Private Maleficent

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin Adelle Bastiel Lorn Reingard Zark San Tekka Lily Decoria //:
//: Mandalorian Embassy, Naboo //:
//: Attire //:​

CT-312 had stepped out for hot sauce and a replacement drink. That was all it had meant to be. A short trip back toward the restaurant and return to the Embassy before the Queen finished up her meal.

She ignored the random looks while waiting in line. The bright ridiculous little restaurant mascot stickers Quinn had stuck to the side of her helmet earlier felt like a minor act of royal sabotage. They remained despite normally CT-312 would have every reasonable argument against, she had let her do so. It seemed to bring small amusement to the Queen recently.

PING. Multiple notifications chimed through the helmet. It wasn’t urgent at first, until BARCA automatically shifted in its priority. A small square of live security footage opened in the lower right corner of her HUD. It was the Mandalorian Embassy’s cameras that CT-312 had been given access to after the incident with the random Jedi. BARCA tagged the three figures entering the grounds. They were… High Republic personnel.

The line moved too slowly.

“Keep the feeds going.” The square box of live footage remained fixed on her HUD as BARCA cycled camera angles. CT-312 analyzed the three. They did not have the posture of an invited guest waiting to be received, nor the slow curiosity of lost delegates realizing they had gone the wrong way. No. The three knew exactly where they were going. CT-312’s gloved hand flexed once at her side. They were heading toward Quinn’s office. Her teeth ground together.

CT-312 finally reached the register. BARCA switched to an interior camera, the three had entered the Queen of Eshan’s office. Unannounced. At the same instant CT-312 was slammed with a wave of discomfort, it was cold and wrong as it pressed through the bond. A gloved hand came down on the counter, hard enough that the credits scattered against the surface. Through her clenched teeth the words forced left in a restrained growl, “Keep the change.” She grabbed the drink and pocketed the hot sauce.

Before the restaurant door had fully swung open, the repulsor pack ignited. The feed and its audio still played from the Embassy as the city blurred around CT-312. Another pulse came through… fear. Her boots slammed into the pavement, the repulsor pack flared harder. Its output indicator climbed into the red. Heat seeped through the backplate and through the undersuit in a steady bite that spread across her back. CT-312 ignored it. The bond twisted once more.

Not—

CT-312’s breathing roughened inside the helmet as a low growl built in her throat. The repulsor pack screamed behind. Its vents glowed a yellow-orange beneath the housing. Her back burned under the suit, sharp and spreading. CT-312 did not slow once she reached the Mandalorian Embassy. Warnings flashed in the upper corner of her HUD.

[ BARCA ]
[ REPULSOR PACK TEMPERATURE: CRITICAL ]
[ OUTPUT EXCEEDING SAFE LIMITS ]
[ THERMAL DAMAGE RISK: ACTIVE ]

—Again

Her eyes flickered back at the feed, there was a Mandalorian on standby outside the Queen’s office. BARCA placed an overlay to the nearest point of entry: the window. Quinn’s voice came in through more clearly over the feed, raw with defiance and something dangerously close to breaking.

"Redemption isn't only through your fallacies of the Light. You are no better than the Sith in this aspect. You are not all-knowing and above the natural order or laws of a land. I do not wish to be either… I am what I am, and that is the Queen of Eshan."

A different set of red warning glyphs flooded CT-312’s HUD as the silent alarm was triggered. The repulsor pack fired off in one powerful overdriven burst, vaulting upward into the window. CRASH. Glass exploded inward as her shoulder-hit first. Boots slammed down on the surface of the desk. THUD. One knee bent low to absorb the landing. A gloved hand braced briefly steadying her weight against the desk’s edge, while the other still held the Dr. Yoda upright. Miraculously, it had not spilled.

CT-312’s chest rose and fell hard beneath the armor. Sweat ran down the sides of her face underneath the helmet. Her eyes narrowed at the scene in front of her. Vents hissing from the repulsor pack, alarms continued to shriek inside her helmet.

[ THERMAL OVERLOAD ]
[ BACKPLATE TEMPERATURE: UNSAFE ]
[ BURN RISK: CONFIRMED ]
[ REPULSOR PACK SHUTDOWN RECOMMENDED ]

The door stood open, a fully suited Mandalorian stood planted between the uninvited guests and the exit. BARCA’s tracking brackets locked around the three High Republic figures. Its system began archiving everything. Surprisingly, one face CT-312 knew well enough that BARCA did not need to label. The other two, the Scout burned into her memory.

