One Big Ol' Rescue - Again.

[Atton Kira]

It was a sweet sentiment, and a touching one. Perhaps it was even one that Atton desperately needed to hear: an outreach from the people he expected to have chased away with secrets revealed. It reminded him that there was still something: still something that he shared with Sadie that none of the others did. Her father might have the monopoly on widening her mind to the ways of the Force. Vittore and Amaros helped hone her ability to look after herself, and with Emelie they provided her with a sense of purpose. Her mother would, well, there would surely be something that would get stumbled upon at some point. History, perhaps? The Ath-Thu'ban legacy had always been more his half-siblings' purview than his. But even in the face of all that, there'd still only be one part of her family who shared her passion for sneaking into computer systems where she wasn't wanted, and fleeing with an armful of liberated secrets.

Yet, even though it was entirely true, Atton still felt something akin to a lie lurking within it.

You're not on your own any more.

Yes he was. It wasn't a petulant disagreement. It wasn't grief or guilt talking. Nor was it ignorance. It was mere, simple fact. Being alone, being solitary, firewalling himself from the rest of the cosmos; that was how Atton lived. That was how he functioned. A few select individuals, a few familiar holonet protocol addresses: they had access to password protected ports. They could breach the firewalls; or at least, the first levels of them. Sadie and Elira, they had access to his vulnerability; but even then, it wasn't all the way. Even then they only saw what he allowed them to see, the deeper truth of Atton Kira buried between too many layers of security and encryption for even Atton himself to decipher. He'd long since forgotten who he was; long since committed to the roles within roles that he'd constructed for himself, lost in a performance that had become the reality of his life.

He offered Sadie a smile regardless.

"Maybe even three," he agreed, voice returned to the softness and sincerity that Sadie had previously unlocked. "And when I run out, I'll keep searching for new things, right up until I'm too old and feeble to speak."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Well, it's good t' know at least some stuff's gonna stay th' same." The point was highlighted by a slight raise of her glass, another mock-toast since she weren't really sure if the sentiment warranted that sort of thing.

Was good to know that her and Atton were on the ups still, and Sadie figured that for most folks within The Exchange that nothing was gonna be upset by her 'rents being around. Vittore was another matter, but she had plans on checking in with him; he'd heard after all and while he'd told her to take care of what she needed to, she still weren't exactly sure how things were on that front. The two of them were pretty solid, but there was a might bit of a difference between So, apparently I'm a Force user an' y' ain't keen on them but I don't think I fall completely in th' category of folks y' hunt and all that complicated mess they were dealing with and So, my dad's a kriffin Jedi. Okay, so maybe it weren't that big of a deal when put that way but it weren't just any Jedi and while Atton had said that there was stuff that Vitt didn't know 'bout how his family and apparently hers were all tangled up, there was some history that Vitt had been personally there for and that made things messy.

Then of course there was the Jedi himself. Sadie couldn't even begin to guess what was going on there. She'd had a lifetime to get used to the thought of being someone's kid - yeah, absentee parents and all, but she knew they'd been out there somewhere in some way. Elira probably had the same feeling about being a mum and Atton had at least the knowing of him being an uncle. Inyos, though? Guy went and just became a dad and found out he missed out on all the cute stages and was dealing with an adult; meant he got to skip the teenage bantha dren too though - trade offs. Guy had just gone and opened himself back up to taking on a proper Padawan too, which Sadie had found out was kinda a big deal. But now this? If she was having a rough time of it, she couldn't even properly imagine what he was doing.

[Inyos Aamoran]

* * *

"- I am being entirely truthful," Inyos insisted. There was something strange about this, some technique that he had not yet learned for how to form words when your mouth insisted on being a smile constantly. It contorted back and forth between the two if he didn't proactively do something; and so he had allowed one side of his mouth to wedge itself permanently in mid smile, focusing mostly on speaking out of the other. "The blast doors were closed, and my clothes were all still on the other side."

The chuckle in his throat wasn't his. It was Elira's, and Inyos was merely fortunate enough to be borrowing it. It fell silent for a moment but didn't leave, as Inyos found his eyes lingering on hers yet again. He'd noticed them, but yet somehow hadn't, all those years ago. Ask him to imagine Elira Asael - and he had, so many times in the years since then - and he knew every detail; could recreate every molecule, every quirking eyebrow, every sparkle of mischief from every teasing smile. Yet for all that recall, he couldn't possibly have noticed her eyes; not really. If he had, then he would still be sat there back on the Maelibus, inescapably captured by them for every day since.

