the point where there isn't much new to be seen. I can tell you that traveling loses a lot of its splendor when you don't have a home to return to."

He took the moment of silence afterword to finish off his steak. The waitress returned, and Cyril paid for both of their meals. It wasn't too expensive, thankfully. He was spending enough credits on this mercenary army already. Luxuries were something he really couldn't afford.

"It's always nicer with a partner. S'pose I'll have to drag you along with me anytime I travel - for safety reasons," he snickered, "I just feel so secure when you're around." His words dripped with good-natured sarcasm. "We'll need to get away from the political machine time and again anyway."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"I believe protecting you is the job of the Royal Guard." Annie smiled. It had been inevitable that the conversation would turn back around to work. It was looming over them and was the one thing they could be certain they shared. "In their absence, I suppose I could step in. You won't be able to do much 'escaping' from the political machine for some time, though. If things go as planned, we'll need to move swiftly to secure new worlds, to quell loyalists trying to usurp power on the fringes of our--" she tripped over her words and then grinned apologetically, "Your empire, to make a showing that will discourage any early attempts at an overthrow."

It had been an honest mistake. It would be an empire for all of them and calling their new base world "home" would be equivalent to calling the One Sith "our empire" when they were both part of it. For just a moment, she had forgotten she was speaking to the man who would actually be running that empire and not just a fellow sympathizer.

"I must say, your questionable faith in my talents hurts." Her tone belied any seriousness her comment could have held. "You haven't really seen me in action yet. Wait until a problem arises."

She rose from the table reluctantly and hesitated for a moment. Should she keep this going..? Oh hell. It was well on its way. Too late now! Better to enjoy it. It wasn't as if they were doing anything untoward anyway. A tiny voice whispered that Joffie and anyone else in the empire might question the situation if they were made aware of it. In defiance of her own internal warnings, she held out a hand to him expectantly. "We should head back."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril snickered as she caught herself. "It's our empire Bethany. No need to try and stroke my ego," he spoke through a laugh. Yes, it was his, but then it belonged to every Imperial citizen in the galaxy as well. Bethany was helping to raise that old vision from the ashes. If anything, it belong to the both of them. He did the talking: drew people in. His soldiers did most of the legwork, and Bethany Haverford was chief among them. He wasn't going to let her forget that either. She'd earned whatever accolades he intended to give her.

"I have plans to deal with the loyalists, no need to worry," he waved a hand about, "They'll all be dealt with when the time comes, but you don't need to worry, I can make time for..." What was this? He and Bethany both knew exactly what he was perusing, and what she was happily returning. His eyes fell to the pendant hanging from her neck. He decided he very much liked seeing her wear it. "...For this."

He smiled and pushed himself up from his seat. Her hand was eagerly taken, and when she stood, he pulled in close. Closer than he'd dared before; his cheek almost pressed against her own. "My faith in your talents, Annie, is anything but questionable." It was meant to come across as a quiet whisper - something seductive perhaps. Unfortunately, Cyril could not take himself seriously, and he began to laugh halfway through it.

"Absolutely. We stay out any longer and we'll have to start dealing with the street drunks."

With her hand intertwined with his own, Cyril led them down the long road back to the hangers, and from there, up the landing ramp of the ship.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

Bethany was thrown slightly off-balance by Cyril's unexpected invasion of her personal space. She had begun a subtle, polite movement away from him even as her stomach tightened in anticipation, but the laughter that bubbled out of his words partway through stalled her. Oh. Son of a... She, too, started to laugh and was all too pliable as he pulled her after him from the restaurant. On the way out, Annie called thanks to the hostess, and kept pace with Cyril back to the ship.

How he had known to call her Annie, she didn't know. Beth had never really stuck with her: acquaintances, those outside the military, had used Beth in the past and she was fine with it, but it usually was a nickname from those who didn't know her well. Annie was what her 'mates called her, was what her second training instructor had taken to calling her once she was out from under his care. It was a fateful coincidence, serendipity if anyone believed in it, that Cyril would pick the less common usage for her nickname; that wasn't the sort of thing that made it into one's file, after all.