Slowly, CT-312 stepped backwards down from the desk. Glass cracked beneath her boots with each shift of weight. She listened as the Mandalorian began addressing the three. Every word spoken was unyielding and severe. The Scout’s attention dropped underneath the desk and something in her went very still.

There she was… the Queen of Eshan. Reduced to hiding under her own desk with her knees drawn to her chest and tears streaked down her face. A Queen who should have been standing tall, not forced small beneath the weight of being cornered in her own office. Through the bond, it hit CT-312 all at once. Leather creaked under the force of her grip, hard enough her knuckles ached. Slowly she forced them open, her pointer finger twitched once. Tapping once lightly against the thigh plate. Her soldier's discipline held. Barely.

CT-312 slowly knelt behind the desk, lowering herself to the Queen’s level. The drink placed carefully to the side. Her hands lifted the helmet, the seals released with a quiet hiss. Dark hair clung faintly to her sweat-damped face. The burn across her back throbbed with every breath. Something hardened in the Scout at the sight. Recalling the words exchanged in the office through the feeds. Strangers who decided they were entitled to enter. To demand, to accuse, to make the Queen of Eshan explain herself down to the bone.

Gloved hands moved to unwind the camouflage scarf. CT-312 spoke low enough for the words belonging only to the space beneath the desk. Her voice was firm, but soft. “You are Quinn Varanin.” She draped the scarf over Quinn’s shoulders. “The Queen of Eshan.” Blue eyes locked with hazel. There was no hesitation or attempt to flatter, only certainty. CT-312 repeated. “You are Quinn Varanin,” her hands drew the scarf gently around Quinn, wrapping it over her shoulders. “You, who went to hell and back to bring back her mother’s soul to the living as a child.” Gently, she wiped one tear track from her cheek. The leather was rough, but the touch was careful and controlled. “You, who helped those you didn’t even know.” CT-312 then reached for the Dr. Yoda and placed it into the Queen’s hands, sliding the straw through the small plastic lid. “You, who are always there for your people and never ask for thanks or anything in return.”

CT-312’s eyes and voice softened by a fraction more. “You are Quinn Varanin, Queen of Eshan.” her head gave a small dip with her eyes giving a slow blink. You do not answer to their judgement. “You do not need to further explain yourself to any of these old Bantha Poodoos.” Blue eyes steady. You are not alone.

With that, CT-312 put her helmet back on. The seal locked with a soft hiss as she stood. A gloved hand extended down to Quinn. “Your Highness.” A way back to her feet that did not demand that she stood by herself. The Scout’s visor focused toward the three Jedi as the Mandalorian finished addressing them and stepped aside to dismiss them from the room. Her other hand settled on the grip, resting on the holstered rifle. Ready if the unwelcomed guests refused to oblige.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Quinn Varanin | Adelle Bastiel | CT-312 | Lily Decoria | Zark San Tekka​

Questioning from Zark shifted the air instantly. The mention of King Aurelian and the events on Weilu acted like a catalyst, turning the tense atmosphere into something brittle. Lorn sat blinking in genuine confusion as the Queen's composure shattered. Her sudden demand for them to leave was sharp, but her physical retreat was even more jarring. Witnessing a head of state scramble beneath her own desk was not on the afternoon's agenda. Lorn turned to Zark, brows furrowing. He harbored little patience for young nobles playing at politics, but this felt like a bizarre overreaction to a question about a boy king.

Tension spiked as Quinn must've pressed a silent alarm. Lorn felt the shift in the Force immediately, the room suddenly feeling half its original size. He remained seated, too shocked by the sight of the hiding Queen to even consider a defensive posture. Before he could process the absurdity of the scene, Lily was already on her feet, apologizing to the furniture and ushering them toward the exit. Events began to move with a frantic, disjointed speed that left Lorn struggling to keep pace.

A new presence surged into the room, flickering with a disciplined, gentle light that stood in stark contrast to the boiling emotions of the office. Lorn turned in his chair to find an imposing Mandalorian blocking the door frame, her armor catching the light. She was clearly the one who had been watching them from the start. A deafening crash punctuated her arrival as the window exploded inward. Lorn's head swung around, eyes widening as another figure in armor vaulted through the shards of glass.

"What the feth is going on around here?" he muttered under his breath.