He tore his gaze agonisingly away, and this time the note of laughter that escaped was his own: a faint breath squeezed from his lungs by bashful embarrassment, dislodged by the squirming tirade of twisting feelings and organs that had become the inside of his torso. Inyos couldn't define it, and couldn't understand it. He was a Jedi Knight. More than that, he was Inyos Aamoran. He did not feel; not like this, at least. Not this intensely. Not this much all at once. He wrestled through them, trying to compartmentalise what he felt into terms he could understand and process, but it was like wrestling a stampede back into separate cages: by the time he achieved even a single success, the rest of the herd was long gone, leaving chaos in it's wake. It was everything Inyos was not. It was everything Inyos abhorred. Confusion. Disorder. Disarray. Yet he clung to it desperately. He had missed this, missed this way that Elira made him feel; and after all this time it was more intense than ever, more impossible than ever to even imagine losing. He'd made that mistake once already. Never again.

"I should not have left."

His brow furrowed, eyes struggling as they mountaineered their way back to Elira's face. His voice caught in his throat, gripping white knuckled as if it were the frame of an open airlock threatening to rip the words out into space. With steady breaths to steel himself, he pried the words free one by one.

"Not because of Saidra. Not because of today. I have wished -"

He trailed off. He reached for her hand, with both of his this time, encasing her fingers in a hold that would never want to let go.

"I should have stayed with you."

[Elira Asael]

"You did what you had to," Elira argued, even if it came out in an usually understanding tone rather than her typical antagonistic ones. "We all did."

She would have been lying if she said that having Inyos around suddenly was unpleasant - it just wasn't - but it was complicated. She'd hardened herself to the whole thing, had convinced herself that it had been a meaningless fling between a hurting friend and someone who should have known better but let lust get in the way of common sense. It could be compartmentalized that way and was a wonderful way into fooling herself that she only was missing her crew when the Jedi had left. Elira had known better, though; so had the other members of the crew who remained then and her pain and refusal to deal with it had alienated them all eventually.

Inyos' acceptance of their reunion, of the child they'd both never known, of the sheer joy he seemed to be experiencing was downright infectious, though. Elira had wanted to sulk for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that there had been so much time between then and now, though in truth... had it really? Not in the grand scheme of things, she supposed. Yes, they were both older now and had gained enough stories to occupy and fill the quiet hours, but it felt like it had only been a handful of months with how they sat now, picking up almost exactly where they had left off. Only... it was better somehow. The sadness and weight that Inyos had carried wasn't gone, not completely and Elira never expected it truly would be, but he was different. And damn if that doofy smile of his still work like damn magic to melt away whatever icy exterior she wanted to portray.

It felt wrong, though. Wrong to just suddenly jump back in like this. That wasn't exactly what they were doing - though she had wondered just how much maneuvering they could get away with without pulling out any of the tubes and needles still stuck in her. After all, might as well have some fun before life somehow came and booted her back to harsh reality where this couldn't possibly last. But no, aside from the way that Inyos held her hands and had professed his feelings, they hadn't exactly turned into a pair of lovesick idiots. They were just talking, catching up, the sort of thing that friends were supposed to do after all this time.

Friends. Elira knew the description of them was wrong. Even if part of her did want to hold back for some stubborn reason, she couldn't exactly fully deny how just seeing him again made her feel more... and Force Sake she hated to even think of it is such pathetically sappy terms but... complete. Inyos Aamoran had taken part of her with him when he had left and it sure as hell felt like it may have been a chunk of her heart. Now it was back though, he was back; and even her stubbornness couldn't compete with seemingly endless nights wishing for this exact thing.

"I don't blame you, you know? Never did. I tried to get angry about it sometimes but... the truth was, I just missed having you around." A slight laugh left her and Elira's gaze moved from Inyos to the small machine responsible for pumping painkillers into her system, wondering if she could crank it up in lieu of having anything to drink. There probably was enough, though if the fact she was talking and laughing like told times was anything to go by. "Feels stupid in a way. Like I should be too old for that nonsense, like that sort of thing couldn't touch me. But what can I say, you got to me."

[Inyos Aamoran]

You got to me.

Wasn't that it in a nutshell? Wasn't that them, distilled down to a few simple words? It was a struggle to remember how things had once been, hard to remember Elira making him feel anything other than how he did now; but to begin with, Inyos had found her abrasive. She grated on his every nerve, seeming to relish in every opportunity to tweak, and jab, in some futile attempt to aggravate him. Seldom did she manage to provoke a reaction from Inyos that went beyond irked or irritated; more than anything she was relentless. Perhaps that abrasiveness had simply worn him down. Perhaps that was how she had carved out the groove in his soul that only she seemed to correctly nestle into.

She offered an excuse. A justification. Forgiveness. Inyos wanted to take it, but knew he didn't deserve it.

"I still -"

He caught himself before he restarted the cycle. Another apology, another forgiving dismissal, round and round without it feeling as if the truth of the matter had been addressed. If she forgave him so easily, then he hadn't apologised for the right thing; his remorse was rooted too deeply for that.

A sigh slowly escaped him.

"I was afraid, Elira. Not just of being hunted, not just of being in harm's way. I was afraid of staying. I was afraid because you got to me, too."

