"That's… kinda weird, but okay," Braze murmured, his voice a little fuzzy at the edges, like a comm signal cutting in and out.
"I figured it was sleepwalking, honestly. You looked determined. Like you had a mission to pace every corridor shirtless."
He gave a small shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching, then turned to lead Drystan out of the hallway.
When Drystan returned from his shower, Braze didn't comment on the towel situation, though his glance flicked over with the kind of subtle, sidelong look that implied a thousand unspoken quips, and the discipline not to say a single one.
"This way," he said simply, nodding his head and walking ahead.
He brought Drystan to a modest space just off the central corridor half galley, half lounge. There was a low table surrounded by cushioned benches, a food prep unit tucked into the wall, and a few datapads left strewn about from whoever had last been reading. The place felt lived-in but clean. Like a ship that wasn't trying too hard to impress, just function.
Braze moved efficiently, grabbing a plate and sliding it across the counter. Toasted flatbread, spiced nuna eggs, and a dollop of some purple jam that smelled like berries and star-anise. He handed it over without comment, then turned and retrieved two ceramic mugs from a warming pad nearby.
He passed one to Drystan. The aroma of rich caff hit instantly with the a bold, earthy scent, and perhaps a slight nutty undertone and a hint of spice that lingered at the end like cinnamon.
"Espresso blend. Strong enough to wake a rancor," Braze said
He sat opposite, taking a sip from his own mug before adding, without looking up, "
Figured if I'm hosting sleepwalking drunks in heart boxers, the least I can do is caffeinate them properly."
Braze took another sip of his caff, then gestured vaguely toward the hallway with the mug still in hand.
"If you're tired of playing towel-dancer, I've got other clothes on the ship that might fit you," he offered.
"Not Jedi robes, but they won't get you arrested either."
Braze
