#not really a spoiler but just tagging in case

[sunsetmaidenwrites]

An Essay on SamBucky

Just got back from seeing Captain America: Brave New World and am full of thoughts. The following contains Sambucky-centric thoughts, head canons, and spoilers based on the movie. (I have a separate post that includes my overall thoughts on the movie but this one is solely Sambucky.)

Sambucky nation--we rise! No divorce era for us! (Though it did provide for some awesome, angsty fics). I hope the trend continues with Thunderbolts*. Bucky is obviously looking rougher there than he did in this movie, so we're not out of the woods yet, but I'm feeling pretty good about our chances.

There's so much to say here. Multiple Bucky mentions (Sam alluding to Bucky when he talks about having a friend who was controlled by trigger words.), a picture of SamBucky prominently displayed at Sam's headquarters, Bucky showing up as emotional support when Sam needs him most, the hug, the "Buck" and the "I love you, Buddy." All of these have already been mentioned a lot, though, so for this post (who am I kidding this is an essay!), I would like to highlight a few points pertaining to the movie. I haven't really seen discussed in the Sambucky tag yet.

First, Sam says the following to Bucky at the hospital:

"Joaquin’s in here. Isaiah’s in prison. And Sterns…I had him. I had Sterns right in my hands but he got away." Bucky is given no additional backstory here, which means he already knows who Sterns is and what Sam is dealing with. This indicates Sam and Bucky are in regular contact with Sam keeping Bucky filled in on what's happening. This isn't just a case of Bucky seeing news footage and immediately going to Sam. Bucky is an active part of Sam's life and support system.

Then we have Bucky's line:

"Steve gave people something to believe in, but you give them something to aspire to." Bucky's admiration and devotion to Sam here is quite evident. I fully believe Bucky Barnes is all in for Sam Wilson and has been probably for longer than even he realizes.

Then toward the end of the scene where we get our iconic "Thanks Buck" and "I love you, Buddy" moment:

We have a wealth of unspoken communication here. Sam and Bucky seem to have a whole conversation with both their eyes and body language before they speak these words. Sam looks at Bucky. Looks down at (presumably) Bucky's outstretched hand. Then his eyes cut back up to Bucky. Then they cut back down as he shakes Bucky's hand, then he looks back up at Bucky. For Bucky's part, his eyes never leave Sam's face during the entirety of this. It's only right before he says "I love you, Buddy" that his gaze cuts down from Sam's face. After saying the words, Bucky proceeds to back away and Sam watches him go. The way this scene plays out, and the choices Mackie and Stan make leave a lot of room for subtext and interpretation, imo.

Right after this scene, we also get the female agent coming in with questions/comments about Bucky to Sam, alluding to a possible interest which Sam shuts down with "He's 110 years old." Look, it might make sense for Sam to try to nip a Bucky/Sarah potential connection in the bud like he did in TFATWS and it not mean anything (that's another essay for another day. I wasn't on Tumblr back then to share my thoughts on that.); after all, that's his sister and Bucky was riding on his last nerve through all the previous episodes at that point. It does not, however, make sense for Sam to insert himself into the narrative at this point and try to dissuade a random CIA agent from showing interest in Bucky if Bucky is just his friend and/or Sam's interest in him is purely platonic. It just doesn't. I cannot come up with a logical explanation for this besides the obvious 'that man is mine, step off' conclusion.

And for my last point:

During Sam's final showdown with the red hulk, with the outcome uncertain, and defeat (and therefore death) potentially eminent, Sam proceeds to bitch about Bucky under his breath. "Bucky is full of so much shit..." I know this is supposed to be funny and snarky, but it's also quite telling. We know that the signature of SamBucky's relationship--whether it's platonic or romantic--is the bickering. Not only is Sam spending his potential last moments ranting about Bucky (again, the staple of their relationship), he's also spending them thinking about Bucky. He's going out there facing odds that seem insurmountable and it's Bucky that's on his mind.

So, in conclusion, they're in love.

[unintentionaloracle]

Let's Try This Again [Fic]

(The Bloodline Doesn't Know Part Four/Finale)

(Part One, Two, and Three)

Happy Valentine's Day! Here it is! The end of the fic I did not intend to make a four parter (with part four being the hardest and with the most killed darlings) yet here we are!

Summary: In the wake of The Bloodline's explosion and Sami's secrets being revealed, Kevin calls on some advice. Sami reflects. And Roman, well... Can Sami get back what he lost? And will these men just...you know...talk to each other?

(Also I have mentions of Ambreigns (or would it be Moxreigns in this case?) but I kinda don't wanna tag it because...well, spoilers...(Trust me it hurt me too especially because I wanted to go more into it but pacing))

 They'd ran away to some no-name motel after the post-Hell In A Cell SmackDown, like an outlaw couple on the run. Kevin knew that was how everyone probably saw them. Bonnie and Clyde. (Or maybe Bobby and Clyde?) He'd carried Sami over the threshold and slammed the door behind him, locking it before dropping him on the bed before crawling atop his partner in crime. 

 (He wished he could've done this the night he saved him, but that damn medical team whisked him away too fast.)

 They kissed, Kevin knocking Sami’s damn hat away and gripping his lover's hair as best he could (he almost wished it was longer). Sami clung to him. As he moved on to kissing his neck, Sami went rigid, his nails digging into Kevin's back. He'd almost enjoy the sensation, if Sami hadn't let out an uncomfortable whimper. Kevin stopped immediately.

 “You don't want this?” Kevin asked.

 Sami shook his head. “I do want it. I want it so bad, baby. It's just...I still can't believe I did all that. Did you hear the crowd? No one's gonna forgive me...” He said.

 “Hey,” Kevin said, cupping his face. “I'm alive because of you. We're together again because of you. They may not love you, but I do. That's worth it, right? That's enough?” He asked, not sure where that last question came from.

 Sami looked into his eyes, his expression going soft. “Yeah. I've...I've missed you. I've missed us...” He stroked Kevin's face.

 Kevin smirked, grabbing his hand and kissing his wrist. “I’ve missed you, too. Besides, what has anyone else gotten you? Nothing. Stick with me, Sami. I'll give you everything: titles, the world,” he leaned into his ear and practically purred, “me. Do you want that?”

 Sami practically melted in his arms. “Yes~”

 Kevin fumbled with Sami's jacket and shirt, buzzing with excitement. Yeah, he'd manipulated him to get to this point, but he really did miss this. Him. After years apart, he finally had Sami in his bed again, looking at Kevin like the world began and ended with him. Damn, he couldn't wait another minute. Especially when Sami was putty in his hands like this.

 “Good,” he said as he rolled them both over, putting Sami on top, as he kissed him deeply. “Go ahead, you've earned this...”

---

 Kevin sat in the park a block from the arena, all cried out, watching dogs run around. He picked up his phone and redialed the last number he called. He'd been trying for half an hour, but no luck so far.

 “C’mon, pick up this time...” He huffed. The Prizefighter held his breath as the dial tone stopped.

 “Hello? Kevin?” Becky asked.

 A sigh of relief escaped his lips. “Hey, Becky. Glad to hear you...” He took a deep breath. “I need to talk to someone. And you might be the only friend I have left.”

 “What'd Sami do this time?” She asked, somewhat weary.

