#fox and robbers <- oh no there’s a silly title now

[rooksunday]

tags from @/hastalavistabyebye YES

i hadn’t consciously thought about it but ABSOLUTELY catwoman fox (with spicy red hood seasoning)(the murder. i mean the murder.) 🦊 and thorn stabbed their fingers so many times figuring out how to sew those beans on The Fox’s gloves, fox carries a sewing kit in his utility belt to make sure they’re still perfect at the end of the night

(thorn and breha do so much consulting on costumes when the teams unite)

for more see this with @varpusvaras 🦊🫡

“Beloved, what is it? You rarely call so late.”

Bail didn’t answer straight away. He met the eyes of his reflection in the transparisteel of his penthouse apartment, finding the confusion on his face more compelling than the view of Coruscant’s skyline. The last time he’d looked like that—felt like this—was during those first meetings with Breha, when he’d been young and besotted and—

No. Things were different now. His confusion remained but his relationship—his antagonistship with The Fox was entirely different.

“Beloved?”

He’d called Breha off-holo in the hope the conversation would be easier, and yet… Bail sighed and started to watch the speeder traffic passing instead. He could lie to himself but he’d never been able to lie to Breha. He’d never wanted to.

“I’ve met someone,” he told the night.

“You meet many people. Did you meet them through your day job?”

That Breha even knew to ask…

Bail shook his head. Below, he watched a lithe red-clad figure bound from one speeder to another, backflipping between the two, before tackling the driver of a third; Bail knew the backflip wasn’t for aerodynamic reasons, nor conservation of energy, but for the sheer joy of movement, and that he knew such a thing at all meant he was already in too deep.

“No, darling,” he said in response to Breha’s question. “I met him at an evening function.”

“I see.”

“He’s very well-dressed.” Their established code for a fellow vigilante. “Quick-witted,” Bail added, which was code for nothing at all but the truth.

“A charmer?” On our side of the law or theirs, Breha meant.

Bail laughed lightly, watching The Fox ‘charm’ the driver of the speeder with a boot to the face. “He certainly has his moments.”

Had he sounded like this as a young man, when he’d told his friends about the intelligent, compelling, confident woman he’d met?

Bail suspected he had.

A long, comfortable silence followed. Bail and Breha had been together so long that all their silences were comfortable. Bail hoped he’d never take that for granted.

The Fox trussed his target and leapt off the hovering speeder, leaving it almost too long before shooting his grapple and swinging across the levels. Bail swallowed thickly. He hadn’t panicked—whatever else The Fox was, he was startlingly competent—but he wanted to be out there, too, sharing the night.

Then, Breha continued, with a lightness in her voice that Bail easily imagined on her face. “Well then, if that’s the case, perhaps you could introduce us the next time I’m on Coruscant. A young man like that could always use an extra friend, surely. Perhaps some guidance as he navigates that planet of yours.”

Bail smiled and found the courage to meet his own eyes again. For as wide as the galaxy was, no one within it was like Breha.

“Don’t forget your formal wear, my dear,” he said.

The Fox would more than meet his match in Breha.

Breha laughed. “It’ll be the first thing I pack.”