The newcomer ignored the Jedi entirely, kneeling behind the desk to coax the Queen from her hiding spot. Lorn averted his eyes, feeling a wave of weary cynicism. This was exactly why he had such low opinions of hereditary rule; it produced leaders who were children in spirit, unready for the brutal weight of a hard conversation and difficult decisions. It was a disservice to the Echani people to be led by someone so easily broken by words. Experience and age had taught Lorn that true power didn't hide, yet here was the "Sith Warden," reduced to a child hiding.

The armored woman at the door began her dismissal, her tone brooking no argument as she laid out the new terms of their stay. Lorn listened, absorbing the threat of a diplomatic incident with a grim stoicism. He stood up with a grunt, his joints popping from years of combat and a life lived on the edge of tragedy. He wasn't about to argue with them in an embassy full of angry Mandalorians.

"It was nice meeting you, your majesty," Lorn said toward the desk, his voice flat. He gave Zark a short nod, signaling it was time to go. Stopping directly in front of the Mandalorian at the door, he offered a curt, respectful dip of his head. "A pleasure to meet you as well."

They collected their weapons at the front desk and walked down the embassy steps in silence. Only once they were safely beyond the gates did Lorn turn to Zark, crossing his arms over his chest. He let out a long, heavy sigh.

"That was... concerning," Lorn admitted, his eyes tracking back toward the embassy windows. "I'm not buying the scared young girl act. It doesn't match the combat reports, and she was far too defensive about the right topics. It felt unnecessarily dramatic." He shook his head, the familiar sense of impending disaster settling back into his bones. "We need to inform the Council. Whatever she is, she's a powder keg, and we need to keep eyes on her for the foreseeable future."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Lorn Reingard Lily Decoria Quinn Varanin Adelle Bastiel CT-312

Looking to the other Jedi Council members, "we must leave immediately." Lily's tone was cold and disappointed.

"I believe her majesty has already told us everything we need to know."

Master San Tekka did not rise from his seat with the others or seem to react at all even when one of Quinn's life wardens made a dramatic entrance through shattering glass. If the mandalorians struck down an unarmed Jedi on her orders it would force the Order and maybe even the Republic to act. One life seemed a small price to pay in the grand scheme.

"Thank you Queen Varanin," he addressed the echani as if she were not cowering under a desk, "For a most enlightening conversation."

With another hiss of suction Zark placed the temple guard mask back on his face and at last stood up to join Lorn while Knight Decoria tried her best to hurry them along. Not fast enough to evade a confrontation with one of the mandalorians who intervened to block their escape.

“You have imposed on my hospitality long enough,” she said quietly. Her tone brooked no argument. “Your business with Queen Varanin is concluded. I, however, have business with you.”

"We are not here as representatives of the Republic," Zark admitted after listening to the mandalorian's thinly veiled threats, "Our Order seeks no quarrel with your people, child of Mandalore. May the Force be with you."

The feeling of holding his lightsaber again on their way out felt like releasing a breath Master San Tekka did not realize he had been holding in. He could tell how disappointed and angry Lily was in them both, but they were all still alive so as far as he was concerned, their encounter with Quinn Varanin had gone about as well as it could have.

"That girl is even more dangerous than we feared," the old man said to Lorn once they were back on Republic soil, "Nevertheless, I owe you an apology Knight Decoria. It was not my intention to provoke the queen into expelling us like that. Perhaps I could have treated her more gently."

 

[Lily Decoria]

Location: Naboo - Mandalorian Embassy
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Arwr Da, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Tag: Quinn Varanin | Adelle Bastiel | CT-312 | Lorn Reingard | Zark San Tekka

There was a Mandalorian standing in the doorway and Lily knew that this was not going to be a good sign, it was then followed by a window crashing of a soldier that Lily recognised from previous interactions but she remained silent on. Seeing the soldier was something to note in Lily's mind. As much as Lily wanted to respect Quinn's wishes and leave immediately, she knew that they must suffer the consequences for their actions. Even her own, her silent complicity. It was understandable that the boundaries would be set after this, they were wanting to be set to ensure that all representatives and citizens of the Mandalorian Empire felt protected. Lily was not impressed with Zark's statement. She shook her head, allowing the two male council members to leave. Lily looked over to Adelle, letting out a sigh.