His brow furrowed a little, not with sadness, but with focus, trying to arrange the right words in the right order, in the hope that Elira would understand; in the hope that she'd forgive him for the right thing, and that perhaps then he might be able to believe it.

"The Jedi Code says that a Knight should not love. Back then, a Jedi was all I had ever been. All I ever knew. I was afraid that if I loved you, if I let myself love you, then that must mean I wasn't a Jedi. I didn't know what else to be. Didn't want to find out where that path would lead."

A hollow breath of laughter slipped out.

"Ironic really. Fear is not exactly Jedi-like either, and the path I ran down, well -"

His smile had slipped; he made an effort to restore it a little.

"I ended up not being much of a Jedi after all. Though I'm... trying."

The last word was delivered hesitantly. Perhaps the irony of that word would be lost on Elira, but it was not on Inyos. Do or do not. That was the Jedi way. No half measures. Act, don't overthink. Inyos had lived his life that way: leaping before he looked, and trusting the Force to guide him in the right direction. But look what that did. Look what affect that had on the people around him, when he didn't take the time to think about then. The right mentality for a Jedi Knight, perhaps, but if this was the aftermath it left behind, then perhaps that was not what Inyos wanted to be any longer. Perhaps it was time to try being something else, and hope for the best.

"I am still afraid," he admitted. "But I want to try not to be. I want -"

Did he have the right to end that sentence? Did what he wanted matter? It felt greedy. Unfair. Asking for that which he did not deserve. Perhaps he shouldn't do; but then what action did he take? The feelings rushing through him did not feel optional; they did not feel like the sort of thing you could choose to do not. So what was the between? How did you try to love, when in your heart you already did?

The smile flickered into life a little more, Inyos' hands shifting just enough to lift her fingers towards his bowed head. The kiss was gentle, and tentative, and over too soon. His eyes followed her arm back upwards, and the smile nervously tugged a little wider.

"Elira Asael, would you have dinner with me?"

[Elira Asael]

The breath of a laugh that left her just couldn't be helped. She had thought the galaxy's biggest joke played on her was when Mal'achi had stepped into the room she had been hauled in after the Empire had seen fit to seize both herself and her ship. This though? Inyos Aamoran asking her out on a... a date? That won by far. Elira had always known he had this sweet sentimental side to him, maybe that's what had drawn her to him in the first place... well, aside from pure physical attraction.

"What's next, Ra's? Passing notes during class and sneaking off behind the bleachers in the auditorium?" A hint of her usual sarcasm came through, though it was still softened by... well... everything that had happened in the last day or so.

She gave his hand the slightest squeeze, another small amusement-tinted exhale leaving her as she did so.

"Of course I will."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

***

Saying it had been several hells worth of a long day just didn't cut it. She may have been okay if she'd done gone and called it quits after the whole hospital show but that addon at the Elysium had taken all the wind left her sails and just left Sadie on nothing but her own slow willpower to make it back to the Tide. Her feet were practically dragging as she made the ascent up the walk and while the drinks she'd gone and shared with her uncle had a mighty big hand in how she was kinda stumbling along, Sadie was pretty sure she'd done gone and run out of gas long before they'd finished the bottle together.

Times likes these she was glad she didn't wear a chrono, the girl didn't even want to guess at what gorram time it was. Lights were still on when she finally got up the ramp of the ship though. Felt good coming back to the Tide, having her be home rather than some apartment on Cloud City proper. Making her way into the living area weren't no big deal and Sadie figured it was one of them walks she probably could have made blind by now. Even the shape on the couch was familiar in a way that added just a tinge more life to her. Only took a few more steps before she realized Vitt wasn't exactly conscious, though; guy must of fallen asleep waiting up on her. That alone was like a cup of caff, not exactly a remedy for the level of exhaustion running through her but it did help some.

Rather than just plunk herself down in her usual spot, Sadie took the effort to ease herself, trying not to startle her partner from what she was hoping was a well earned rest after the stunts he'd pulled helping out. She could have joined him there she supposed, wouldn't have been the first time they both crashed out on the sofa after binge watching some holofilms, though that usually left them both waking up with various aches from sleeping at far-from-ideal angles. Given the fact he hadn't gone and had a fit over the whole kid of a Jedi thing, she figured he'd rightly deserved a night in bed instead.

She nudged Vitt gently, pushing on his shoulder in an effort to go and wake him up gentle like rather than something meaner.

"Ey, no couch, Cap'n. Don't wanna hear 'bout your back hurtin' in th' mornin'" Was a tease but her heart weren't really in it, Sadie was just too damn tired.

[Vittore Montegue]

"Gah. Whu?"

Vittore blinked a few times, reluctantly catapulted into consciousness. It took a moment for his surroundings to resolve themselves into something comprehensible. Ship. Lounge. Sadie.

Sadie.

