#notevenstars

Nox, ever one to state the obvious.

He says that like it’s a challenge, as if there's an expectation for him to be impressed by a Sith’s capacity for alienation and abrasiveness. Maybe he is, a little. He’d been with enough people— briefer, simpler affairs— to recognize this for what it is: a species of vulnerability, more effective than tears or pleas for mercy.

More honest, anyway.

"Yeah," Theron says, a half-grin caught somewhere in minute muscle movement, "But you’re my difficult person. And you only do it for attention."

That, also, isn't true. But he sticks to it, let's the moment hang. He's been teaching himself to be comfortable with silences, even if with Nox, every moment carries the threat of drama, or violence, or the universe’s best deadpan joke.

@notevenstars 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: “I’ve seen you before.”

              𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃  𝙾𝙵  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙸𝚂𝙰𝙽𝚂  𝚆𝙰𝚂  𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷  𝚂𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚁  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚇 than akuna had anticipated.  simple, because he was a professional: efficient, discreet, and adept at avoiding the sort of questions that turned wary allies into silent adversaries.  these traits alone were often enough to secure a foothold in most organizations.  difficult, because success, ironically, came with its own set of complications.

the challenge lay in maintaining an equilibrium between proficiency and restraint.  a lone mercenary who delivered results without fail was an asset—until he became a curiosity.  competence, taken to excess, bred suspicion.  bode knew better than to stand out too quickly; rapid ascent invited judgement, the kind that could not only mark him for scrutiny, but also leave him vulnerable to expulsion.  yet caution had its own dangers.  taking the slow, deliberate approach would not go unnoticed either, especially not by his bastard handler, who had an expectation for results.

and so here he was, in a dimly lit bar deep in coruscant’s underbelly, drinking himself into something approximating oblivion while waiting for the partisans to make contact.  it wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, though it was undoubtedly reckless.  leaving himself wide open—vulnerable, in a place like this, was the kind of stupidity he would berate himself for later—particularly when, half a second too late, he registered the presence of a hooded figure sliding onto the stool beside him.

“i’ve seen you before.”

             ❝was i saving the day or making a mess?❞ bode mused before downing the last bitter swallow of his drink.  the glass met the counter with a dull clink before he turned his head — what he saw almost made him regret looking at all.

female.  togruta.  late twenties.  striking, in a way that commanded attention without asking for it.  but it wasn’t her appearance that prompted a ripple of unease through him; it was recognition. ahsoka tano. former padawan of anakin skywalker, the hero with no fear. for a moment, bode briefly considered the possibility that this was some cruel trick of exhaustion and alcohol. it wasn’t.

    ❝i’ve done both,❞ he said at last, feigning nonchalance even as his mind worked at a breakneck pace.  ❝sometimes in the same five minutes.❞