"I will ensure that the Order learns of your rules and that the Jedi do not disturb your peace any further. This matter has gotten far too out of hand." Lily spoke in a soft, apologetic tone, "I am deeply sorry to yourself and to the queen for how my fellow council members have acted today." She wished it was not a reflection of the Order but there were now questions on her mind about it all.

Turning around, "I wish I could have prevented this. I should have done more to prevent this." Lily confessed before leaving the embassy.

Once she left the embassy, Lily Decoria was a storm as she looked to Lorn and Zark. "How dare you! How dare both of you! You lied to me, there was no attempts of being open minded with the queen at all there!"

Lily pointed her finger at Zark, "the apology you owe is to my queen, the woman you harassed after arriving unannounced and uninvited. This was meant to be a respectful meeting, a conversation. Not an interrogation into her past and her family history! What you have done is damage the reputation of our Order! What the pair of you have done is verbal smack someone who said that she only desired what was best for her people!"

There was no calm in her eyes, there was no respect for either council member in this moment, Lily needed to voice her disappointment and she was going to do so without holding back. "You both assume the worse, believe that this was all a deception and that she was playing the scared victim. Not for a moment have you thought about the fact, you could be wrong. What if you are wrong about her? What if she wasn't acting and what you did was just push her more into the arms of the Sith, instead of offering a kind, respectable hand and showing a different path?"

"Just because she doesn't want to be a Jedi, doesn't mean she still can't be redeemed. And the fact is, if that is how we treat people who state that they wish to step away from the Sith, then the Sith have already won." Lily threw her hands in despair as she looked at them. "I don't care if you think I am being naive or biased towards Quinn, I would rather offer a kind hand and help someone who might not wish to be a Sith anymore than smack them down and berate them because someone else once years ago betrayed me." Lily growled, she was disappointed that this council had weaponised her supposed bias towards Quinn as a reason not to come then used their own bias against Quinn to damage what could have been a successful redemption story.

A demonstration that good people could turn even a Sith as intricately bonded as Quinn was to the Sith Order. But all that happened today was a demonstration that Jedi could not look beyond the past. "I am very disappointed in the three of us today and what we did here. If this is how the council wishes to interact with people who are showing signs of wanting to leave the Sith, then I question if this is truly the version of the Jedi that I want to be a part of."

With that said, Lily then turned around and left. There was nothing more that she wished to say and there was nothing she desired to hear from the two of them. Things had gone horribly wrong in her mind and they were not demonstrating even an ounce of sympathy or desire to apologise to the ones that they offended and hurt. That wasn't the type of Jedi Lily believed the Order should be and it was not the type of Jedi Lily thought either one of them were.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Zark San Tekka​

A sharp grunt escaped Lorn at Zark's assessment. The Gatemaster wasn't wrong. The girl had woven herself deep into the Mandalorian structure, and whether that was due to Eshan's geography or her own familial ties mattered less than the result. She had been a Sith weapon against the Alliance, a shadow working with Black Sun against the Republic, and now she sat entrenched as a diplomat. Quinn Varanin had spent years securing influence and collecting allies. The cowering figure in the office didn't align with a resume written in subversion and war.

Hard questions were a necessity, even if Zark's delivery lacked a certain finesse. Lorn appreciated the man's candor, but Lily's reaction was a different storm entirely. He stood in silence as the Battlemaster unleashed her fury, her finger punctuating a tirade that questioned their very fitness as Jedi. It was a lot of fire for a woman whose primary argument was that they had been rude to a Sith Lord. Lorn took the verbal lashing without interruption, watching her until she finally stormed off into the Naboo afternoon.

Once she was out of earshot, Lorn turned his attention back to Zark, moving away from the Embassy. "We may need to keep an eye on her too," he said, his voice dropping to a weary, low register. "My initial instinct was right. She is far too close to the situation. Knight Decoria is either on a path toward whatever Quinn represents without realizing it, or she is completely blinded by her loyalty to that throne and its woeful Queen."

The weight of the day settled into Lorn's joints, a familiar ache that usually preceded a long night of reflecting on failures. He nodded toward the embassy, then back to the Gatemaster. "We should tread carefully with the Council. Our report needs to be precise. But thank you for not escalating the room further, Master San Tekka."