"Heyyy," he managed blearily, stretching his eyelids as open as the muscles would take them, hoping the extra whiff of air against eyeball would coax full consciousness back a little faster. He stretched, arms hunched up like some kind of dactyl, one stretching out to drape across the back of the sofa in an almost but not quite embrace in the approximate vicinity of Saidra's shoulders. Things were still - what was the word? Vittore wasn't sure he'd even know the word if he was awake, but things were still definitely something between them. Go through an ordeal like Sadie had, and the prospect of letting anyone even brush against you without your say-so could be pretty damn overwhelming. It was something Vittore had his own painfully earned empathy for; and if Sadie needed time to get a handle on things, she'd get it. Didn't change a thing about how the two felt about each other, and the way Vittore saw it, the patience was worth it if they were gonna do this thing between them right.

The sleepiness made it powerful difficult to keep up that stance though: everything in him wanted him to just wrap an arm around her, rest his head against hers, and go on back to sleep. But no. Not now. No sleep today, he was trying to stay awake. Trying to wait up.

Sadie.

That snapped things into focus, pushing Vittore close enough to sleep-sober that he could function. He shuffled on the couch, sprawled arm turning into a propped elbow, leg hitching up so that he could aim his undivided attention at Sadie.

"You find your uncle?" he asked gently; rhetorical question, but it seemed like the right thing to ask.

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Mmmhmm." Well, at least it weren't some sort of noncommittal grunt that left her. "Found him drownin' his sorrows back at Elysium."

Weren't really the answer needing to be said, she knew what Vitt was asking her but there was trouble making it all right and simple. Information overload, kinda, as she was busy piecing together what Atton had told her along with bits and things that Inyos had. Mucky story indeed. Best she could figure there were some pretty big tangles between them now. One she knew Vitt knew about... the whole, Inyos kinda offing Vitt's mum thing. Was the main reason that neither one had been too pleased to see the other when the Jedi had gone and shown up on Bespin. That other bit, though? 'Bout Vitt's dad, Hugo, being the one who offed the Padawan she was kinda following in the footsteps of? Never mind the fact that it was that loss that apparently were to blame for her parents shacking up in the first place. Was more than enough to make her head hurt, 'course that might have also been stress, or the smidge of a hangover that was no doubt creeping up on her since she stopped drinking.

"He told me th' whole thing, an' I do think th' whole thing this time 'round best as he knew it." She felt her voice trailing off as she spoke.

So this is what it felt like to be Atton, hanging on to secrets you weren't sure you should tell someone. Thing was, she didn't like having secrets, not from Vitt at least. Though him all half asleep and her feeling half dead probably weren't the best time to go make a point of it. Maybe over morning tacos - or mid afternoon tacos - or early evening spring rolls. Frak when was the last time she had eaten?? She really should have thought that one out on the way back home.

"It's just... overwhelmin', y'know? Not... gonna run again or nothin'. Just..." A hand worked it's way up into her hair as she sat forward on the sofa. "I ain't one t' go cryin' 'why me', but damn if it don't feel like I have the kriffin' right t'."

[Vittore Montegue]

It was times like these when Vittore wished he was more of a words person. Being the stoic type who'd rather use two words than twenty was great in the kind of crisis were things were going boom, and pew pew, and all that sort of stuff, but it wasn't so great when the tiny slice of perfection whose life you'd stumbled into had sad eyes and a confused frown.

Vittore's first instinct was a distraction. That was how he dealt with problems like this. Drink 'til you can't think straight, bang until you can't stand, and then pass out in a heap hoping that by the morning you'd have either forgotten, or drempt up some new perspective on the situation. While the Tide's cooler was definitely good for that first part, step two wasn't exactly in the sphere of possibility right now, and that limited his options. Besides, crisis avoidance was more of an Old Vittore sort of thing to do: the guy who'd spent the last few years never staying in one place long enough for problems to take root. Old Vittore had learned that problems had this asshole habit of catching up on you eventually though, and they seemed to gang up in packs to take you down too; something Sadie seemed to be in the middle of a learn by living experience with. New Vittore was something different: so different the paint wasn't even dry just yet. New Vittore has a place to come back to. New Vittore had people to rely on, and care about. New Vittore was the kind of guy who burst into a starport trying to stop the people who mattered from leaving, instead of just waving them off and diving into a bottle the way Old Vittore would have.

Working out what not to do wasn't exactly a great plan, though. Sure, it spared you from doing the sort of thing that made stuff worse, but it was kinda like trying to close a cargo catch in the middle of a hurricane as far as narrowing down your choices went: you'd probably manage eventually, but odds were stuff was gonna go wrong, and you'd end up falling on your ass or getting smacked in the head by something uncomfortable.

There was only one thing Vittore could think of: the one action that seemed better than nothing. Just be there.