 “...Why do you assume it's Sami?”

 “You always get a certain tone when it's a Sami problem...” She said simply. “So...what'd he do?”

 Kevin huffed. He explained the whole situation to Becky. How Sami lied and said he was his inside man in The Bloodline. How they'd been hooking up behind closed doors whenever Sami would pass “information” along. How, apparently, Sami had been lying about the nature of their relationship to Roman: that they were merely secretly dating. How Sami possibly broke The Bloodline up (with Jey's help). And finally, how once Sami told him, Kevin stormed out of his own car.

 “He freaking lied to me, Becky! To my face! For weeks! I can't trust anything he said to me! That jerk was probably just using me for my hot body!” Kevin shouted over the phone. The passersby and their dogs all turned their attention to Kevin. He glared at them for being so nosy. They resumed their business.

 “I mean, it's true you're the hot one of the three of us...” Becky said, consolingly. “But what if Sami really did mean well? You know Sami. Guy's got a big heart...”

 “...But he's not as smart as he thinks he is.” Becky and Kevin said, in-sync. They shared a quick laugh.

 Kevin then sighed. “He still shouldn't have lied! Why would he need to lie!?”

 “I mean, lately you've been pretty...aggressive,” Becky stated.

 “What do you mean?”

 “Kevin, how many men's careers have you tried to end with a piledriver in the last few months?” Becky asked, sounding more like his exasperated mother than his possibly only friend.

 He didn't answer. For some reason, he felt a lot less righteous pride about it when Becky put it that way.

 “Uh huh.” She said.

 Kevin rubbed his face. “But still, he usually forgives me for that stuff! Even when I do it to him!” He said.

 “Yeah, because he loves you and you know it. How many times has he thrown away everything he had for you?”

 He looked down at his lap, feeling something he hadn't felt in forever: guilt. “...I love him, too. But he hurt me, Becky. At the end of the day, all I wanted was for him to pick me. To be by my side...”

 “Did you tell him that?”

 “No...”

 Becky took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m not saying you should forgive him, but you should at least tell him that. Maybe hear him out instead of storming out of your car...”

 Kevin groaned. “Ugh, and he has my title, too! He might be a goody two shoes and return it...”

 “Or not. I mean, you've been banging for weeks. If he was gonna steal it back for everyone...”

 “Good point...” Kevin relented. He especially remembered an instance where he had Sami wear the thing (in his underwear, he wasn't a certain influencer) while he took some spicy photos “for the road”. Sami looked so good in gold. Especially with the yellow strands of hair among his copper locks complementing it. He hated the length, but it made a beautiful halo around him on the pillow whenever he–

 Not the time! You're still mad at him! He thought.

 “So, what's your next move?” Becky asked.

 Kevin took a minute to think.

---

 Sami lost track of time as he still sat in Kevin's rental. He'd stopped crying, but he couldn't move. He just felt...numb. Everything had come crashing down on him all at once, and now everything he had was gone. His found family, his best friend/love of his life... All because he just couldn't stop.

 “I just wanted to keep you both...” He said to himself. “I didn't want to lose you, Kev. To hurt you again...but I wasn't ready to let them go...”

 There was a knock at the window. Sami nearly jumped out of his skin. “Kev, I'm sorry,” He said as he went to turn to the window. “I know you want me to–”

 “Hey, Sami,” Roman said, his expression intense but unreadable. “Got a minute?”

 Sami opened the door, practically spilling out the car. He got back to his feet. “Sure.”

 Roman glanced at the discarded Bloodline shirt on the ground. “Kevin took the news well?”

 “Of course he didn't...” Sami said, picking up the shirt. “You came back quick...”

 “I was gone for over an hour,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

 “For you, that's quick...” Sami awkwardly joked. He noticed a mark near the base of Roman's neck. Almost like...a bite? Roman seemed to notice he noticed and shifted his hair to that side to cover it. Sami tried to remember if Roman had had his hair up or down this morning...

 “You wanna know where I've been, don't you, Sami?” Roman asked with a sigh.

 “A little. You kinda stormed out on everyone...I'm sorry about what I said at the meeting, I just–”

 Roman held his hand up. “Don’t. I needed to hear it,” he said. “And I was with an old flame, actually. To talk.”

 Looks like you did way more than “talk”... Sami thought as Roman carefully sat on the hood of the car. He sat beside him. “Did you get back together?”

 “No. The man I wanted him to still be is dead. After we...caught up, we had a talk, and he made that very clear.” Roman said. “I should've known we wouldn't...”

 “Oh,” Sami said. “Roman, I'm so sorry...”

 “It's alright. I think seeing him was good for me. Like, closure, I guess? And he gave me a lot to think about,” he said, glancing at the sky. “Sami, I’ve got three questions for you.”

 “Go ahead,” Sami said, leaning back.

 “You love Kevin, right? Enough to say it?”

  He titled his head at the last sentence. “Of course I do!”

 “And he loves you?”

 “Roman, it’s why I decided to leave in the first place.” Sami said. “And I don't think he'd be this pissed if he didn't love me.”

 Sami could've sworn he saw Roman smile wistfully. “And you love the family?”

 “Yes! If I didn't, I wouldn't have come back! Why are you asking me all this?”

 Roman didn't answer. He just nodded. “Because, unfortunately, you can't quit The Bloodline...”

 Sami sat up, a mixture of grief and fury starting to stir in his heart. “Roman, what the h–”

 “... because as of today, The Bloodline is dissolved.”

 It took a minute for Sami to process. He then smacked Roman's chest, his hand stinging from the impact. “Stop doing that, you jerk!” He chastised as he shook out his poor hand.

 Roman laughed. “Sorry! But you should've seen your face! It was adorable!”

 Sami sulked for a moment. Then he looked over at Roman. “But why?”

 “I realized I’ve been living in the past too much, and I might be dragging you all down because of it. I don't want you guys to feel like you'll rot and grow to resent staying in The Bloodline because of me...”

 Sami caught what Roman said under his breath: “Like Mox said he would've if he'd stayed...”

 Oh... Sami thought, a little bewildered he’d go to Mox, given the prodigal Shield member's current mental state. No wonder you said he was dead...

 There was a pregnant pause. Then Roman took a deep breath.

 “Look, I know I don't really say it, or that I'm very good at showing it, but I love you guys. You, Jey, Jimmy, The Wiseman...hell, even Solo...”

 “And The Tongans and Jacob?” Sami asked.

 “Jury's still out,” Roman joked. “I'm sorry, for how I've treated all of you over the years. I want to try and make it right. Be better. And if that means I have to let you all go and do your thing...then I'll do it.” Roman put his hand on his shoulder.

 Sami felt a rush of joy. Without a second thought, he knocked the hand away and went in for a hug.

  To his pleasant surprise, Roman hugged back. And it was different from the hugs he'd come to expect from The Tribal Chief. There was no sense of a wall between them. No distance. No subtle hint of manipulation. No underlying fear he'd suddenly attack, like petting a lion. This was warm. Firm. Affectionate.

 “Seriously. I love you, Sami...”

 “Love you, too. But careful throwing that around. Kevin might get jealous...” Sami joked.

 Roman broke the hug. “If he hurts you after all this, I'll kick his ass.”

 “Appreciate it, but I need work things out with Kevin on my own.” Sami said.