Lorn offered a small, respectful bow, his mind already drifting toward the nearest cantina. He needed a moment of silence and something stronger than tea to wash away the memory of a Queen hiding under a desk. "I'm going to find a drink. I've had enough of diplomacy for one day."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //: Adelle Bastiel //:

The desire for it to all be over finally found resolution. Quinn sat under her desk. She knew the moment she pressed that button, the Embassy would respond. She was still shaken by the previous encounter, and having the two men question her as they did, under the guise of diplomacy, was grating on her. She was alone against the three of them, even if Lily was a considerable kin — she was still a Jedi.

She felt her hand grow cold; the condensation from the cup lingered, and she saw that 312 had arrived with Dr. Yoda's. A small smile crept over her face as she saw the drink at the end of the disastrous encounter. She heard their words, calm against the chaos of her own mind. She could feel it, the phobis device trying to crack through the blanketed suppression. It was angry and fed off of her fear.

Still, Quinn was, as always, stronger than it for the time being. It helped having the clone beside her, speaking words of encouragement. This was just another reminder of why her mother had to suffer under the burden of running an Empire. The Heir was nowhere ready; she even wondered if Srina had feared placing the crown of Eshan upon her head.

Quinn took a sip and placed the drink down. She wanted to remain hidden for the time being, to ensure that the Mandalorians who had marched towards her office, Adelle, and the Jedi were gone, or that the situation had calmed. She didn't want to see their helmets or their armors; there was only so much she could handle in a day.

She was unfit for all her titles and roles… yet, for some reason, people still believed in her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the hand extended for her to take. Quinn would reach out after and allow herself to be pulled out from the desk. She stayed close, the clone in her armor standing almost equal height to her. Quinn didn't dare look at Adelle or see if the Jedi were still here. Her focus was now 312.

She looked at the woman's helmet, for some reason, as an almost-welcome acquaintance. The armor radiated heat; her brow furrowed as she began to understand a bit of the context behind it. Frowning, she let the tips of her fingers cool. A power she rarely ever used, but one she had been taught by her mother, the Empress of the Sith Order. The cryokinesis touched the armor, cooling the metal and hopefully helping the system return to regulation.

Quinn ran her fingers under the helmet. She remembered how it worked previously and undid the latches. And removed it.

"You know the rules…" she smiled as she set it aside. The scarf still hanging from her shoulders, she drew it tighter around her, letting the tips cover the lower half of her face for a moment as her eyes drifted slightly away in thought.

"I think it's time we go home, 312. I fear we've overstayed our welcome for the time being."

Pausing, she looked back towards the Trooper.

"Thank you, you're always there when I need you." She smiled and then turned her attention to Adelle.

"Thank you, Ambassador. I'm sorry for causing problems for you today."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Mandalorian Embassy, Theed, Naboo
Tags: Quinn Varanin

There was nothing more Adelle had to say. Quinn’s discomfort was palpable, making Adelle’s own insides twist. Two of the Jedi were at least courteous in their leaving but that was too little, too late. The masked male… Adelle’s teeth squeaked as she clenched her jaw, refusing to let anger take hold. ‘Child of Mandalore’ indeed. It should have been apparent that the only person with the authority to command security and dismiss unwanted guests was the directly-appointed Ambassador. It appeared etiquette was also absent from this Order’s curriculum in addition to diplomacy.

The Jedi were escorted by security according to standard operating procedures for a place under heightened security. Adelle watched them go, keeping her back to Quinn as the young Echani spoke softly with her head of security. Discreetly, Adelle keyed a command on her left vambrace, adjusting the sensitivity of her aural sensors to where Quinn’s voice was little more than a murmur. The Queen of Eshan had had enough intrusions in her day.

One day maybe Adelle would find the opportunity to ask her about her use of Art of the Small. Her Force presence had been a curiosity to Adelle for a while now. And ever since being in constant proximity to Quinn, ever since the day in her office when Quinn tearfully confessed she was afraid, the technique had become apparent. The why of it remained a mystery. Adelle kept hers small at first because the Mandalorians had historically hated Force users to the point of death, and then it had just become habit.

Why would Quinn need to do something like that? And do it to the point her use of it had become unnoticeable?

"Thank you, Ambassador. I'm sorry for causing problems for you today."

Adelle reached up and released the seals on her buy’ce, lifting the helm off her head before turning just enough so that she wasn’t talking over her shoulder.