Vittore reached out, slowly, letting his fingertips brush against the edge of Sadie's forehead as he snagged her fidgeting hand and led it away from her hair. Carefully he fixed the slight disarray she'd created, coaxing Sadie's eyes to meet his before he spoke.

"None of what y' found out makes a damn difference. Y' still the same Sadie y' were yesterday, an' no amount of knowin' who stuck what in who is gonna make y' any different from what y' are."

A faint flicker of a smile crossed his lips.

"But if y' feelin' the need to do any sort of cryin', y' know I've got a shoulder right here waitin'."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

He made a right fool out of her sometimes and Sadie was fairly sure that her share of the bottle back at Elysium weren't helping none in that regards. Not that it much mattered, after the kinda sudden blurting admissions of how they felt that'd happened a while back she didn't make much effort in hiding those kind of things no more. Whatever the reason, Vitt had done gone and made one of those stupid feeling little half smiles appear on her lips, the kind that only wanted to go full blown rather than vanish.

"Nah, funny bit is I don't feel much like cryin'. Guess I kinda ran myself dry in recent times; over quota."

Only took a few moments of closing her eyes and actually liking the feeling of his hand against her forehead before she said frak it and slumped against his shoulder. Yeah, this was a grand way of telling someone to go to bed and getting yourself to follow the same advice, alright.

"Think 'm just gonna need time t' go an' process it all. Thank frak it just ain't me this time."

She went from being on the verge of nuzzling in all cozy like against him before she kinda went and remembered what had been worrying her in the back of her mind this whole time. Her head went and raised, not fully away, but more in some effort that was doomed to fail to kinda look up and meet Vitt's eyes.

"I... I know this ain't exactly easy on you, neither. I mean... I know y' just kinda tolerate me an' Inyos what with him teaching me an' all. But... Jedi father? I know they ain't exactly y' favorite people an... I know it don't change us, not... really. Right?" She didn't wait for the reply before barging on. "Y' jus' keep takin' my dren in stride, Vitt. Y' sure y're okay with alla this? Startin' t' feel like 'm th' last person y' should be right here like this with."

[Vittore Montegue]

"Don't y' dare think of goin' anywhere."

It came out with a little more force than Vittore might have wanted it to. Not the controlling kind of force, not the overbearing telling her what to do kind; more the hint of panic, splash of fear, reluctant desperation of force. Y'know. The worse kind. The kind that a guy like Vittore shouldn't even have in his vocabulary. What was it Dad always used to say? Every monster has a weakness, son. You've just gotta find it. Yeah. Seemed like Vittore as sure as hell gone and found his own.

Part of him wanted to apologise, or at least to spin it a little; throw in a joke or a deflection to back pedal what it might have seemed like it meant. That was something he was trying not to do, though. Treating every conversation like a battle was a bad habit he'd fallen into. Great if your only objective was getting some floozy blonde drunk enough that both of you would barely remember it in the morning; not so great when you felt like you wanted to etch every single moment together into permacrete in your brain.

Besides, it was a good question. The kind of question that made you think; and about the sort of thing that Vittore had been trying real hard not to think about lately. Sadie was right. Force users had never been his favourite people. He'd never trusted them. Had good reason for that, on account of his mother, the whole Ord Ithil business, and everything else. There was his own uncomfortable parallel of the situation they'd found Elira in as well. The floating knives. The piercing yellow eyes. The chick with the healing hands. Pain, and lightning, and memories grinding him down one session at a time. He'd spent a childhood with his father telling him how evil force users were, how much better off the galaxy was after Palpatine and his jackboots stomping them into near extinction; and every Jedi he'd met since had lived right on up to that expectation, best he could tell.

But it was more complicated than that. He knew that. He'd seen that. Force people talked about all their light side, dark side, hokey religion crap, but Vittore didn't buy it. Good emotions? Bad emotions? And love was supposed to be one of the bad ones? Sure it could make you do crazy things. Sure it would make him do all kinds of stupid if that's what it took to keep Sadie safe. But it was more than that. It was strength. Safety. When you could fall asleep on the couch leaned against each other like this, and wake up having it be the best night's sleep in living memory, that sure as hell wasn't a bad thing. It was all a bunch of crap.

People, on the other hand? Sure, they were good, and bad, and things in between. That was how the galaxy worked, and Vittore knew it. Problem was, his Dad had made pretty damn sure that he wasn't going to go thinking of Force folks as actual people. That was the obstacle. That was the shattered reality that Vittore was trying hard to dissolve away with copious applications of whiskey. You met a girl like Sadie, who didn't even know she had that in her, and sure: she was a person, she'd become one before the Force went and came into the picture. But someone like Inyos? Tangled up with the junk on Ord Ithil, the thing responsible for taking out the thing his mother had become; all possessed by that freakish darkness that the glowy blue-green guy had tackled out of him and through the airlock? That was the kind of thing you put in a box, sealed up with mesh tape, and chucked into the deepest abyss in your mind that you could find.

