There's an Inyri Forge wandering over to Myn Donos (she knows him later in his life after all, both Rogue Squadron pilots) with two glasses of Whyren's. "You look like you need it," She says with a smile, dripping the glass off at the table next to him.
He looks up--and is somewhat startled by the lovely young woman, but only for a moment before refocusing on the fire. He nods once, and takes the whiskey. "Thanks. Y'might be right."
He blinks, surprised again. Twice in about a minute--this should be routine to him here, but it's just not. "I'm sorry to hear that." He extends a hand with the slightest of smiles. "Myn. Thanks for the drink."
Oh, it appears to be working. A bit. Especially when you take into account Myn's now turned to face her, the fire almost forgotten. "I'm almost afraid to ask where you're from--chances are, it seems, that I'll have no idea where you're talking about."
"Oh I think you'll find it's easier than you think." Inyri says softly. "I'm from Kessel. I used to be in Rogue Squadron...'m taking a break and living on Corellia right now."
"And you survived long enough to... retire?" His eyebrows raise themselves, in spite of himself. "That's... that's impressive."
Then the thought strikes. And here you can't even keep your own squadron alive. He looks back towards the fire briefly--and when he looks back, the visage of stone has returned.
Why am I so tempted to try to reassure her? Didn't this start the other way around? He swallows. Hard. "No, I agree." He looks down at his hands for a long moment, then looks back at Inyri. "So what're you up to down on Corellia?"
Myn's broken in so many places right now, that it probably wouldn't take much effort...
"Sounds like a nice deal," he nods. "I used to live in Tyrena, worked for CorSec." He smiles uncertainly. "I'd almost call those the good old days now."
"It can't get worse," he agrees wholeheartedly. "I appreciate the voice of confidence, though." He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair out of her face, his knuckles just catching her cheek as he removes his hand--and his breath catches for just a moment in his throat.
She takes the other armchair.
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Donos's reactions are a bit slow, and he almost chokes on his Whyren's as he goes to take a sip. "Wait, wait, wait--you said Rogue Squadron?"
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Then the thought strikes. And here you can't even keep your own squadron alive. He looks back towards the fire briefly--and when he looks back, the visage of stone has returned.
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"My sister lives there, I'm playing receptionist right now. She shrugs. Moved into my aunt's house, she left it to our family."
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"Sounds like a nice deal," he nods. "I used to live in Tyrena, worked for CorSec." He smiles uncertainly. "I'd almost call those the good old days now."
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