 Roman shrugged. “Alright. Guess I gotta track down Jey and Jimmy to let ‘em know about The Bloodline, too.”

 Sami checked his phone. “Rhea texted me that she's at Waffle House with Jey...”

 She says he's in a better headspace, too...

 “...And last I heard from Jimmy, he was looking for Heyman at the arena.”

 “Damn. I need to talk to The Wiseman, too...” Roman said. “Well, I'm gonna go find him and Jimmy then, first. Good luck with Kevin, Sami. And everything.”

 “Thanks, Roman. Oh, and one more thing?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Just because we're not a team anymore, doesn't mean we're not family. If you ever need anything...”

 “Of course,” Roman said, genuinely smiling. “Same to you, Sami.”

 Sami smiled as Roman walked away, leaning back on the hood of Kevin's car, the cold air against his bare chest not even registering with him.

 “You're still here?”

 Sami sat up, dropping the shirt as he glanced over to see Kevin. He didn't seem pissed, but he didn't seem happy, either.

 “Sorry! I lost track of time! Plus, you took the keys, so I didn't want to just leave your car unlocked and unattended... I-I can leave now, if–”

 Kevin chuckled. “You know you could probably just lock the door before you close it, right?”

 “...Oh yeah...”

 Kevin shook his head, a small smirk on his face. “You’re ridiculous...”

 “So, do you still want me to go, or...?”

 “No,” Kevin said, glancing down at the discarded Bloodline shirt. He looked at Sami again, in a way Sami could've sworn was soft. “Stay. I want to talk to you...”

 That...gave Sami hope. Sami patted the hood of the car beside him. Kevin shook his head. “Too cold. We can talk in the car.”

 “You sure?”

 “Sami, you're either freezing or happy to see me right now,” Kevin said, nodding to Sami’s chest. He removed his gaudy hoodie and threw it over Sami's shoulders. “Let's talk in the car.”

 Sami blushed, covering his chest before putting on the (surprisingly warm) hoodie. Can't it be both? he thought as they returned to the car. Kevin turned the car on to warm it up to a toasty 68. Sami took a deep breath. “Do you wanna go first?”

 Kevin nodded. “Sami, I hate that you lied to me,” he said bluntly. “I didn't give a damn about the information. I just liked that I thought you picked me first. That you were on my side. I just wanted you, Sami!”

 Sami hung his head. “I just wanted you, too, Kev. I wanted to make you feel good. I know back when I thought the world was against me, all I wanted was someone by my side. You by my side. So I thought if I could give that to you, maybe I could fix everything. That this time I wouldn't have to choose...or break your heart. But I screwed up.”

 “You did.” Kevin said. Then he was quiet for a moment. “I wasn't there for you back then, huh?”

 “I know you tried to help, in your own way...”

 “Kinda like you did, now?”

 Sami chuckled bitterly. “I guess. And hey, apparently Roman's finally trying to be a better person. He ended The Bloodline. So maybe it was somewhat worth it. Now there's nothing to pull me away from you.”

 “Really? Do you think I'm gonna take you back that easily? You broke my heart again, Sami. The Bloodline being gone and Roman finally giving not being a dick a shot is nice, but doesn't fix everything. You know that!”

 “That’s true. And that's why I'm gonna do whatever it takes for you to love me again, or at least make things right by you. I don't care what anyone thinks. I don't care if Cody might drop me as a friend. Hell, I don't care if the only way to make it up to you is to eat a Package Piledriver as many times as it takes!”

 Kevin winced. “I wouldn't go that far...”

 “I just want to see you look at me fondly again. To talk about what stupid nonsense our coworkers are putting us through. To commiserate when we lose and celebrate when we win. To kiss you anywhere and anytime. To wake up knowing my husband is the first thing I'll see and I'll be–”

 “Wait. ‘Husband’, Sami?” Kevin said, awed.

 Sami's face burned. He didn't know how that slipped out. “One day, yeah...”

 Kevin turned a lovely shade of pink. “I mean, it might be a bit soon. We just had a fight, Sami...”

 “Oh.” He said.

 “But I think we can start again,” he said, stroking a strand of hair from Sami's face. “In the hotel room I booked for the weekend. For me and my boyfriend. You can start “making it up to me” there...” He said with a wink and a tongue click.

 Sami felt a weight shift from his shoulders. “Kev!”

 Kevin kissed him. Sami kissed back. As they continued, neither knew how or when Sami managed to climb across the center console and end up in Kevin's lap in the process. Not that they really cared that much.

 “Kevin?” Sami asked with a happy sigh.

 “You want to start making it up to me here in the car first, instead? Then the hotel?” Kevin asked.

 “I know I'm in no place to make demands, but...please~”

 Kevin smirked, reaching down and reclining the front seat as far as it could go, either to go for it there or make the backseat easier to reach. He gripped Sami's hips. “God, you make it hard to stay mad at you.”

 Sami smirked as he peeled off Kevin's shirt. The jacket Kevin had lent him hung off one of his shoulders. “Why do you think we keep getting back together?”

 Kevin gently slid the other side off, letting it collapse off of Sami. “Because I'm good at seducing you to get what I want...” He teased.

 Sami chuckled. “Yeah, well, it helps that you're cute,” he teased back before sending his lips crashing back into him, eager to properly kick off this fresh start.

 And for the first time in weeks, Sami felt no guilt.

[orangez3st]

Coruscant's Bests: Under Pressure

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.14.25: Future | Event Masterlist

↤ Prev [Wolffe × Nico] | ↤ Prev [Fox × Lesiil] | Part 5 of 5

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, star wars swear words (no irl foul language), criminal investigation, graphic description of victim’s body (just bits heh, pun intended), mentions of suicide, mostly conversations, fluff, comfort Character(s): Fox, Lesiil (OC), Wolffe, Nico (OC), BD-6 (Lesiil’s droid), side OC’s (Eisen, Veeli, Titus) Pairing(s): Wolffe × Nico, Fox × Lesiil Word Count: 10.9k A/N: Surprise crossover! For [Wolffe × Nico]’s part, this can be perfectly read as a standalone. But if you're here by [Fox × Lesiil]’s part, this is gonna be a really big spoiler for [Wolffe × Nico]’s story. Go check them out starting here if you're interested! Ah and, the ‘Future’ theme is for [Fox/Lesiil] bcs this is quite a(n unspecified) time skip since the Corrie Butcher case. Mostly this'll be Fox's POV. Also I'm serving a little LesFox fluff 🥹 Additional warning (also a note as to why I don't mark this as NSFW): There's only a pinch of implied sexual acts (worded as “it”) due to the NSFW happening in Wolffe's previous installment. Other than that, the rest of this fic is completely SFW (but do mind the tags above before reading below).

“Ocean spirits give me strength,” Eisen sighs. He pauses for a moment, planting both hands on his hips. “As much as I don't like him, this is straight up grotesque. Poor guy.”

His attention remains fixated on the bloodied pavement where there's a pile of… unrecognizable chunks of someone.

He wouldn't narrate further to himself. Instead, he squeezes his eyes close, his tendrils flicking in discomfort, and turns his body slightly around to face one wall of the tent.