But then Vittore had met the guy. Properly. Seen how haunted his eyes were, a sight Vittore found in mirrors all the damn time. And there was the way he was with Sadie, the history he had with her, and the snippets of this and that he'd heard from her and managed to prize out of Kira. Finding out that he was Sadie's father? It fit, and hearing a shred of how that had gone down... Inyos Aamoran wasn't some monster, doing freakish things and breaking all the laws of physics. He was just a guy. A lost, confused, struggling screw-up just trying to muddle his way through the 'verse, same as the rest of them.

"Tolerant ain't exactly a word I'm used t' hearin' aimed in my direction," he admitted quietly, trying to ensure that he sounded like he'd given the question all the due consideration it deserved. "But with Inyos? With your dad? It's -"

The right word didn't offer itself up. Vittore screwed his face up in a shrug.

"He's good people, far as I can tell. He's done right by you lately, an' when y' needed him, it kinda sounds like he mystical voodoo tracked you down from clean across the cosmos. Got a lot a' respect for a guy who goes out of his way t' be there for my girl when it matters."

My girl. Was kinda hard not to smile, hearing a phrase like that coming out of his own mouth, and knowing it meant Sadie. He shifted a little, adjusting his posture just enough to make Sadie's head extra comfortable against his shoulder. A quick, gentle kiss was stolen against the top of her head.

"But you let him know from me: if he hurts you, or walks out y' again or whatever the hell happened, their ain't a single corner a' this galaxy or any other were he'll be safe from me. They may be the gene donors who made you happen in the first place, but I'm your -"

He faltered, hesitated, tripping over the end of that sentence. Her what? He could think of a few words to throw on there, but they all felt crap; some of them underselling, some of them maybe overselling in a way that might send Sadie running for the hills. Wasn't really a consideration he had to deal with all that often; only times he had, he'd coasted through on carefully phrased sentences until he heard the word the lady had gone and picked out. A mix of anxious and curious started squirming in his stomach, wondering just how the hell Sadie would go and introduce him to someone new.

Vittore went and picked the only word that felt right.

"- yours."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

Sadie couldn't help but laugh a bit, not in any mean sort of way, just in the pure kind of amusement that came with listening to Vitt making the same struggle for a word that she found herself doing quite a bit of these days. They'd probably have to settle on something some day, that weren't now though.

Hell, none of what they'd talked about really was supposed to be now and the yawn she went and stifled 'gainst the back of her hand was a solid reminder of that.

"'M pretty sure he knows. Kinda thinkin' they all know now." Yeah, so the booze and the tiredness were definitely conspiring against her as far as making sense was starting to head. "Got a partner that's got m' back no matter what th' verse goes and lobs at me."

Sadie pushed herself up gently, common sense going and reminding her 'bout the whole stop sleeping on th' couch thing.

"Y'know that's not exactly why I went and woke y' up. Was gonna try an' shoo y' off t' y're cabin. Think we both could go an' use a better night sleep after all this dren."

Something went and twisted in her, in thinking about them both just parting ways and going off to their own spaces like it weren't no big deal. Sure, she liked having her own space, it was something new and kinda exciting really, but when things were falling into that too much category... well, then it felt mighty huge and kinda lonesome. She usually went and retreated off to the cockpit then and slumped into the navigator seat, not that that was exactly more kind to a spine than a sofa were. That was usually when they were out in hyperspace, though, not docked and such.

Stupid thought occurred to her and while on a normal basis she would have kinda shoved it aside instead of bothering Vitt with it, Sadie just couldn't find the effort to go and stop it from being blurted out. "Hey, y' think I could... crash with y' tonight? Not... out here."

Effort to stop it or no, the fact it was sounding so ridiculous brought it to a swift and merciful kind of death before she could go and embarrass herself more. Half formed apologies for the suggestion struggled to be made but for once, rather than giving Vitt an obvious it's cool if no out, she let it lie. Worst he was gonna say was no, yeah? Okay that weren't the worst but no need to go and get all kinds of fatalistic.

[Vittore Montegue]

If this was his subconscious trying to play some sort of cruel joke on him, then well played. He'd been pretty certain that he was awake for a few minutes there, but a question like that made him not quite so sure.

"Uh -"

The noise started coming out of his mouth, thoughts scrambling over each other like a horde of Dathomiri undead from one of those trashy horror movies, all groaning and reaching and crawling with the spooky green smoke eyes and all that business. His mind scrambled backwards, back-stepping like the floor was Mustafar, avoiding every grasping attempt to paw at his ankles with their slimy necrotic hands. Groaning, moaning words began to form in his head. Saaaaay yeeessss, the zombified thoughts urged. Saaay yeesss you idioooot...

Vittore blinked, equal parts dazed and confused. He forced a faint well duh frown onto his face, just in case his mental hiccup was interpreted as anything sinister.

