#wipweek

Maybe it’s not true for other hockey players, but Chris gets déjà vu a lot. Like, today Chris is eating breakfast with Jeff and Finny and Koala and Horse, listening to them talk about what they did on the break, and, okay, it’s a Hilton this time, not a Marriott, but it’s pretty much exactly like their last breakfast before All-Stars, all it needs is—

“What UP, losers!” Shane shouts in his ear. “How was Cabo?” He throws himself into the chair next to Chris, leaning so far in he threatens Chris’s oatmeal. Chris was a little afraid he’d get soft about the Shane Milligan experience, give himself away to the team, but it turns out this fear was unfounded. If anything, he shoves Shane harder than usual.

“Better than wherever you went,” says Finny.

“Impossible! Nothing better than sitting on the beach for a week and getting laid, bro!” Chris winces.

“I can’t believe you have any luck picking up outside of Edmonton. Do the ladies in Mexico even know what hockey is? There’s no way they like you for your face, buddy.”

“Lots of tourists go to Mexico,” Jeff points out. “Maybe some of them are Canadian. And near-sighted.”

“Fuck you very much,” says Shane, cheerfully. “Berge can back me up, tell ‘em, Bergs.” Chris winces more deeply.

“Oh, hey, yeah, you were both in—wherever,” says Finny.

“Puerto Vallarta,” says Chris.

“Crazy coincidence,” says Shane. “We were even at the same hotel.”

“Please tell us,” says Koala, “did Millsy get laid?” Shane elbows Chris; Chris elbows him back, harder.

“Millsy got laid.” Answering this question would be torture for Chris under any circumstances, so he tries to channel a typical level of Shane-Milligan-induced awkwardness, and he thinks he’s succeeding. They all think he’s a weirdo anyway.

“Hottest piece I ever had,” says Shane. Chris chokes on his oatmeal.

“Oh, Berge does not agree!” says Koala, looking way too interested, but fortunately he’s drowned out by Finny, whose voice has risen with his excitement: “You only hooked up once? Weak.”

“I don’t think it counts as only once if there were repeats,” Shane says, cramming an entire blueberry muffin into his mouth. It is not a mini-muffin. Disgusting.

“Wait, wait, wait!” says Finny. “Since when does king fuckboy do repeats?”

“Hehkg,” says Shane around the muffin. Finny kicks Chris under the table—lightly, he’s not stupid—and says:

“Confirm or deny, Berge!”

“How would he know?” asks Jeff. Finally, a voice of reason.

“They spent, like, the whole week together; it’s all over Ganner’s Insta. If he was banging the same chick every night Bergs would know.” Chris closes his eyes and wills his voice to be steady. The only way out is through.

“There were repeats.” Shane elbows him again, but it’s not hard, it’s, like, a nice elbow, if that’s a thing that exists. Acknowledgment for Chris having his back.

“Damn, you must really like this girl,” says Finny. “Where’s she from? You get her number? You going to try to hook up again?” Chris stares intently at what’s left of his oatmeal. He’s kind of lost his appetite. Maybe he should add more fruit. Fruit is good for you.

“I sure want to,” Shane says, “but I dunno. It’s hard, during the season. You know.” Everyone at the table nods. They know.

“My girlfriend break up with me when I come to NHL,” volunteers Koala. “She said, it’s too long distance, too hard. You remember, Jeff.”

“Yeah, it sucked,” Jeff says, reaching around Finny to give Koala’s shoulder a pat. He’s kind of the team dad, everybody goes to him with shit like that. “But hey, Millsy, it’s worth it, if you like her that much.”

“And you said she’s hot!” says Finny. “You get pictures?” Despite himself, Chris lets out a small, pained noise. There are so many pictures, if only Finny knew it. Koala’s eyes cut to him, and Chris quickly drops his gaze to his bowl again.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and ‘gram,” says Shane, a total lie. Horse, who’s been silent while he demolishes an omelet—because he somehow has much better table manners than Shane Milligan—stabs the air with his fork and says:

“That’s bullshit, you liar, you post every hot chick you meet! Unless, whoa—dude!” His eyes go wide. “Is she, like, famous? Did you hook up with a real, like, celebrity?”