CSF was called in merely seconds after the incident, a flurry of panicked comm calls flooding their emergency line. And one report from police droids on patrol later, the purple Nautolan detective is assigned as lead investigator. Apparently, it turns out to be another high-profile case. Of someone high-profile too, because the body belongs to Shon Vatore, an A-list actor and filmmaker nominated for Osk’arr Awards tonight.

He’d cheer if only the scene wasn't so gnarly.

“Keeping up with the gossip column, Detective?” one of the crime scene analysts strikes up a conversation.

Eisen had ended up walking towards the tent entrance anyway, not wanting to stay a second longer and trample around the area where the body is. “Oh you know me. Always up to date with this kind of thing!” he lightly responds, half-exclaiming. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I can't look at this, sorry. Too much for me.”

He’d been keeping up with the Osk'arr Awards that streamed live while working on some flimsiwork at his desk back at the station. Once he got home, he was just about to sprawl on his worn couch for late night bites with holos and chill when the Inspector rang him. Now his appetite is completely nonexistent.

Coruscant tonight reeks with tragedy and loss. It had been a night of glamour and celebration with all those celebrities attending the awards, but now the entire street where the official after-party was held is closed off and empty. Perimeters are set to prevent the media breathing down their necks. Police officers and on-site investigators, droids and natborns alike, scatter on and about their own businesses.

Before he can march away to help asking the witnesses, his personal commlink beeps of an incoming call. Once reading the name of the caller, he brightens up with a massive toothy grin splitting his face.

“Hey there, partner! What's up?”

“Evening, Eisen. Sorry to disrupt your work,” Lesiil's pleasant voice comes through, and he swears he can hear claps and cheers from the audience somewhere beyond the fourth wall. “Would you mind if I cut to the chase?”

Her urgent tone catches him off guard. “Uh yeah, sure sure.” He moves to a spot on the street that no one walks by. “What's this about?”

“With the ceaseless expression of tearful shock coming from my classmate combined with the Inspector giving me a call, I assume your team needs my help?”

He stares blankly at the pavement before pacing around. “Back up Les, I think I lost you. Inspector called you?”

“Oh, so you weren't told yet, then,” Lesiil is heard mumbling, sounding as confused as he is, before continuing carefully, “Yes, he did. The high-profile case that's taking over the holonews right now?”

“You mean the pile of mangled flesh and bone in white and gold Arrrma’ni? Oh yeah.” As an avid entertainment follower, he of course kept up with the red carpet stills– “Wait, what the heck are you– your help, Les? But you already resigned!”

“Inspector told me that Chief told him to close this case as fast as it was cracked open. I am to provide counsel in this case, so I'm acting consulting detective,” she elaborates calmly, “This case is highly risky to be let simmer too long as it could affect the Motion Picture Academy's public image in the coming future. If we could close this tomorrow, we should.” A pause, her tone growing lighter as she adds, “Chief's words, all that. Not mine.”

“Yeah I'd say this is tragic,” Eisen agrees, taking the information thoroughly to be put into later flimsiwork, “But there's a part of the galaxy that's probably celebrating right now.”

“How do you mean?”

“Right, I forgot you're not into films. You might wanna catch up to it since you're in this case anyway.” He refrains from rolling his eyes due to respect, and that Lesiil had worked with him for a long time. “Might as well brief you about the victim. Shon Vatore, Nic Erlonna’s toxic ex boyfriend. Both A-list actors. Broke up a year ago, made headlines ‘cause they were this dreamy power couple, okay? I shipped them too. But when the truth came out, I couldn't even look at this guy's face anymore. Pantoran charms, but all rotten inside. He was just the worst of the worst.”

“I see,” Lesiil solemnly says, humming. “And this Nic Erlonna? I have heard about her. Fox told me she's in relationship with Commander Wolffe.”

Eisen isn't surprised. “Yeah. You know Wolffe?”

“Of course. He was Railuu’s battalion commander. Good man, that Wolffe.”

“Right? They're so in love. Nicolffe, I mean.”

“It seems so!” She clears her throat. “Well, as much as I'd love to stay on the comm, I have an academic urgency coming up tomorrow so I'm unable to be out there with you. How about you take Beedee in my stead?”

For absolutely not comical purposes Eisen takes a look around cautiously before asking into the commlink, “Isn't that going against Chief's orders?”

“I will handle the consequences. I’m sure there's an alibi I can use since my study in law school is ongoing. This is called going around the rules, Eisen,” Lesiil says, as if she'd already planned this through before comming him, “And BD-6 is as good as me with his scans. Don't forget he's modified specifically as a competent crime scene analyst.” A little pause. “Isn’t that right, Beedee?”

A familiar trill goes through the comm.

Eisen melts a little inside. “I miss Beedee,” he nearly pouts. “Yeah okay, I'll take him down here. But I can't pick him up, I have to stay here.”

“Have one of the officers come by to my apartment, then?”

No. Not since one of the cases they handled together before Lesiil got assigned to the Coruscant Guard where BD-6 was badly damaged by a suspect because these officers couldn't give a shit to watch out for the droid's wellbeing. Eisen’s trust dwindles to their own police officers since then just a little because, well, they're the men of the unit. He needs to work with them. Just not trusting them with Lesiil's droid, is all.

“Ooohh I have a better idea.” He bites his lip to prevent himself from smiling. “And you'll definitely agree with me on this one, Les.”

[STATEMENT] It's been a while since I'm out at night.

Fox glances back and forth, between the binary translation transcript that hovers in one corner of his HUD (a generous modification by Thire) and BD-6, who's clinging to his backplate and the gap between his shoulder bell, the droid’s rectangular head looming over his shoulder. “A while?” he asks.

[STATEMENT] Lesiil goes home from her classes on the dot. Never have an evening out either.

Beneath his helmet, Fox sighs. “Why am I not surprised.”

He parks his speeder a block away due to the set perimeter for the entire street, and now he's forced to reach destination by foot.

Thinking about Lesiil and warm nights shared together – once or twice or perhaps thrice a week if he's not cramped up with senatorial demands and planet-wide security – makes his chest blooming with warmth. They've been together for months now, and everything is looking steady, personal boundaries kept as it is, their relationship tinged with mutual care and love for each other. He's never touched this phase of a relationship before, and overall it always feels special.

And such fact there is, it makes him sometimes turn to relationship advices. To Wolffe. To Bly. Heck, even the holoarticles in the net that's written by evident hopeless romantics who works three part time jobs to survive. It all seems sensible, but it always leaves him uncertain of what he'll do again, and the cycle always goes like that. Lesiil never complains or demands too much, as they, undeniably and excessively, buried under either work or projects.

Fox deliberately snails his pace along the dimmed pavement that's sparse of people yet, blue and purple lights of the planet that never sleeps reflecting on his armor and Beedee’s casings. “You think I should… take her out somewhere?”

Look at him. Now asking a droid for relationship stuff, out of all people.

[STATEMENT] You should, Mister Fox!

He chuckles lowly at the name, keeping his volume out of his helmet low. He'd insisted to omit the mister but the beskar’ad pretended not to listen. “Yeah? Any ideas?”

[QUERY] How about a nice restaurant topside?

Fox gloomily turns his head away from the pavement before him and the droid altogether, as if he could just unhear that statement by doing so. “I don't think I can afford that, Beedee.”

[STATEMENT] I don't think she cares.

