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The exasperated sigh that left Fox's lips resonated around the three customers in front of him. It wasn't something he did often but he had no choice. He had a meeting with the Chancellor in less than an hour and he needed the strongest cup of caf he could get. 

He marched up to the front and stepped in front of a civvie, a pretty one, he noted before cutting off what she was saying and directing his attention to the barista in front of him. 

“One wookiee sized, dark path.” He placed the credits he was given as a tip from an elderly Senator he helped into a taxi. He tried to give it back to her but she insisted he buy himself a real cup of caf. It had become a ritual of theirs, she'd request his help to get a cab, and then ply him with tips. 

Your eyes widened at the disrespect this clone trooper in front of you displayed. How he just cut in ahead of everyone else and interrupted you was unbelievable. 

You cleared your throat to get his attention, which he promptly ignored. 

“Ahem!” 

Fox could hear you clearing your throat constantly, he turned to look at the attractive woman, “You know if you're sick you shouldn't be here. There's enough wrong with the Galaxy you don't need to make everyone else sick.” 

The annoyance you felt had bloomed into anger, as you regarded the sheer level of audacity he displayed. Your mouth gaped open as you glared at him. 

“And close your mouth, beautiful, no one needs to smell what you ate for breakfast.” 

“What!?! My breath does not smell. ” You huffed, “I’ve had enough of your rudeness, trooper or whatever” 

“Commander.”

“Whatever. We have all been waiting in line to get our cup of caffeine. And we don't appreciate having someone who thinks they can throw their weight around jump the line. Go back to the end of the line and cue up like everyone else.”

He let out a growl, “Unfortunately, GAR business requires that I be somewhere on an urgent basis. As much as I apologize for cutting ahead, I don't see anyone else here complaining.”

You were about to rebut when you turned to look at the other five patrons who looked anywhere and everywhere but at you and the Commander. “Irregardless!” 

“That's not a word.”

“Yes it is!” 

“No. It isn't. We clones might not know much about the Galaxy and how civilians live day-to-day but we do know our vocabulary and ‘irregardless’ isn't a word.” 

“Well, as it happens, “irregardless” has been used in writing for over 200 years, and is in the Grand Coruscanti University Dictionary, but that’s beside the point,” an irritated sigh escaped your lips as you waved your hands, “ You're not the only one in a rush! It's my first day and I need to make a good impression on my new boss, and you just chewed up my valuable time.”

Fox let out an annoyed grunt, “You're the one who spent time arguing with me, that's a waste of time, seeing as I’ve had my caf,” he lifted the to-go cup in his hand, “for the past four minutes. Maybe if you weren't so focused on trying to make a point, you wouldn't be holding up the line for everyone else, cutie” 

The way he tilted his helmet at you as he said the word “cutie” made your blood boil, “How dare you–”

“Whoa now, ok, we have plenty of caf for everyone,” the barista broke in, handing you a to-go tray with your order, “We give the Commander leeway for all that he’s done for us, but of course, he could be a little nicer about it, hmm?”

“I did apologize,” Fox pointed out, “But once again, excuse me for needing caffeine so I can keep on protecting you. Now I really need to go.” He nodded his head to the barista, and wished he wasn't wearing his helmet so he could give an eye roll to the civilian as he walked away. 

You grumbled up to the counter, “ugh! He's so …” 

The barista just looked at you, “You know you could've been nicer to the Commander. He does so much for the citizens around here. More than any of the Senators or our so-called Chancellor. You know he personally stopped two armed robberies here. Oh and by the way he also paid for everyone's caf that was lined up. So you don't have to worry about it.”

A feeling of guilt started to build and weigh on you, and seemed even heavier with each word the barista stated. With a mumbled thanks, you dropped a few credits in the tip jar and hurried away. You prayed you wouldn’t be too late for your new job. 

The conversation with the Commander kept replaying in your head, and okay maybe you weren't exactly the nicest but he was also quite rude. Even if he did save the barista… which alright, that's fairly decent of him. But did that give him the right to just be such an audacious pain in the ass? Maybe…. No. No. It didn't, but in truth it didn’t really matter. 

You shook your head as you stood in the lift heading towards your new job. If you happened to run into that particular Commander again, you'd be sure to apologize but right now you needed to focus. You were about to become the secretary for the busiest Commander in the guard. 

Not only was he responsible for the safety of the citizens of Coruscant alongside the CSF (Coruscant Security Force) and the CUP (Coruscant Underworld Police), but also responsible for the safety of the Senators alongside the Senate Guards and Chancellor Palpatine's safety too. He was the main cog in a very big wheel of security. Almost every report and security issue ended up on his desk. 

You took a deep breath as the doors to the lift opened. 

The sheer amount of guards, prisoners, various droids that filled the floor was overwhelming. Not to mention the smell. It was a mix of sweat, blood, stale burnt caf and plasma discharge from a weapon, and something that you pretty sure smelled of excrement; however, it was probably best not to think about it. You looked around to see if you could find some semblance of a guide. 