“Was it Tate McRae?” says Finny. “I bet it was Tate McRae.”

“Nah,” says Horse, “she’s still with that asshole from the Devils.”

“No,” says Koala, “she break up with him forever ago; she’s dating Benson Boone.” There’s a short silence. “What,” he says, defensively, “I read it in People.” Jeff snorts.

“Good English practice, Eeli, keep it up. Let’s get going, eh, boys? Puck won’t shoot itself.” That gets everybody moving; they all clear out except Shane, who’s still eating, and Chris, who’s busy dying a thousand deaths.

“Hey,” says Shane, putting one hand on Chris’s shoulder and shoving an entire sausage link in his mouth with the other, “you good?” He isn’t even using a fork.

“I cannot believe you.”

“Relax, dude, those guys are one hundred percent convinced that I hooked up with Tate McRae or her non-union Mexican equivalent on vacation.”

“You what,” says Chris.

“Never mind, just—it’s all cool, okay?” He shakes Chris’s shoulder, gently.

“You lied; you absolutely kiss and ‘gram!”

“Yeah, maybe, but that’s the only lie I’ve told today.”

“I can’t believe you,” he repeats.

“And how did you convince them to give Lothal the budget?” He doesn’t give it much thought, but something tells him she would be in a worse mood if she didn’t get it. “I take it you got the budget.”

She flashes a bright smile at him.

“Well, of course. The data we put together is good.” Smugness doesn’t really sit well with him, but he’s in a good mood and can make little concessions—he’s learned he’s always making concessions when Arihnda is concerned. And they do work well together, after all. “That with my speech convinced them that Lothal is a safe investment. Although…” she seems reticent at first, but then shrugs and adds, “Tarkin seems to favor you, that may have played a part as well.”

He's a… cordial relationship with the Grand Moff. But that’s as far as it goes.

“Tarkin doesn’t play favorites,” he comments. He has to, if he wants the conversation to keep going. She seems to love talking about politics and people involved in those political games. And even though he cares very little for it, he can indulge once in a while.

“He usually doesn’t, but when it does benefit him, he plays favorites just alright.”

She shivers. For a moment, he wonders if the air around them is getting chillier. But she shakes her head and focuses her attention back on him. He can’t help but notice how the lines around her mouth became tenser just a moment ago as she spoke about Tarkin.

Thrawn knows she’s no stranger to dealing with Tarkin. That’s how she managed to get the Grand Moff to give him and Vanto a career boast years ago. To this day, he doesn’t know how she did it.

He files this information for later research and for a future—he hopes—conversation.

“Krennic doesn’t like you, but he doesn’t like Tarkin either. The sentiment is mutual from what I could see today.”

“The enemy of my enemy…” he muses. 

“You are learning something, after all.”

He flashes her a sardonic smile. If Ar’alani could see him right now, she’d be proud of him.

“Still, we all work for the Empire. I do not think Tarkin would favor Lothal if our data wasn’t acceptable.”

She chuckles.

“People work for themselves,” she corrects him. “Tarkin especially. Sometimes his interests happen to align with those of the Empire.” There’s a frown on her face as she adds, “I see I still have a lot to teach you, Grand Admiral.”

It gives him some hope. It does seem to bode well to their future. To keep Arihnda on his side, if needed, he doesn’t mind always staying behind on the Empire politics.

He wonders what Ar’alani would say if she saw him now. The man who promised to study and master politics happy to remain oblivious if it kept him close to a human woman.

“I prefer to think that our private interests are not above those of the Empire.”

She shakes her head, as if he’s a lost cause.

“Suit yourself, Grand Admiral.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them. He wonders if she’s going to leave the airspeeder now—leave him. But she looks ahead and asks in a serious tone.