He'd been here, but he indulges the beskar'ad anyway. “Yeah?”

[STATEMENT] She only cares how you would just be with her, Mister Fox.

“You're really sure about that.”

[STATEMENT] I am! I know her longer than you, Mister Fox.

Wolffe told him to always please the lady first with his own efforts. Or at least, if they insist and he can't do anything to stop the strong will of a woman.

Like Wolffe's own situation.

Lesiil fails to bring this up, but he pays it no mind. Perhaps the talk will have to come soon; to clear out any possible discomfort and awkwardness, and to provide more clarity and chances for initiation cues.

He's slowed his pace on purpose but once the edge of the perimeter slides into view, Fox picks it up, shifting to speed walks.

“I'll keep that in mind, Beedee. Thank you. Now we've got work to do.”

To make up for wasted time on his accord to talk to his girlfriend's droid wingman about taking her out, BD-6 lets out a small whoop, clinging tighter onto whatever ridge and gap his armor supplies as Fox breaks into a jog towards the central tent. 

Until one of the police droids strides in and halt their endeavors.

“Stop.” It raises both hands as if showing it won't cause harm, too. “You are not authorized to be here. Turn the other way and disperse immediately.”

Fox steps forward challengingly. “Former Detective Lesiil Thrace. We're here in her stead. This is her crime scene analyst droid BD-6, whose presence is explicitly requested by the case's lead investigator. Now you go check that again.”

It shifts its attention almost dumbly at Fox's pointing forefinger at it, before stilling on him. He gets a bad feeling about that.

“Non-sentient organic lifeform; detected. Classification: clone. You are not authorized to be here. Please disperse immediately.”

[STATEMENT] This is Marshal Commander CC-1010 of the Coruscant Guard. We have authorization!

Yeah you tell ‘em Beedee. Atta boy.

“Oi! I did let them in, droid!” A familiar voice shouts in a distance, and grows nearer followed by hasty stomps of boots. “I swear whoever handles your control center deserves a proper ear off.” 

[EXCLAMATION] Eisen!

A wide grin forms in the face of the purple Nautolan detective as he draws nearer, his towering and muscular stature almost puts Fox in a height disadvantage. With a sharp look to the police perimeter droid and a bat of the hand to shoo it off a couple meters to the side, it's almost comical. Proceeding to shut the narrower perimeter barricade ray shields that acts as the entryway, Eisen ushers them in and smiles again at BD-6. “Hey! Long time no see, little guy!”

They reconvene with a high-five.

[STATEMENT] Good to see you too!

“Commander Fox.” Eisen nods at him, who's been waiting patiently (BD-6 was loud with his trills and happy and Fox didn’t want to interrupt the joyful reunion), and clasps his forearm in greeting. “Thank you for taking Lesiil’s place, sir. Sorry to disrupt whatever your schedule is tonight.”

Fox reins in a shrug, his hands go behind his back. “In need of an outing anyway.” He wished tonight is a patrol night and not spreadsheets. “Just not expecting a murder crime scene.”

Making a way towards the center tent, Eisen beckons them to follow. He raises a finger. “So far the term's only limited to ‘crime scene’ only. No confirmation yet – we just got here and got these set up – whether this is self-inflicted or that somebody else is involved…” The Nautolan huffs a big sigh. “But yeah. Dead body, either way.”

“What's Lesiil got to do with this?” Fox asks. “She's not in CSF anymore.”

It's been burning in his mind. When he picked up BD-6 from her apartment, they didn't have much time for Lesiil to fill him in – just a promise that he'll drop BD-6 tomorrow morning before her classes when he makes rounds and a parting kiss.

“She’s ad hoc consulting detective to this case now. With that brilliant mind and top-of-the-world expertise, our Chief asked for her personally so this case is to be closed as soon as possible.”

I mean… she solved the Corrie Butcher case within one kriffing week.

“Outsource, freelance, third-party sort of thing,” Eisen continues to fill Fox in. “That means she has the power to help us in the investigation, limited to analyzing crime scenes and doing investigations of her own with the lead investigator's permit – that's me. And knowing me and Lesiil's partnership history, I'll just let her do what she does. Convenient.”

Behind his helmet, Fox lets out a noise of impression. Never know they've got something like this.

“The position also enables her to be present in court as a witness to testify and present her findings,” the detective supplies additionally, then switches to mumbling as if to himself, “If this ever gets there.”

Fox has made himself aware of the situation before getting here. BD-6 filled him in during the speeder ride. Osk'arr Awards after-party celebration turned to tragedy and loss when one of the nominees allegedly leapt off the rooftop and went splat on the pavement. Wolffe's girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. And emphasis on ‘allegedly’, because who knows it could've been murder?

Eisen flips over one flap of the massive tent for Fox and BD-6 to peer in. Said splat is… absolutely unrecognizable. There's a patch of blue and white, but the entirety is just… broken limbs, chunks of it, a massive blood splatter, and probably 50 or so bright yellow markers because of just how messy it is.

80 floors, he's heard. What the kriff.

BD-6 taps one leg against his shoulder bell repeatedly as if sensing his freeze response upon the stomach-churning sight.

“I can't take you closer in there, or else we have to put on hazmat suits,” Eisen says.

Fox takes in a deep breath and turns away, though his feet remain glued to the ground. “We can see just fine from here.” He switches off the HUD's zoom-in features and sighs deeply.

“BD-6!” one of the analysts beckons the beskar'ad with an enthusiastic wave of the hand, “Come over here! We need to sterilize you first before you get right into scanning!”

[STATEMENT] Coming!

“Can’t take it, sir?” remarks Eisen, a little too amusedly for Fox's liking. The Nautolan watches him bend down slightly so BD-6 can hop down safely and scurry off to the main scene. “I thought you guys have the stomach for it.”

Fox's helmeted glare intensifies the deadpan gesture itself. “Inspecting a grotesque crime scene isn't exactly in the Coruscant Guard's job description, Detective.”

“Right,” Eisen acknowledges with a small smile, sighing again as he takes the scene one last time. They move away from the tent, falling into a relaxed pace yet remaining cautious. “And to be honest, this is the goriest I've seen in my entire career.”

“Carry on, Detective,” prompts Fox, authority returning back to his cadence. “Anything I should know so I may fill in your consulting detective?”

Eisen sighs, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Not much yet. Witness statements are still pouring in. Once we collect everything I'll send all to Lesiil for her to skim through. Maker knows she loves doing that.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “So. From what we've gathered, Nic and Wolffe made an early exit. She looked pretty shaken. Witnesses saw them coming out of the lift, presumably from the rooftop, where allegedly Shon took the fall from. We're still trying to get security footage.”

The mention of Wolffe's name halts Fox in his steps.

No karking way.

Wolffe hasn't always been known as the nicest in the batch – that's Bly and Rex. Wolffe is blunt and direct with everyone he sees, but never violent. There ain't a single bone in his body that'd harm someone to the point of actually killing them.

But what he knows about Wolffe, protectiveness is his second nature. There's no other man who checks in and bonds with his squad like he is. Maybe he takes too much after his General with all the Jedi's paternal love, but it's the value that latches itself onto Wolffe's very personality. Wolffe could never kill another, especially with vengeful motives, if following the fact that the victim is his girlfriend’s ex. It's petty, and Wolffe would never do it without reason. The worst thing he's done and can do is learning droid mechanics with the sole wish of reprogramming a yapping droid that'd make his ears combust inside out if he ever finds one.