"That would be, uh, totally -"

He'd almost made it through a whole quasi-coherent sentence before his mind stumbled off down a frustrating side street. What happened when he said yes? How did this go down, when things were, y'know, the way they were? Obviously there weren't going to be any legs around waists, or clothes on the floor, or bodily fluids swapping places or nothing like that. So, what then? Was he supposed to sweep her up like some sort of princess movie? Walk over there hand in hand like some sort of horny teen drama? Just shuffle along kinda awkward, like that person you'd just said goodbye to before realising you were both gonna leave by the same corridor? Some sort of made up excuse to meet her there -

He was overthinking it, clearly. Over-worrying as well. Didn't feel much like him at all, but around Sadie he always felt like a different person, and for the most part it felt like an improvement. This time though, a dash of Old Vittore was what the situation needed.

Leaning forward, slowly but intently, Vittore let his hand find it's way back to the side of Sadie's cheek, gently placing a soft and tender kiss against her lips.

"If by that y' mean, do I wanna wake up next t' you tomorrow?"

His voice was only a little above a whisper, an irrepressible smile tugging at his lips.

"Then hell yes I do."

[Mal'achi Ath-Thu'ban]

***

It just had to be this hangar that was selected, wasn't it? Mal'achi let out an annoyed breath of air even as he tried to tune out the done of the efforts that droids were making as they set about preforming only the most critical of repairs. More extensive work would be necessary if the Anathema was going to return to proper functioning capacity, but it would have to wait until a proper return to base. Still, at least the hangar wasn't a total loss, it still served it's primary function; even if it was a bit... Singed.

Mal'achi let out another breath and decided it was time to square his shoulders as the Lambda-class shuttle pierced the atmospheric shield. From his vantage he could just make out the edge of the Star Destroyer the shuttle had departed from and all it took was that view for his posture to relax a little. Such unnecessary spectacle, just who was the show of force for? Their prey had long since fled and Mal'achi was not one to be intimidated. Though, he did suppose it might be a bit difficult to turn around such a craft in mid hyperspace. Oh well. It would have been a delightful little surprise if only it had managed to actually show up before the merry little band of misfits had fled.

He waited with decreasing patience for the shuttle to land, it's wings to fold up, and the boarding ramp to descend. Thankfully only one figure emerged, rather than the ostentatious and entirely unnecessary accompanying guard detail that most preferred to make an entrance with.

The once Jedi Knight crossed his arms and let out what was perhaps an over-dramatic display of his own in the form of a sigh. "Well, it certainly took you long enough."

[Azrin Shadowstar]

Mirth.

Azrin's scowl deepened. Mal'achi Ath-Thu'ban was the antithesis of the atmosphere Azrin carefully cultivated aboard his ship. An intimidated crew was a crew whose emotions were kept in check: a soft, rumbling baseline of fear and anxiety that he found deeply soothing at times. Mal'achi's wit, sarcasm, and dry humour were like water onto hot coals, a seething, hissing frustration rising from the pit of Azrin's soul as a snarl.

He had made preparations for his arrival, of course. Nothing as pedestrian as physical needs or security requirements: just a simple instruction to the helmsman of his Star Destroyer regarding their course as the ship exited hyperspace. They were to remain high, and force the Anathema to gaze up upon the Star Destroyer looming above them. It was a rudimentary intimidation tactic, but one that Azrin enjoyed; and one he had prepared for, drawing inspiration from one of the Empire's more innovative thinkers, a stylised depiction of a duinogwuin adorned across the ventral hull of his Ophion.

The effect was minimal, but enough. Like the Ophion, the Anathema made use of droids wherever its organic crew was lacking: a necessary preservation of resources in these frugal times. Another source of bleakness and frustration. Azrin grabbed hold of it equally, wrapping the faint whisper of bridge crew intimidation around it, holding the sensations close to his heart like a hot rock to stave off the frigid winter that crawled at him from Mal'achi, leeching the warm rage from his bones.

Azrin Shadowstar stalked down the ramp, unfurling the anger from his shoulders to stand at his full height. A faint predatory smile curled at the corner of his mouth, as he leered down; and yet when his voice escaped it was not a snarl, but a hoarse sing-song half-whisper, as if every fibre of his being found fulfilment in this opportunity to relish Mal'achi's failure.

"I warned you of this, did I not?"

The subtle broadening of Azrin's style flashed a glimpse of teeth.

"Surely, the Rancor knows better than to toy with it's prey."

[Mal'achi Ath-Thu'ban]

If this was Azrin's way of being cheeky, it certainly wasn't appreciated. Oh, surely Mal'achi could appreciate the attempt at humor at other times but now? When he was still in the process of calculating his losses? That was just downright inconsiderate. Not that Shadowstar was exactly known for having even the briefest hint of a sympathetic nature; but it would be nice if he could simply try and not gloat. No matter, Mal'achi still had a few tricks of his own that would surely knock the man down a peg or two again; or at the very least put a stop to this I told you so nonsense.