“Can I help you?” 

The moderated voice from beside you came out of nowhere and made you flinch, nearly spilling your two cups of caf, “Oh… um, yeah. I'm starting today as Commander Fox’s secretary. Not sure where ….” 

“Ah! Right. He did mention that. I'm Thorn, Clone Commander. Basically his second in command.” He gently guided you through the mayhem that was the Coruscant Guards floor. “Ever worked in security before?” 

“No…” you flinched as one prisoner tried to move away from one of the guards, Thorn pulled you back and held you against his side. You were a good-looking woman, Thorn noticed, his brothers would enjoy keeping an eye out for you. He certainly didn’t mind having you against him for a moment.

“Sorry you were saying?” 

“Um… right” you shook off the distraction of the scuffle, “Not on this scale. I worked for a smaller private security firm belonging to one of the banks.” 

Thorn hummed as he deposited you to the safety of Fox's office. “What made you switch?”

“Difference of opinion.” 

“Is that a polite way of saying your boss was an ass?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Yeah, you could say that. I might say he was too busy thinking with his ass.” 

Thorn laughed, “Sounds like a story there.” 

“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” you smiled at him, this Commander was certainly a lot nicer.

Thorn chuckled again, you seemed to have spunk, you would need that here, “I didn't get your name.”

“Sorry,” you held out your hand shaking his as you introduced yourself. You noticed he held your hand for a beat longer than was technically necessary.

“Nice to meet you. And just FYI the Commanders gonna be in a bad mood when he comes back. Don't hold it against him. Fox is great but he's not the easiest guy to get close to. But once he trusts you, you're in.” 

“Why isn't he in a good mood?” 

“Well two reasons. I heard he somewhat got into it with a civilian or civvie, this morning; and he had a meeting with the Chancellor. That always puts him on edge.” 

You simply nodded, “Well, I hope he likes caf because I got him one,” you motioned with your hand.

“As long as it's black, he'll love it. So just have a seat and when the Commander comes back he'll tell you what's next.” 

“Great. Thanks, Thorn.” 

“You're welcome. Hopefully you'll stick around, you seem a lot nicer than the last few, did you know you're his seventh secretary in as many months?” Thorn dropped that bombshell and went to leave. He turned back for just a moment, “Although, I think you might be just what this office needs,” he said mysteriously before giving you a small wave of goodbye.

You weren't sure if that should've made you nervous or just reinforce that he's had crappy secretaries… maybe? Either way you need to get your head in the game and focus on the task in front of you, meeting Commander Fox. 

Fox strode down the hallway like a thundercloud on legs. Today was off to a terrible start. The Chancellor had made him as unsettled as always, but it was that incident at the café that he just couldn’t shake. That woman had gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t understand why. He admitted to himself that she was particularly attractive, but there had been something about her that he just couldn’t shake off. He kept hearing her voice in his head, admonishing him for being rude. He did his best to forget about her, besides he was sure there were to be new headaches here at headquarters, including yet another secretary to try to train.

“Thorn, did the secretary arrive?” he barked out, as he crossed the main office.

“She’s in there, and I think you might like this one,” Thorn told him, sounding suspiciously amused.

There was increased chatter as someone arrived on the floor, you tried to look through the transparisteel wall that separated Fox's office area from the rest of the squad, however everyone seemed to purposefully step in your line of sight. But you had a sneaking suspicion it was the Commander with how quick the guard stood and saluted whoever appeared. With each second and step, your anticipation grew. You stood in front of your desk, giving your best smile as you held out the to-go cup, only for your face to fall as soon as you saw the red and white armour. The same armour and helmet you saw at the café. 

You tried to convince yourself there was no way the Galaxy could be that cruel or that your life was that full of horrible coincidences. 

The thumping in your heart died the moment you locked eyes with the helmet you had berated not even thirty minutes before. You swallowed as he stood in front of you. 

“You've got to be kidding me.” Fox huffed out.

“You're Commander Fox?”

Both of you let out the same profanity at the same time.

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Your brows furrow as you leaf through the files in what has to be the galaxy’s most unorganized filing system, an infuriated sigh leaves your lips, not the first one in the past half hour. With each passing second you can understand why the previous secretaries didn’t last long. Half of them, it appeared, didn't even know their aubresh, much less how to organize according to subject.

Maybe it wouldn't have irritated you so much, if it was only one thing that irked you about this job, but unfortunately it’s the end of a very long first week working at the hardest job you’ve ever had. You didn’t mind the hard work, but somehow having Commander Fox as a boss just makes it ten times harder. You huff as you search for the file you need.

“Why do we even have flimsi files? What type of antiquated system are we running here? Last I checked, computers were invented.”

You grumble mostly to yourself but of course the Commander isn’t very far at any given time. 