“Words spread, and they're divided into two,” Eisen continues, “One said he ended his own life, the other said Nic pushed him off.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Right?” the other man echoes his genuine disbelief, “I swear, there's only two types of people in the galaxy; Nic stans and Nic haters.”

“She wouldn't do this,” Fox insists, agreeing on Eisen's part. To put it bluntly, it seems obvious the detective does believe this incident is entirely self-inflicted (as obvious that the detective is also a big fan of the entertainment industry). “Based on what I've learned about her.”

Eisen hums. “How much?”

“Enough.”

Actually; a lot. Quite a lot. Wolffe is closest to him, both are each other's confidantes, and Nic Erlonna drops by once or twice to CG Headquarters.

“We need to question Nic, too. Hoping she wouldn't lawyer up. This must've been shocking.”

Fox rolls his shoulders back in newfound determination, turning to Eisen. “What do you want us to do?”

In the detective's hand is a datapad that seems to manifest out of nowhere. What the heck.

“We've found a set of fingerprints on the body… on the not bloody patch of skin, thankfully… and we're trying to match it with our database. Since we've determined our persons of interest are Nic Erlonna and Commander Wolffe as of now, we need to figure out if this is self-inflicted or premeditated murder.”

Eisen fixes a look at him that seems somehow hesitant, almost feeling bad, perhaps at the mention of person of interest followed by Wolffe's name. Perhaps the other man knows how close he is to Wolffe, due to Lesiil's unique connections with them all. Fox challengingly accepts the staring contest, the expression conveyed enough by the blank visor of his crimson helmet.

”And we were thinking… since you and Lesiil are close to him, we'd like you to approach them as soon as possible to gain information for the sake of this case,” the lead investigator settles, “We’ve reached Nic's PA and we'll make sure you'll be hearing something in the morning. Starting now, you have 24 hours.”

“How's mock trial goin’?”

Entering the lobby of the most lavish apartment building in the heart of Coruscant, not only Lesiil was still adorned in formal attire that one would wear in the courtroom, but with the sweetheart smile Fox always adores with every single beat of his heart, too. Yet as soon as he made that comment with the smuggest grin, her shoulders visibly slump.

“Please don't tease me like that, cyare,” she huffs, plopping down next to him on the plush lobby couch. “I have studied all night for the session to be postponed until Zhellday. And I missed Shon Vatore's crime scene last night for absolutely nothing. Can you believe that?”

Yeah, but his heart is melting to the way the Mando'a word for beloved rolls off her tongue flawlessly. He's still lost in how the early morning sun that pierces through the window casts a certain godlike glow onto her being. He doesn't even know what the word godlike is supposed to depict, but he's certain his beloved (even being grumpy) is an accurate depiction.

Lesiil pokes his armored thigh.

“I can,” Fox answers finally, his arm that's been splaying over the back of the couch sliding downwards to drape over her shoulders. “But you got enough sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“And you sure this is okay with your school?”

Uncomfortable with the motion, Lesiil shrugs off his arm and scoots a further back. “It will not hinder me.” She hooks her forefinger with his instead. “Chief sent me a permit letter and I've sent it to administration. We should be doing fine, I have it handled. The concern is unnecessary.”

Fox snorts. “Just asking, Les’ika.” Stars, sometimes he just wants to kiss her into the nearby wall so she'd just kriffing shut up. The last two sentences were unnecessary. “I can't even start small talks with you when all you're doing is slamming my commander’s concerned ass back down?”

Lesiil smiles apologetically. “Forgive me then, Marshal,” she says genuinely without the slightest bite of sarcasm. Then she slightly turns and reaches down, holding up an overnight pac– wait, that's his. “I brought you this.”

As soon as he grabs and unzips the reserve regulation pack he stows at hers, he peers inside and finds his crimson red dress shirt and grey trousers. “Civvies? These are yours?”

“Yours, you silly,” Lesiil laughs quietly, knowing full well he's cracking a joke. “I imagine we'll be doing a lot of talking and sitting down on a plush couch that's fluffier and way pricier than mine that it's going to make you uncomfortable, and I don't want to have your armor digging into the spot where the twin suns of Tatooine don't shine.”

Fox chokes on air and coughs violently into his elbow.

“Commander Fox and Detective Thrace?”

He hurriedly zips his pack close and gathers his discarded helmet. “Ah, that will be us.” His cyare gets to her feet first, patting her formal outerwear down and stepping forward to greet the actress’ personal assistant because kriffing finally. “But for my part, it's Former Detective.”

The red Mikkian lady in business attire reciprocates the gesture with equal professional demeanor, and shakes Lesiil’s hand. “Of course, apologies for that bit.” She shakes Fox's afterward. “Pleased to meet you. And call me Veeli. If you would follow me, please.”

They're led further into the building. Inside, the smell of luxury fragrance grows stronger, something that Fox would always encounter when entering one of the offices that belong to fat-pocketed senators. That, and the light elevator music that's slightly goofy for Fox's taste.

“On behalf of CSF, I would like to apologize for intruding on the muse’s schedule this morning,” Lesiil says in the middle of the silence.

“That's okay,” Veeli replies curtly, her narrow tendrils floating and flicking every once in a while. “She's empty at the moment.”

Fox, stashing himself in the back of the elevator out of habit, has his eyes intent on the ever adding floor indicator. “Is Wolffe up there?”

“He is,” the assistant replies without looking back at him, “He stayed the night to look after her.”

“That's very kind,” Lesiil comments, and the brief conversation ends there when they reach the designated floor. Not penthouse yet, Fox notices. He adjusts his grip on his pack, the weight awkward due to the folded clothes where the vast space provided is supposedly to fit his entire kit and backup body gloves. So where are we going?

His internal question is answered as soon as they're led out, met the two bulky natborn bodyguards that man an entrance that leads to yet another corridor. A private one, based on how it feels homey and seems decorated with personal touches. Holoposters of various films hang on beige-painted walls. Soon he realizes they're all the ones Nic Erlonna have been in. A filmography of sorts, a showcase of glory throughout her career, as if reminding the guests that are entering her home.

Then, another elevator ride. There's only three buttons on the panel. Veeli presses the second one, and the doors shut. No music this time since the ride is short, and once they arrive, Fox is already lost in awe at how massive the open floor plan is. Huge floor-to-ceiling window for a first wall, untinted to let the morning sun in. Zero dust. Squeaky clean marble flooring and expensive-looking rugs.

Kriff. Three floors of dwelling. In this huge ass building. Wolffe you spoiled son of a droid.

Veeli ushers them in and has them settled on the main seating area. “Please wait here for a moment. We'll be right back with you in a few.”

It had been quite a few.

Fox groans as soon as he sees Wolffe bounding down the stairs. “There you kriffing are.”

Wolffe, clad in a set of crisp dark silver shirt and trousers that makes him look ready to grab a random guy off a street to force his health insurance company on and would definitely beat them to a pulp if they refuse, scowls. “We just woke up.”

