Tycho opened the door, a wry smile on his face. "Ferus, I presume. Come in." He stepped to the side and gestured into the plainly furnished apartment. His eyes ran up and down his guest. So young. So kriffing young. Anakin and Padme might look physically close to the same age, but they were both 20 years older ... Tycho shook his head minutely. They were here to get drunk, not to psychoanalyze.
Tycho crossed the room and collected a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "Here," he said, filling both glasses, "it's not quite Whyren's reserve, but it's pretty good ..." He held the glass out.
'Celchu,' he said. 'Or would you prefer I call you by your first name?'
He watched Tycho fill the glasses and hand one to him. He lifted an eyebrow at how full the glass was. Tycho had apparently meant business when he'd said he needed a drink.
Which was right in line with how Ferus had been thinking, so of course he was game.
He sat down and took a gulp of the whiskey. It was as Tycho had said - not quite Whyren's but pretty good. It burned a little going down and he had to suppress a cough.
He really didn't want to look like some kid who couldn't handle his liquor.
Tycho flashed a half smile. "Calling me Tycho is fine," he said. He held his own glass and watched as Ferus settled on the sofa and took a drink. Tycho could see the faint grimace, and the suppressed cough. Watching Ferus reminded him so strongly of the young pilots who had served under him; so young and cocky and eager to prove they were men or women. The thought made him both nostalgic and a little melancholy. Tycho had tried to be a mentor and a friend to those young pilots, as well as a commander, but he'd also sent many of them out to die. With both these thoughts, and thoughts of what had occurred over the past two days circling around in his head, Tycho settled down onto the couch across from Ferus and contemplated the amber colored liquid in his glass
( ... )
Ferus watched Tycho from over the rim of his glass as he lifted it to take another belt. Tycho was a handsome man who looked even more handsome when he smiled (how fleeting that little half smile), but there was an undeniable air of sadness? regret?... something about him.
If that was indeed the case, knowing what little he did about his own future, Ferus thought he might be able to understand that.
He mulled over Tycho's words.
'Hard truths and unpleasant tasks? You mean like accepting the fact that a woman like Padmé inexplicably loves a man like Skywalker? Even after-- even after everything he did? To the Republic? To the Jedi? To her?'
He cringed but could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
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Tycho crossed the room and collected a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "Here," he said, filling both glasses, "it's not quite Whyren's reserve, but it's pretty good ..." He held the glass out.
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'Celchu,' he said. 'Or would you prefer I call you by your first name?'
He watched Tycho fill the glasses and hand one to him. He lifted an eyebrow at how full the glass was. Tycho had apparently meant business when he'd said he needed a drink.
Which was right in line with how Ferus had been thinking, so of course he was game.
He sat down and took a gulp of the whiskey. It was as Tycho had said - not quite Whyren's but pretty good. It burned a little going down and he had to suppress a cough.
He really didn't want to look like some kid who couldn't handle his liquor.
Reply
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If that was indeed the case, knowing what little he did about his own future, Ferus thought he might be able to understand that.
He mulled over Tycho's words.
'Hard truths and unpleasant tasks? You mean like accepting the fact that a woman like Padmé inexplicably loves a man like Skywalker? Even after-- even after everything he did? To the Republic? To the Jedi? To her?'
He cringed but could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
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