#fox: bite

“You wish.” Fox said flatly, overcorrecting for the slur that had crept in sometime during their second shared bottle, his bucket firmly resealed again. “You’re a damned eye.”

Cody thought about that for a moment; thought about watching battles from overhead, giving and receiving reports and knowing too many odds too well. He nodded slowly, flexing his hands. 

“If I’m an eye, you’re the teeth.” He said, and it was a bit cruel but it always had been; they’d learned how to swallow it better together. Teeth, Cody considered, and knew he was as right as he was angry — teeth, the smile of the GAR, pretty and presentable and favorable to the public eye, nestled at the heart of the Republic. The Coruscant Guard.