Foxy Grandpa

[Joza Perl]

​

Nar Shaddaa​

The Spice and Dice. It was the same bar where she’d first met him, and so it stood that this should be where their next meeting was. Twisted logic? Lack of a better location? Or sentimental value? Regardless, Joza had sent Zef a short message to meet her here. The two didn’t communicate often, so it stood reason that her message would be seen as urgent, probably moreso for its brevity. Meet me at the Spice and Dice. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip as her hand curled around the glass of ice water. I have something I need to discuss with you.

Knocking back a gulp of her drink, Joza sighed and then paused, feeling a pair of eyes on her. Looking up, she gazed at the bartender who was giving her an uncomfortable look. “Y’ gonna have a drink, honey?” His eyes slid towards the glass of water before returning to her face. “I’m good for now.” Her polite smile wavered a bit until the man sighed and walked away to tend to other customers.

She’d chosen this place because it was familiar, and it was public. He couldn’t make a scene—well, a scene had been made the last time they were here. Only that was outside the bar, and she had punched him. And then started crying. Joza bit her lip again. She felt the urge to cry now, but took another drink to cool herself down and let it pass.

There was nothing left to do now but wait for the smuggler and go over what she wanted to say in her head.

[member="Zef Halo"]

 

[Zef Halo]

She'grer Neighborhood District
Nar Shadaa

The older he got, the more trouble he had sleeping and the harder he could get out of bed. Years passed, youth was long gone. It was just decaying now. Not the best thought to have when you woke up. The smuggler grabbed his forehead with his palm, a headache once again. It would disappear naturally after he stood up and moved around but he had no time for that. Blindly, Zef's arm fell upon his simple night stand and grabbed the pills that were there taking them with water.

He barely made it out of the toilet as he almost stumbled and fell exiting it. The Mandalorian still felt like going back to bed but knew well he'd have a hard time sleeping. Middle of the night breakfast came next in the form of bacon and eggs and beer. Nothing better to start the day with. Used to be coffee back in the days. No more. He'd grown an immunity to coffee. Beer felt better but it certainly did not wake him up as much as the eerie blip on his wrist datapad.

Two sentences kickstarted his pulse and complicated his breathing.

Joza.

It was ironic for a man probably easily dubbed as Mr. Nonchalant, he'd jump start at the news of his daughter. The same daughter he abandoned almost three decades ago. Now, of course, he did not know his daughter much but he had learned over a few past events that she was a troublemaker. Twice the one Zef had been. Where he liked running, deceiving and outsmarting, Joza would more likely charge head on, fall in a ditch and then dig her way through a hole just to keep charging.

What ditch was it now ?

It worried him, of course. That went without saying. It was, most likely, the only thing that was able to worry him at this age and he slightly cursed the fact he had not abandoned her. Perhaps now he would not be feeling as worried. What was she ? 27 ? Kark, was it 27 ? Hopefully, it doesn't lead to birthday topics. Zef smacked his head for not remembering but then continued to hastily dress himself and leave the apartment.

The engines of the speeder bike roared as the smuggler took it out for a drive to the good ol' Spice and Dice. The urgency of Joza's message was able to divert his attention from nostalgically looking at his father's home. It was where he was raised and ever since Trek's death and Zef leaving Nar Shadaa for a career as a smuggler, the place stood there untouched. Even after returning to settle down on Nar Shadaa, the Mandalorian did not have the courage to even step in, let alone live there. Deep inside, he felt that he had failed his father, that Trek's sacrifice for a better life for Zef was in vain.

Maybe it was time to stop running. And that thought was only spurred by his fateful meeting with his daughter a while back. It had changed him. It had driven in him a sense of responsibility. Maybe it was. Zef's eyes turned back towards the traffic and away from his childhood home.

The journey was not that long, nor was it that short. It was just that the smuggler knew the 'secret' routes to get faster to where his daughter was allegedly waiting for him. Only one pistol in a holster on his right hip and his smuggler's attire was what Zef would present to his daughter today. The armor ? Put away safely on his ship. Locked away. Perhaps for good.

The door of the Spice and Dice slid open after the familiar bouncer nodded at the smuggler. The Corellian strode in with a grimace on his face, the smell of cigarettes made him light one as he looked around for his daughter. Follow the eyes of the males, and that's where she was. The little half-Zeltron all grown up even more. Since their last meeting she had become by far more of a woman than a girl. Zef forgave himself the moment long smile he had at the sight of his daughter.

Back with the frown on his face, Zef moved through the tables towards Joza. Reading people through masks was a trait he had accumulated over years of experience as a smuggler. Without it, he would've probably been dead twenty times before he had hit the age of thirty. Something was wrong or at least not exactly right. He pulled the chair back and sat on it, his eyes fixated on his daughter.

"What's up, kid ?" Zef asked, his tone neutral as he eagerly waited to hear what was going on. "How are you doing?"