"But where's the fun in that?"

He half expected something to fall or spark behind him to either emphasize his point or heighten this not-quite embarrassment. Thankfully it never came.

"As picturesque as this may seem, perhaps we should make our way elsewhere? I'm afraid I do have evidence that this wasn't a total loss."

If Mal'achi had thought ahead just a bit, he would have come with holo-projector in hand and displayed the security footage before Azrin could get a word out. It would have been satisfying, though a bit overhanded.

[Azrin Shadowstar]

Azrin's expression faltered, but only by a micron. His brows shifted, the faintest hint of a frown as he probed into Mal'achi, studying his features and intentions. It was such a him thing to say: some consolation, some excuse, to soften the blow of his failure. It irked Azrin to his core, watching Mal'achi learn to survive failure and defeat rather than learning from it; but such was his way, all charm and obfuscation rather than cold, hard, bloody results.

The hungry smile remained on Azrin's lips, a soft chuckle emerging from deep within his core.

"Very well."

He held out an arm in invitation, gesturing towards the bowels of the ship where Mal'achi's evidence waited. Azrin began to imagine how pitiful it would be; how threadbare this curtain of solace must be with so few potential positives to weave into it. Perhaps this would be the time; the opportunity to watch Mal'achi hang himself with his own rope. Oh how Azrin would enjoy it when that day came: when Mal'achi gave him just enough of a reason to run him through and watch the smugness fade from his eyes along with his life. Azrin's heart fluttered at the mere thought of it, the succulent possibility of feeling Mal'achi's spark extinguish in his hands.

Not yet, his mind whispered. Perhaps soon, but not yet.

"Regale me with wonderful tales of how you are not quite the abject failure you appear to be."

[Mal'achi Ath-Thu'ban]

"Must you always think in such binary terms?" Mal'achi called back over his shoulder.

Attention shifting forward once more he knew his stride had more of a spring to it than it should have, but he simply could not tone it down. Failure, Shadowstar had called him. Failure. What a wretch to put things in such simplistic ways. As if Elira Asael was actually important to their needs and losing her was an utterly unforgivable offense. If nothing else, it reduced the number of sharp tongues that could be aimed at him.

It took considerably less time than would have been preferable before they reached the bridge of the Anathema. If Mal'achi had thought better of it he would have chosen a more roundabout route, something to prolong and hopefully irritate Azrin with every step. Another time, perhaps.

Pulling up the security footage from the ship was relatively simple, there were multiple angles available to choose from and it was here that Mal'achi again dragged out the procedure longer than was necessary. When he would sense that Shadowstar's patience was just about at it's limit he brought it to a halt to an image he had already flagged and had ready.

A simple frozen frame appeared in the pre-destroyed hangar. There were several faces of the culprits involves but Mal'achi had narrowed the field of vision to include just three: The Semi unconscious form of Elira Asael, a young woman with strikingly similar features, and a man whose facial characteristics were also echoed in the girl. If only one of the adults and the young woman had been present it perhaps wouldn't have appeared as obvious, even to a trained eye. But with all three?

"I believe that should set things right?"

[Azrin Shadowstar]

Indignation settled on Azrin's brow as he leaned forward, hands still clasped behind him, peering at the faces frozen on the screen. His eyes drank in the details, and the expression slowly faded, melting into a deep, contemplative frown. Mal'achi's sister was easy to recognise; but then there was her rescuer. Azrin knew those features, knew the name they belonged to. Inyos Aamoran. And what was this? Mother's jaw, and father's eyes?

A hint of wonder crept into Azrin's expression. "A child of shadow; a child of light," he uttered softly, a hand rising to his mouth, fingers stroking through whiskers.

But there was more. Something beyond the frame, not quite caught at the moment that Mal'achi had frozen the image, but glimpsed by Azrin's subconscious as it had scrolled past. He reached out, depriving Mal'achi of the controls, winding back the recording in search of a better angle. There: as the Daughter carried Elira Asael towards the vessel of their escape, another figure stood beside her, helping her shoulder the burden. Not Vittore Montegue, though his presence stoked the smouldering embers of ire in the pit of Azrin's soul; no, someone far more important. Far more valuable.

Nen.

The smile that formed on Azrin's lips was not joy, but satisfaction of the deepest kind. He rose back to his full height, turning to face Mal'achi once again. "It appears I owe you an apology," he said, without a hint of hesitation or reluctance; though the curling mirth at the edges of his words made it sound nothing like the sorry it attested to be. "Rather than failure, it appears you have blundered your way into not one success, but two. Not only have you found us our Key -"

He trailed off, words suddenly hardening, a serpentine viscousness oozing into the words like venom.

"- but apparently, our wayward son as well."