“Well, princess, maybe you haven’t heard but there’s a war happening right now, so unfortunately the GAR can’t afford those luxurious automated systems you’re used to. You know, with all our primary funding going towards the war effort?”

Fox couldn’t help himself, he knew he was being an incredibly ridiculous jackass, but no matter how much he wanted to try to get along with her, his mouth just wouldn’t shut up. “Therefore, I don’t believe our filing system is likely to be upgraded to your standards any time soon. And if you’re still lost, maybe pick up a newspaper or turn on the HNE channel to broaden your understanding.” 

You clench your jaw as you straighten up and do your best to smooth down your clothes, giving you a few extra seconds to calm down before you say something you’d regret. 

“I wasn’t asking for anything luxurious, just a system that makes some iota of sense,” you respond frostily, “It would increase efficiency and help the office run better. And for your information, I do know about the war effort. Thank you for your unsolicited opinion, Commander.”

Fox doesn’t trust you, maybe it’s because he finds you attractive or the fact that you fit in so quickly, whatever it is, there is just something about you that irks him. 

“So just to clarify, you believe that you, who've been here all of a week, know how the office should run?” He gives you that annoying helmet tilt to drive you crazy.

“It’s not unusual to expect organization in an office or for it to run with efficiency,” you tell him, “And I’ll have you know that a good secretary, should be able to see areas that need improvements and could benefit from more attention after a week, if they’re doing their job properly.”

“Or perhaps you need to spend more time learning our organization instead of changing things to suit you?” Fox retorts, his suspicion towards her growing. None of his other secretaries even bothered to mention half the things you’ve brought to his attention. He wondered if maybe this was a way for you to infiltrate, to gather information?

“Is this about rearranging my desk again?” You sigh, as he’s been annoyed by that all week, “I told you, by turning it that way I can see the door to the corridor but also into your office, it makes more sense.”

“And I told you, I don’t like you spying on me all the time.” 

“I’m not spying on you! I just need to know if you’re busy or in the middle of something before I let people interrupt you,” you do your best to explain your reasoning, for what feels like the thousandth time. 

Silence fills the space between you, as Fox gives you his blank helmet stare, the one you’ve come to interpret as his ‘I-don’t-trust-you’ stare. You sigh again and turn back to the files, determined to ignore him this time.

Finally you find the last file you need, mumbling a grateful thanks to the Maker.

You don’t bother wasting time, turning to brush past him, only to be kept in place as his rather large warm hand wraps around your arm.

“Remember civvie, you’re still on a trial basis, I have another week to decide if you’re even worthy of this job, and it isn’t up for debate. You might want to try to impress me rather than annoy me,” even though it’s supposed to be a reminder, Fox sounds more like he’s reprimanding you.

You take a deep breath as you swallow another sigh, you make sure your eyes are focused on his visor as you give him a sweet, but very fake smile, “Oh, of course, Commander. After all, it’s my goal to serve and please you.”

It takes Fox a great deal of effort to fight the chuckle that wants to escape his lips, “Be nice if you actually did it,” he quips back at you. He sees a flare of anger flash in your eyes and he smirks at you under his helmet. In the short time you’ve been here, he’s discovered he enjoys pushing your buttons. You make it so easy for him too. 

“Yes, sir,” you grit out through a grimace as you wiggle out of his grasp and huff your way back to your desk, just outside of his office. 

It was a strange setup. But Thorn explained that it had to do with safety, hence the need for two walls. The first wall was a transparisteel wall that separated the office space from the bullpen. The second wall was a half transparisteel and half concrete wall that separated your space from Fox’s. Allowing him to conduct private meetings while still allowing you to work. You felt like you worked in a fishbowl, being observed not just by the bullpen but also by your boss. 

Fox watches you saunter back to your desk, his eyes involuntarily scanning your figure. He grits his teeth forcing himself to focus back on his own work.

If anyone pressed him, he’d have to admit you are working hard and clearly trying your best. In fact, there were errors you caught that he hadn’t noticed, which just reinforced his distrust of you. Especially, because everyone else seemed to like you, however, he couldn’t get past that first argument with you. The more he observed you, the more he could see you were particular about having everything your way, regardless of his own preferences for running the office. Especially that desk thing.

Really, it shouldn’t bother him, it was just a desk being positioned at a different angle, but it had become extremely distracting for him. Every time he raises his head there you are, looking too pretty by half. The number of times he’s caught himself staring at you almost every day this week, is beyond embarrassing. Which added further to his distrust, maybe you’d been sent by someone hoping to disrupt his work, distract him from a potential breach in security. It was the only logical conclusion as to why you were at the cafe, when he’d never seen you there before. 

Whatever the reason you stumbled into his life, he was determined to figure you out. To understand why such an attractive, smart, snarky, quick-witted woman would ever want to work at the GAR. To work with him. Something didn’t add up. He just hoped he was wrong about the feeling in his gut. The feeling that told him something was going to change in his life. 

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