It was their arrival back on the ship that put the first real damper on their interactions. Forced to release his hand for reasons of propriety and space, they headed down the main corridor together until Annie stopped at the small side hall that led to her quarters. This ship was a mid-way point between the freedom of distance and the restriction of the empire. This was where their mission, the real reason they were on Zeltros, came back to them and reset their mindsets if not their behavior. It reminded her, at least, of their professional obligations and how she needed to put aside her desire to please, to have fun, to take care of what was necessary. The blonde leaned a hand on the wall, hovering in the archway as she turned half-way back to Cyril-- Mephirium-- the man who was standing there, staring at her. Kark, she hated complications.

"Will we be staying here for tonight or heading to Tiraf so we get an early start tomorrow?"

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

He listened here and there.

Cyril had heard the nickname used time and again in passing. His own use of it was the result of the familiarity they now had with one another - he was comfortable with her, and she him. At the very least, she didn't correct him when he used the name. He must have been doing something right.

He kept her close as they made their way back to the ship. It was a long walk, and Cyril spent most of it cracking jokes and taking in the scenery, content to simply enjoy Bethany's company. It was only when they had walked up the shuttle's landing ramp that his mind started to wander. They would need to head out for Tiraf soon. Truthfully, it wouldn't make much of a difference if they left now or early in the morning. The flight was a good three hours, and Cyril was feeling a bit lax given the night's proceedings. He wasn't ready to spring back into the job just yet.

He lingered near her when they arrived at her quarters. Tomorrow, they would need to be professional. Tomorrow, they would be hunting down the man that might have killed his student, the closest thing he had ever had to a son. Tomorrow, things would go back to the way they used to be, but - no, they wouldn't, couldn't. Too much had happened. Bethany was no longer Colonel Haverford - she was Annie, and she was intoxicating.

"We'll go in the morning. I don't feel like flying," his gaze fell to the floor.

He didn't think. He acted. His arm slipped forward to snake around her thin waist, his body shifting against hers. His lips pressed to hers in a tender show of affection that no other being in the galaxy would ever be permitted to see.

Darth Mephirium was a Sith Lord that took whatever he wished, consequences be damned. Cyril Grayson had found himself enamored by this charming blonde. Both sides of him made a decision, and for once, those two personalities had the same consensus.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"Well, it is a bit of a trip." They had known it was on the other side of the planet, and, depending on how long that took, it could be the wee hours of the morning before they landed. Probably safer to wait.

Before she had time to process what was happening, her body was flush against his and her thoughts were sent cascading into a jumble of confusion. She had a dagger half-drawn by the time his hot mouth was on hers and rationality kicked in; she slowly slipped it back into its sheath and let her hand fall away. The pleasant twist of arousal in her gut was back, encouraged by the firm hold of his arm around her waist. She reached up to twine her arms around his neck, content to return the slow, easy caresses of his lips and press her body against his for a few moments.

She pulled back slowly, trying to process the situation as she opened her eyes and let her eyes shuttle between his. So maybe the odd behavior during their meetings had not been her misunderstanding after all. This would never have happened if the choice had been hers; she would not have initiated the destruction of those barriers, of the safe division that friendship, that professionalism, would have placed on them. Clearly, Cyril was not as willing to ignore his baser impulses as she was. It wasn't love. They hadn't known each other long enough for it to be deep and abiding, but she liked the man she had seen tonight and the leader she knew. And the chemistry was certainly there.

She smiled and adjusted her arm around his neck, faint confusion lingering in her expression. "I suppose that's one way to say goodnight."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

The kiss was electric.

He held her in his arms as she broke the embrace. For a moment, he was content. His feelings had been confirmed, and it seemed Bethany shared them. Realistically, he could not pursue her; not openly at the very least. However, he had his desires, and this had served as a great relief from the constant work he was enveloped in. He suspected that Bethany felt the same. No one needed to know what was going on here. No one needed to know what would go on in the future. So long as they were both happy, Cyril didn't much care.

Part of him wanted to apologize: to assure Bethany that no soul would ever hear of what he had just done. That her career was not under threat and that he had crossed a boundary that he very well should not have. That part of him was quite vocal, and he felt that it might have been the right thing to do. For better or worse, he ignored it.