Fox stands and goes to meet the commander in the middle, saying, “Told you we could hear you.” With a shit-eating grin and typical reunion enthusiasm, they share a little tap to the forehead. “Su’cuy, Wolffe. I'm traumatized as kark now thanks to you.” Fox clasps him on the shoulder before letting go. 

Wolffe snorts, mismatched eyes taking a swift once-over at Fox, who's now dressed the same way as him for the sake of comfort, the crimson marshal commander armor stuffed into his pack. “As if you don't do it with your girl.”

“Do what?”

They turn to see Lesiil just pocketing her commlink as she makes her way from around the corner.

Fox scoffs. “Don't play dumb, Les’ika. You heard them going at it too.”

“I prefer playing dumb, actually,” she smiles innocently, studying the presence of the other man and quite visibly brightens up. “Commander Wolffe!” She shakes his offered hand, and Fox can see her almost vibrating with joy. How she's keeping her voice calm, it's a wonder. Royal etiquettes put into work, most likely. “Good to meet you again. I hope I'm not boring to your eyes yet.”

“Never, Thrace. You're a family friend to the 104th.”

“Then call me Lesiil, Commander.”

“Then it's Wolffe,” the man reciprocates with a kinder and welcome tone, his professionalism returning back just a smidge, “And I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Fox lets out a single dry, humorless laugh. “You apologized to her and not me? What am I, gundark meat?”

“Wolffe?!” a female voice yells from upstairs.

The commander scowls, rolling his eyes, before turning around to the direction of the staircase. “Down here!”

A moment later, a head peeks out at the turn of the stairs, platinum blond hair let loose but not messy. Nic Erlonna the actress. Fox studies her eyes briefly scanning over them three. “Um, what's going on?”

“Urgencies we can't ignore this morning,” Wolffe replies curtly, almost dutifully.

A loud sigh. Nico's head disappears from sight. “Okay, but I don't remember having an appointment this early. I didn't put any makeup on!” she yells again, then her full figure comes into view and descends the staircase at last. “Why wasn't I told about this?”

Clad in a simple t-shirt and what seems to be a cotton jogging trousers, the great actress that won so much award in her entire career looks just like a regular civilian (or in Fox's opinion; more like one of those natborn students that oversleeps after working on a project late into the night). Much to her dismay, apparently.

“Just…” Wolffe sighs. “You're fine.” He turns to both Fox and Lesiil. “The assistant let you in?”

The latter nods. “Yes, she did.”

“I swear, Veeli is now running things on her own. I'm scared for my life.” Nico sidles next to Wolffe and does a double take. “Oh. Commander Fox?” She enthusiastically thrusts out a hand in greeting, which he shakes. “Looking dapper with all that getup, Commander. Almost didn't recognize you.”

Fox merely nods, his hand returning to his side. “Ma'am.”

“How are the boys in your HQ?”

“Good, Ma'am.”

“Sorry I look indecent,” she complains mostly to herself once again, gesturing grandly to herself.

Wolffe sneers, “You're dressed and that's enough. Makeup isn't necessary for now.” The commander then beckons for the other woman who's been watching the interaction with a polite smile and a glint of amusement in storm grey eyes. “This is Detective Lesiil Thrace.”

Lesiil clears her throat. “Former Detective.”

“Yeah, that.” He rolls his eyes, though smiling a little, fondly. “This is Nic Erlonna.”

The blonde’s eyebrows raise sky-high in recognition and awe. “Oh, riiight!” Another introduction handshake, one piece of courtesy that Lesiil enjoys so much. “The famed Lesiil Thrace with all those notorious cases? An honor to meet you in person!” Fox bathes himself in pride for his cyare. Nico's grin fades, as if in realization. “But uh, just to be clear; what are you doing here?”

Lesiil lets out a quiet breath. “If I could put this gently without all these pressing deadlines, I would,” she says, “But this is about last night's incident, Miss Erlonna.”

Nico blinks in realization. “Right,” she mutters almost sadly, brightening up and putting on what Fox observes as a forced, pained smile, as if wishing she could stall this nightmare a little longer. “We can talk about it over breakfast?” she offers, gesturing to the side with an arm, to the direction of the dining room.

“Thank you. That's very kind,” Lesiil says with a polite smile, and the four of them collectively make their way. Fox knows he should just follow Lesiil's cues. She's the one who knows how to be a proper guest in someone else's dwelling – after all, he never does. Calling and leading a breach squad to take in an enemy of the state, that's what he does. That's all he knows.

“The least I could do,” Nico easily replies, and they find seating in the grand eight-person dining table. “But I still can't exactly understand why you're here, Detective.” Her tone is curious, not meaning to jab, Fox observes. “You announced your early retirement from police work, right?”

Fox has just finished seating Lesiil – something he'd learned after a couple of dinner dates, before taking one to her right himself. “That's correct,” his cyare answers.

“So?” Nico prompts again, who's already seated in front of Lesiil.

“I am acting as a consulting detective at the moment,” the former detective enunciates, “Meaning I, representing the CSF Criminal Investigations Department, am here to gather information for my own independent investigation so I can forward it to the police for further processing and guide them to solve the case as fast as possible.”

Nico stares long into Lesiil for a moment, taking every word cautiously, the playful glint earlier in olive green eyes had already dissipated. Nodding, as if thinking to herself. It's quiet for a moment. Wolffe and Fox trade a look, but the other man merely shrugs.

Stars. Even outside the cold confines of either assembly room or war room, they carry their habits to stay quiet when the ones with power are talking. And honestly, it's comforting still, somewhat. Like they can just be themselves still, outside the very institution they were born for.

“Didn't know you have that kinda stuff,” Nico says finally, breaking her mulling just as breakfast is served, the server droid making no audible noise loud enough to break the silence.

Me too, Fox thinks, until last night, apparently.

“It is a piece of information rarely made public and kept close among our peers only,” Lesiil says, picking up her utensils when Nico, as the host, does. Fox follows her movement meticulously. Something he's never done, again, but he's adapting. “And yours is a special, high-profile case, Miss Erlonna. High-profile cases such as this need to be handled delicately, and swiftly, because the pressing demands by the Motion Pictures Academy simply cannot be taken lightly. It would damage their public image, and yours.”

Neither of the four had already dug into their food. It's hearty and tasty, and looks very diet-balanced. The weight of the topic is dawning on them, but seemingly not as much for Nico. She's wolfing down her plate as if the conversation was never about what it is, after all. Like judging the choice of weather today or something.

“So on behalf of the institution and Coruscant Security Force, I hope you will be willing to fully cooperate with us.”

Another moment of silence, but briefer. He had breakfast already at the mess… but I suppose a second helping won't hurt. He looks at Wolffe, who's digging in at last. Yeah, just today. Kriff diet. This is home food.

“Okay,” Nico acknowledges at last, “But… won't that involve you guys reading me the rights to remain silent and call a lawyer or something?”

Lesiil shakes her head. “No. My early retirement no longer leaves me the power to read you your rights, and neither is Commander Fox.”

Yeah, as if he had it. As if he could. He and his unit is the brute force that gets thrown the harshest part of an op, after all. Not the legal part and stuff.

Lesiil continues, “However, with me being here, you are entitled to speak freely. Admit your side of the story very clearly and leave nothing out.” One hand comes from under the table, and it carries out a recording device, setting it on top for everybody to see. “It will be recorded and used in court, with me taking to the witness stand to defend your side of the story as well.”