[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza had been staring into her glass, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the swirls of melting ice. The bartender had moved towards her again, looking a bit miffed that she had the gall to sit at the bar and not order a drink drink. But when Zef moved to sit with her, he grunted and backed off for the moment.

“Halo,” He rumbled with a nod of acknowledgement. “Ale?”

The Zeltron woman fidgeted at the sound of her father’s voice, and for a moment she was regretful that he showed up. Doubt surged in her chest that this was a good idea. Maybe she should have just kept him out of this, had the child and dealt with it then.

“Dad.” She said by way of greeting, looking up and giving him an anxious smile. “I’m…healthy.” It was an odd thing to say, but Joza wasn’t exactly alright or fine. Much like her father, the pink skinned woman was good with words and also managed to inherit his knack for reading people. Though some of that may be attributed to her Zeltron blood line, Joza liked to think that she was in some ways, like her father. It would explain some things, that was for certain.

Among their similarities was the loss of the ability to talk smoothly around each other. It was always either awkward conversations, or her yelling at him. With this in mind, she decided to strike directly at the heart of the problem…er, conversation. Turning towards the man who had sired her and then accepted her as his daughter twenty four years after the fact, Joza faced Zef dead in the eyes.

“Zef, you’re going to be a grandfather.”

[member="Zef Halo"]

 

[Zef Halo]

He waved away the good ol' bartender to everyone's surprise. Taking a closer look at Joza, he'd concluded what she had brought him here was something worrying but what the kark would a Jedi Master need of an old timer smuggler. He surely could not put his mind to it and the ale wouldn't have helped at all, as well. Zef took a glance all around him to shut the prying eyes and ears away from them and being a loyal patron here gave him enough respect points to be able to do so. Ah, the achievements of his life.

When she abruptly began with Dad, Zef remained silent and neutral while basking in the joy of hearing it for the first time from her mouth. At the same time, a bad feeling crept within him. Something was not right here. What she said next made him raise an eyebrow and silent alarms began ringing at the back of his head. The hell was all this ? The seconds turned into hours and the hours into days as he impatiently waited to see how this conversation would unfold. Nonetheless, he still remained silent until...

“Zef, you’re going to be a grandfather.”


And all hell broke loose, the alarms blared in his head, the pipes exploded, electricity went down while on the outside he just seemed very slightly taken a back. Like a broken dam, suddenly all the questions flooded his mind and one out of all those questions was hammering his head and tongue to spit it out.

"Ah, hmm, congratulations!" He tried to smile, he was happy, obviously, but the tons of quesitons in his head and worries could not let him enjoy it. Joza was wayward, he had come to terms with that and he had never thought of the prospect that she was certainly already a grown woman. Having no family life himself as a real parent, he never put pregnancy in his calculations but this was life. The normal life. That is why he was so unprepared. Zef honestly had no idea how and what to do but be direct. "So who's the lucky man ?" He tried for humor but he knew well that it hardly sounded as comedy in his tone. "And uh, when's the wedding, ha ?"

Bartender, ale please.

The smuggler always had problems speaking right with his daughter.

[member="Joza Perl"]​

 

[Joza Perl]

C…congratulations? Congratulations?

Joza had been watching her father intently, anxious over how he would react to the news. Out of everything that she’d expected, him being happy for her like this was not on the list. At least, not without a panic attack. She took a drink of her water, eyeing Zef carefully from behind the rim of the glass. She could feel twinges of his inward alarm, though he remained commendably collected on the outside. Made sense. Good smugglers knew how to talk to people, and their manner of conduct was often carefully cultivated to get what they wanted—or avoid what they didn’t want. Knowing how to play your target was important, but apparently Zef had missed the class dealing with confessions of your estranged daughter’s surprise pregnancy.

She couldn’t blame him, of course. Joza was itching to worm her way into his mind to get a read on what he was feeling, but she was scared of what she might find behind that calm façade—disappointment? Shame? Disgust? Always bet on the worst, and you’ll never be let down, hopefully.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” A thread of well-placed nerves slipped its way into her voice, and she gazed down into the glass of water. The ice had now melted, and the drink was becoming luke-warm, but she needed something to fiddle with. Either way, she was lying. Joza knew exactly who the father of her child was, but intended to hide it from everyone she could. It would be plausible with her reputation, after all. “No wedding,” She muttered, trying to keep a friendly edge in her tone. This whole thing was terribly awkward, and they both knew it, but she found it difficult to act any different right now. “I’m not the type. Must be a familial thing.”

Joza winced. She hadn’t meant to verbalize her thought, but there it was. Her parents hadn’t been married, so why should she? Especially considering the dismal state of her relationship with the actual father. Perhaps there had been a window where they could have made marriage work, but it had passed them by long ago. She had to wonder if there was still any affection in her heart for him buried beneath the bitter words and harsh memories.