"We have two weeks to find that chip, Bethany," he cooed, his eyes shifting from her lovely face to her quarters. "I enjoyed tonight. I think we should do it again, when things quiet down." A soft sigh escaped him, and he found that he could not deny himself. In the past, he might have, but his time with the Sith had taught him to live in the moment. His hands drifted low down the small of her back, and his lips managed to find her neck, trailing soft kisses down to where her shoulder began. The actions spoke for themselves.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

From there, the night had gone about how one might expect. Bethany woke the next morning still feeling tired, but with the sense that she had slept for far too long. There was a warm body curled up behind her, and she pushed the covers down slightly so she could turn to look up into his face. She hadn't doubted him when he said he wasn't leaving; they'd both been exhausted and she never minded having someone to cuddle up with at night. She must have overslept her internal alarm, which was why her body demanded she wake up when she hadn't gotten nearly the amount of rest she would have liked. They had certainly stayed up late enough that, had they still been out, they would have encountered the street drunks Cyril had referenced the night before.

She shifted over onto her back entirely and tucked an arm up behind her head as she watched him for a few moments, waiting to see if he would wake up on his own. When it didn't seem like an awakening was imminent, she smiled slightly and shook her head. They did have a trip to make and business to take care of.

"Cyril." She wiggled her other arm out from between them and reached up to cup his jaw in her hand, running a thumb over his cheek. "Cyril."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

His dreams had been odd this time. Cyril had never been any form of seer, that had always been Linori's area of expertise, but the force occasionally granted him some measure of guidance. It seemed the evening's activities had spurred it to bring him a mental image. It was Kaigann, or his face at the very least. The boy was staring up aimlessly at the sky, blood dribbling from his open mouth as all semblance of life left his features.

It was then that Cyril realized his boy was dead. The realization had stirred him from his sleep in the middle of the night, and for a moment, he had been overcome by grief. Fortunately, Bethany's closeness had given him something to cling to; to forget that pain for the time being. When he awoke for the second time, it was to bright blue eyes and a mess of blond hair.

"I'm up," he grumbled through a tired smile, "Sleep well?" The smile grew into a wide grin and he pulled her close. He would discuss Kai's fate with her later once they had made their way to Tiraf, and that was going to have to wait until Bethany pushed him away.

For a Sith Lord, Cyril was a bit clingy in the mornings.

"I have to fly us to Tiraf, don't I?" He complained, "To meet...Ruudi. Wonder how charming he is."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

She hummed in response when he asked how she had slept and edged in closer to him, letting the hand on his face trail down his neck. They did have work-- more's the pity-- and that had to come first.

"Regardless of his temperament, you do in fact need to fly us to Tiraf," she confirmed, an amused, affectionate smile bowing her lips. "We do not want Madam Gafen to have a sudden change of heart and warn him; we've courted that danger well enough already."

Of course, if he had been tipped off and was waiting, they could deal with that when they got there. It was unlikely anything on this planet would be a challenge for a trained special operations soldier and a Sith Lord. Annie traced her finger over the line of his Graug scar, but her eyes were on his face. "If that does not encourage you, the sooner we finish this task, the more time we will have to attend to other matters."

She planted a kiss firmly on his chin and sat up, propping herself up on her arms as she grinned at him. "Do I need to offer you further encouragement or are you coming?"

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril couldn't keep the laugh out of his voice, "I dunno. Further encouragement seems pretty nice," he grinned as she kissed him. He gave her a squeeze and fell silent, eyes drifting closed as he drank in the moment. This wasn't going to last forever - they had duties to attend to and appearances to keep up. Many of the Sith Lords that now followed him would question his leadership if they knew he intended to keep one of his soldiers in his bed. Not a soul could know of what went on between them; not until they found a way to speak of such things openly.

But then, like Bethany said, the sooner they finished, the sooner he could keep her all to himself. "I'm very much looking forward to other matters," he mumbled, leaning forward to kiss her softly. A long moment passed before he broke it. "You've got me. I'll start the flight."

Fighting the urge to grumble a curse, Cyril drew himself out from under the sheets. He took a moment to throw on a pair of linen pants and the jacket from yesterday before turning back to Annie. She was strewn across the bunk, her blond hair a mess, her body shrouded by the covers, and a warm smile on her face.

I think I could get used to this.