“Today’s problems aren’t your fault,” she said, gently. “There were official ways to handle their concerns. They chose instead to do—” Her hand waved at the office, words failing her for a moment. “—this. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin //:
//: Mandalorian Embassy, Naboo //:
//: Attire //:​

CT-312’s gloved hand formed an iron clasp on the grip of the holstered rifle. A very thin line of restraint she held as her attention was now fully on the Ambassador and the Jedi that were making their leave. Her other hand still extended to the Queen. CT-312 felt a gentle pressure of fingers against her glove and the small tremors beneath them. Quinn’s hand found hers. The Scout’s visor remained forward, keeping watch as the Queen rose from beneath the desk.

Her body remained rigid even when the Ambassador had their back turned toward the office and other security personnel appeared to escort the three Jedi off grounds. CT-312 blinked rapidly, twice. A sudden cold spread across her back. The sensation moved too quickly for it to be environmental. It washed over the overheated repulsor pack and armour plating. The relentless fiery throb CT-312 felt on her back beneath the undersuit dulled, easing from a sharp agony into something more bearable. Her focus shifted to the Queen who was standing in front of her, looking back.

Underneath the helmet, confusion washed over the Scout’s face as she angled her visor downward. Blue eyes trailed down the arms that were wrapped around her. A memory flashed through CT-312’s mind— Cold water hammering down from above, broken tiles. Quinn’s hands and presence, stitching her broken body back together. CT-312 didn’t entirely fully understand what Quinn did then, but she understood enough that whatever was happening to the armor’s systems now was her. It was Quinn.

The alarms and warnings splayed across her HUD ceased.

[ BARCA ]
[ BACKPLATE TEMPERATURE: DECREASING… REACHING NORMAL TEMPERATURES ]
[ REPULSOR PACK OUTPUT: STABILIZING… MINOR DAMAGE ]
[ THERMAL DAMAGE: LOWER—MIDDLE—UPPER BACK]
[ BURN RISK: CONFIRMED—CURRENTLY REDUCED ]
[ INTERNAL BACTA-STIM READY ]

CT-312’s visor slowly lifted back up. She was met with hazel eyes. The smallest sign of curiosity slipped through the Scout’s stillness as her head tilted slightly. CT-312 felt the faint pressure of fingers beneath the rim of her helmet. A familiar sensation of a brief, undignified memory of her head and helmet being tugged as one. The latches clicked as the helmet’s seal released with a soft hiss. CT-312 exhaled silently, realizing she had been holding her breath.

As Quinn lifted the helmet away smoothly, CT-312 was greeted with a smile and a gentle reminder. Helmet off when she said so. The gloved hand fell away from the unholstered weapon, dropping back to her side. Some of the tension left CT-312’s body as she eased into more of a relaxed posture. It did not occur to the Scout how close Quinn was until that moment. She was closer than CT-312 had properly registered. The scarf that was wrapped around the Queen’s shoulder brushed lightly against her armor. CT-312 watched as Quinn drew the scarf tighter around, her gaze drifting as she mentioned home. We go home, 312.

‘We go home.’ CT-312 mentally repeated, the words felt foreign. We… Perhaps Quinn had misspoken and had meant I? Home… As head of security, she knew Quinn had multiple homes. But herself? CT-312 had never given the word much consideration. ‘Home.’ There were barracks, ships, and quarters that were assigned or were she slept in when time allowed. But none of them required, let alone had the softness of the word Quinn had just used for the both of—

BARCA interrupted.

A sharp pinch stabbed into the Scout’s back as the suit injected a bacta-stim into the burned skin beneath the undersuit. CT-312’s eyes winced for a second before she smothered it away. The pain and throbbing slowed another degree becoming more manageable. When Quinn looked back at her.

"Thank you, you're always there when I need you."

CT-312 was not prepared for that either… The Queen was saying a lot of funny things to her today. “Your Highnes—” The words spoken to her settled warm yet quietly uncomfortable. Always there. Except… she had not been in the office when the Jedi entered. Arriving was not the same as preventing. “Quinn.” CT-312 lifted one hand, gloved fingers brushed once against the edge of the camouflage scarf that was still wrapped around. “You do not have to thank me for that.” Making a small practical adjustment where the fabric had slightly slipped. “You call. I come.” CT-312 stepped back. Far enough to give the Queen space to face the Ambassador. “And I will continue to be there.” She paused, her jaw tightened for a moment before unclenching, “Even if there is no call.”

Placing the helmet that was set aside under one arm, CT-312 stood beside the Queen as she turned to thank the Ambassador. “Whenever you are ready.” she spoke quietly to Quinn, extended her gloved hand again, palm open.