“But…yeah. I’m…12? 13 weeks? So about…six more months to go, I guess.” She shrugged with a bit of exaggeration, unsure of where to take this now. “Just thought you should know. You can like…see the child and stuff. If you want to. I’d like you to.” She bit her lip, irritated at herself for being this awkward.

[member="Zef Halo"]

 

[Zef Halo]

“I’m not sure, to be honest.”


This was probably the answer Zef did not want to hear but somehow slightly expected. Nonetheless, his collected demeanor flinched a bit when his eyes widened for a second. The smuggler was definitely not prepared for such a conversation, he'd sealed his mind from aging, from accepting responsibility and the years had just gone by...Before he'd know it, his own daughter had grown into a woman. No. A mother, on top of that. Was it selfish that shivers ran down his spine at the thought that he was much older than he thought he was ?

He came back to the now, there was no point digging the past, no point digging old mistakes, no point opening closed chapters. What's been done had been done, perhaps, at least, he could help out his daughter as best as he could. Could he actually do that ? She'd grown up without him, she had become a woman without him, what could Zef possibly help her with. While his thoughts rummaged in his mind, his outer calm expression was certainly showing its cracks.

“I’m not the type. Must be a familial thing.”

He frowned at that sentence and felt a bullet pierce his heart. The ale arrived on time to save him and the gulp he took lasted a while as she talked. Zef remained silent and focused on the bitter taste of the drink than diving into the feelings that were brewing within him like a storm. Regret, resentment and shame were the three main components of the weather in his mind. The smuggler tried shoving them down, alas unsuccessfully. The cracks outside were now obviously seen just as well as they were on his daughter's face.

Why ?

Why did all of their meetings had something dramatic going ? Something difficult, some sort of an obstacle ? Why were they, more or less, bad news ? Could it not be just a simple wave of goodbye as she would run off to school ? Could it not be a simple cinema night ? Could it not be like the normal people had it ? A normal father and daughter experience ? Even the best news a man could receive - the coming of a child - came vexing and troublesome.

There's no one else to blame, Zef.

He put the ale down on the table with a slam that startled him, as well. It was as if he was trying to seal back the blight that stormed in his mind. The blight that spoke the truth - had he made a different choice, it would all not be such a mess. Worst of it all, and what made him resent himself, was that it was not only him affected but his child and the mother of his child, and now his grandchild.


"Who's going to take care of it, Joza ?" He forced himself to ask, his tone dry and slightly tormented. Zef knew that his daughter's life was anything but the life of a mother. Perhaps he hoped he could hear a settling answer, although he doubted it. They were far too alike. "Is it...in some danger of some sort ?" The least he could offer was protection. The least.


[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“I’m not the type. Must be a familial thing.”​

Being an empath sucked sometimes. As the words left her mouth, she could practically feel the crack in Zef’s heart. She didn’t know why she said it, but she did. Maybe deep down, Joza wasn’t as alright with this as she pretended to be. Sure, they’d met for the first time several years ago and apologized for walking out. She’d gotten to throw her temper tantrum and had a breakdown outside the bar, and things began to settle between them. They had an awkward relationship from the start, but they accepted each other as father and daughter on some level.

Joza had come to terms with the fact nothing could make up for those lost 24 years. She had moved on, moved forward in hopes of creating some semblance of a normal relationship with her father. The lack of having a father in her life had been an influence on her, but she refused to place the blame entirely on Zef. Some of it—the majority of it—had to do with her own selfishness and poor conduct.

Would things have been different if this right now was their first meeting?

Even now, the child was a sore topic. There were so many layers to it—fear, worry, anxiety and more fear. What if the child became a target because of his or her Sith heritage? What if the Jedi rejected him or her, and the Sith sought the child? Haytham would find out eventually. She could conceal the baby’s presence through the Force, but soon nothing would be able to hide her protruding belly. There was only so much she could do once the child was born, too. He’d find out, and she feared for the future. Would he care? Would he kill it? Would he kill her? Would he try to take the baby and raise it as a Sith?

“Me.” For the first time in their conversation, her voice with thick with decisiveness. “I’m going to care for the child. I’m going to raise him or her under the protection of the Silvers.” With the many uncertainties surrounding this birth, there was one thing she was firm on. She fully intended to raise and provide for the child, and thankfully she had the resources to do so. Heartbeat House was doing well, so finances were not an issued. She toyed with the idea of moving back to Voss so that the baby would be surrounded by Jedi. Anything, anything to undo the inevitable half of his parentage.

“Not right now, but…if the father finds out, I don’t…” Her voice softened, fading out as her eyes unfocused over Zef’s shoulder. She hadn’t yet realized what she said, but her mind was turning to images of Haytham. Angry that she’d had a child, angry that she’d not told him. Angry that she’d keep the child from him. But she was scared, and she didn’t trust him. As much as Joza wanted her baby to have the happy, stable two-parent lifestyle she’d never had herself, it just wasn’t feasible. She had to put her child first, and it would not be safe with the father in its life.

[member="Zef Halo"]