"I'm not leaving until you're dressed. A man has to enjoy the little things."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

A low chuckle escaped her and she threw back the covers and stood with no compunctions. "Always a catch. I'm going to grab a shower before I dress, so you're going to be waiting for a while if that's what you want." She walked over and stood up on her toes to reach his lips. Skipping a shower wouldn't have bothered her so much if she wasn't coated in dry sweat. In the field you had to deal with those inconveniences; when there were facilities available, she always took advantage of them. Predicting his thoughts, she preempted his comments with "You should get the autopilot set at the least. I'll meet you in the cockpit if you don't get back in time."

Avoiding his assiduous grasp, she twisted out of his space and crossed into the corridor on her way to the shower. Three hours was plenty of time transition back into a more professional mindset.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

"Always," Mephirium grinned.

He hurried off to set the ship on its automated course. Bethany had made an offer that he simply could not refuse, and he wasted no time in fast-walking back to join her.

------------​

​

​

A few hours later and the ship came to land in Tiraf. Cyril hadn't paid the flight much mind. The beginning of it had been spent with Bethany in her - their quarters after she had cleansed herself. It was nice to get the sweat and grime off of his body, at the very least. The Colonel's company had only made things better. Now, clad in a black leather jacket and armed with a DC-15s at his side, Cyril negotiated with one of the dock workers on pricing. A moment of haggling and an exchange of credits assured them protection within Tiraf's main spaceport.

"They're trying to rob me of everything I have," Cyril grumbled as he turned toward his companion, "Three hundred credits for them to charge the fuel cells. Karking ridiculous." Shaking his head, he turned to look at his datapad. "The Tops aren't far, though I hear it's pretty high end. I didn't bring any kind of clothes for that."

Seemed his wallet was going to be hurting today.

"Up to do a little shopping?"

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

Bethany's hands fell from her hips as he approached; she had made no attempt to obscure the fact that she had been avidly watching him haggle. With the events of the night before-- and this morning, for that matter-- it wasn't only lines that had become uncertain. This was a man she didn't know; he was like a new person without the weight of responsibility, without the expectations of those around him, without the demands of being Sith. It wasn't hard to remember she didn't know him well as a person yet, but she had the sense that she was going to before their two week vacation was over. In her mind, however, she had to prioritize their original purpose which was to find his student. Sometime last night it had occurred to her that for all of his smokescreening the aim of this hunt was the boy. Whether it was out of revenge or concern, Cyril wanted the boy as much as the chip, and Annie was going to help him get what he wanted. He deserved that much closure at least.

Cyril's body language during the process had prepared her for the outcome before he opened his mouth, and her lips quirked in an amused smirk at his grumbling. She waited a beat before she turned to head for the exit and commented, "I'm starting to wonder if this whole trip wasn't meant to be an extended date. Drinks, a brothel, shopping, dinner, more shopping..."

She squinted against the noon sun and shielded her eyes with her arm. "We don't necessarily need to change if our aim is to simply ply Ruudie for information, unless we're hoping to blend in until we can corner him somewhere private."

She glanced over her shoulder and checked her figure facetiously as she moved ahead. "Though I'm sure we could find something appropriate if it's pivotal to the operation. It's your lead."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

She'd figured out his ulterior motive then. Smart woman, that one. Mephirium cracked an amused little smirk and bowed his head in a mock apology, "You've caught me. Good job, Colonel," he snickered. He shoved his hands into his pockets and followed after her.

They could strong arm Ruudie if they needed to. Most folks involved in petty operations such as this could be dealt with easily enough so long as you knew where to apply the pressure. With Bethany, doing so would be particularly easy. The Colonel could take her way through things well enough. As they walked toward the hanger's exit, Cyril slipped an arm through her own. Partly to keep up appearances, and partly because he enjoyed it. So long as he could keep playing this little game, the better things were.

"All just one big date," he huffed a quiet laugh, "Had to get you away somehow."

Something shifted within the force. It was a subtle thing; a quiet warning, nothing more, but there all the same. Cyril did his best not to show the sudden surprise on is face. If his premonition was correct, they weren't going to be having a particularly peaceful evening after all.

A pity.

"I read about the Tops," he mumbled, trying to stir himself from the unease in the air, "It's fancy. Very fancy. I figure our boy will be in one of the casinos."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]