ʟɪʟ' ᴏʟᴇ ᴍᴇ
"Your lightsaber, Master Quin."
The guard's voice wasn't harsh, if anything, he sounded baffled that she'd tried to breeze past the checkpoint with a weapon still clipped to her belt. Ala nearly jumped. She wasn't defiant. She was merely distracted. Merely.
The bravado she'd used to stare down the Sith had evaporated the moment she got home. She'd spent that night curled on her sofa, burying her face in a tub of cheap Nectrose Freeze and sobbing until Lorn walked through the door. Confrontation had never been her gift, but she was damned if she'd let the Council, or this pouting Sith, see the cracks in her foundation.
"Of course... of course," she murmured. She unhooked the hilt and dropped it into the bin. The metallic thud was followed by the finality of a latch. The weapon was gone, locked away in shielded storage.
A cold wave of defencelessness washed over her. As she stepped through the scanners and into the hall, the Force felt muffled, the dampeners stripping away her connection and leaving her feeling raw and exposed. Ella Nova was the only prisoner in this block, tucked around an L-shaped corridor to keep her out of sight.
Ala stopped just before the turn. She closed her eyes, drawing in a few jagged, deep breaths to find her center. Once she rounded that corner, the mask had to be seamless. Fake it 'til you make it, Ala.
The scuff of her boots on the floor announced her arrival long before she came into view. She stepped around the bend, stopping a few meters from the shimmering energy barrier that held Ella Nova.
"I trust your meals are being delivered on schedule?" Ala asked, her voice steadier than her heart. "What are they feeding you these days?"