“Wouldn't that be too excessive?” Wolffe breaks the full-minute tension, arms crossing across his chest, “You have recording already, why would you need to take the stand?”

Fox hesitantly turns. Lesiil trades an unreadable look with him, but he notes of her insistence – her Lorrdian blood better be kept a secret. “Let's just say I am a master at reading nonverbal communications,” Lesiil finally says, offering a smile of reassurance, “I will know whether you tell the truth or not.”

“If you don't,” Fox adds quickly with a firmer tone, eyes studying Nico's attentive demeanor, “Lesiil is allowed to refuse to testify for you.”

“And help the prosecutor build the case instead. Not for your team of lawyers,” Lesiil clarifies, and both of them collectively take the look of concern traded between the other couple. Lesiil lets out a small, quiet sigh, and reassuringly adds, “If this would be taken to the courtroom.”

Wolffe catches on. “So there's no charges against her?”

“Not yet,” Fox shakes his head.

“The victim's family hasn't filed any charges yet,” Lesiil elaborates further, “My CSF contact who is the lead investigator of this case informed me that the victim's family wishes to know the truth first beforehand, and is helping in the investigation as well.”

“Meaning if this takes a darker turn, there's gonna be charges,” adds Fox, having been briefed further by Eisen this morning via comms.

“Their lawyers were present,” Lesiil says again, spilling everything by this point. Nico perks up and is intensely listening again. “The family has spoken to us as such, and will be regarded as such unless something's changed.”

Wolffe lets out a huge sigh, turning to Nico. “His family a whole bunch of assholes too?”

Her eyebrows furrow, almost in doubt. That, or offended. “No, on the contrary. They like me, actually,” she mutters mindfully, “It’s just their son is– was that screwed up…”

After yet another brief look traded to each other they continue their breakfast in silence. Lesiil only eats about half, Fox notices. If they weren't in someone else's house he would've wolfed it down. Food can't go to waste, and this is good and homey.

Lesiil folds her hands on top of the table. “You can start your story whenever you're ready, Miss Erlonna.”

“I…” Nico huffs, nervousness bleeding off her person, “I can begin at the after-party. Is that okay?”

“As long as it remains factual.”

“Don't say anything!” shouts a new voice from the doorway. Veeli the assistant returns, with the usual datapad clutched closely and a new company to their group. The masculine voice earlier belonged to this yellow-skinned Zabrak with tattoos, brown hair slicked back and sharply dressed. They stop at the other end of the table, closest to Nico, and the new guy points a finger at her. “Say you want a lawyer, Nico.”

The actress sighs loudly. “Titus, relax.”

As they plunge into an argument, Fox eyes Wolffe and mouths who the heck is that? clear enough for the other man to answer manager.

“If I may speak,” Lesiil breaks out resolutely, her voice slightly raised among the chatter and almost sternly glowers onto the three. “These are neutral grounds. We are no police.”

The manager, Titus, glares back, his fists clench – Fox flattens his boots against the floor at the ready. “But you represent them, Detective.”

“For my own personal investigation that would help the police solve this case,” Lesiil calmly affirms, then more with a firmer cadence, “Miss Erlonna is pinned down by the media as we speak, and I reckon neither the muse or CSF want their name tainted by being accused of felony crime and unprofessionalism by the public, respectively. I serve as the means to accelerate this case to its final resolution within 24 hours since the incident.”

“And don't start about the Academy,” Nico butts in, voice lowered with apprehension, almost with fear. “My rep's in danger, Titus.”

The manager scrubs both hands down his face. “At least get a lawyer to defend your liability, Nic.”

“No. I wanna speak freely.” The muse turns to the assistant. Wow. The audacity of this lady disregarding any kind of law protection. “Vee, any news about Shon and me?”

“The incident is making rounds in morning holonews channels as we speak,” the Mikkian says, tapping and thumbing away at her datapad, “Viral social media tags. Mentions. Comments. Reactions, hates. It’ll be too much by lunch time.”

Nico gives a bitter smile. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Another moment of sympathizing silence. Fox feels like cartwheeling because what the kark was all that. The manager seems kinda stupid… but he appreciates his insistence as it's supposed to be done.

Lesiil forks a little more of the nerf sausage (It makes Fox proud by watching. No food waste it seems.), before she prompts as politely as possible, “Can we continue?”

Nico turns to the other two, sighing tiredly, and waves a hand. “Just… sit down. I was just getting started before you panicked nunas came in.”

Both newcomers stare with each other before relenting. “Yeah, sorry,” Veeli shrugs, looking down to her datapad instead. Titus takes a seat at the other end of the table, Veeli next to Nico. “What did you talk about?” she asks.

“I was only getting into it,” Nico rolls her eyes. Leaning back to her seat, her plate already clean, she begins with a sigh, “After that Bye Bye Bye by B’SYNC karaoke I headed outside for some fresh air. Some social me-time, as always. It was getting suffocating and I went up to the rooftop.”

“Is the rooftop supposed to be public?” Lesiil straight up asks, easily stepping back into the investigative air waiting for her return.

“It’s preserved for celebs like us to take a breather.”

“But not everyone knows about it,” Titus butts in, his voice uncharacteristically low and solemn after all that loud intervention, “That's why the security was minimal.”

Nico turns to him. “There were no security personnel or whatever, Titus.”

Fox sharply turns to Wolffe, questioningly, the other man nods just subtly in confirmation. Whose stupid idea was that?

The Zabrak’s eyes widen in surprise. “Kriff, really?” One hand flies to his hair, his dark brows crease into a frown. “But there were cameras.”

“My CSF contact who leads this investigation is looking into it as we speak,” Lesiil reassures, turning to Nico again. “Please continue, Miss Erlonna.”

“I was up there. Just thinking,” the muse picks up, “Then Shon came up to me.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh y'know, just the same old. Wanted to get back together, and I refused.” She quietly shakes her head. The entire table is enveloped with a wistful blanket at that moment, knowing what's next. “I just… didn't realize he would take such extreme measures.”

It's not after a full minute where everyone either drinks their water or finishes up their plates or just mulling that Fox begins to feel the silence stretches too long. It feels familiar again; that first orientation command-wide meeting where Lesiil introduced herself and began to present her findings – where she brought up about death. She gave them a moment of silence; to gather, to mourn again in a short pocket of time, before picking it up again. But he now knows behind such thoughtfulness, the gears inside her brain remain whirring and ticking; sprouting out plausible theories, connecting the dots.

It's exactly what he deems as his mirror; her mind is tirelessly working. Running on the clock, racing against time, never resting even in the midst of mind-cracking puzzles. Always finding a way out. Though in regards to strategy, his is far more excellent. He maps through and creates strategies in minutes, while she perhaps could supply every single possible risk to take into consideration. Together – a plan hatched into perfection.

Shame the Coruscant Guard isn't allowed to recruit natborns. Even if it is, he'd think twice before instantly picking Lesiil to take up office in HQ.

And her mind continues working. Always. Even after retiring, it remains complex. Trained, stimulated. Going back to the current situation, as the moment fits, she picks up again, “What exactly did you two talk about before it happened?”

Nico gulps the last of her water before answering, “It's just that I refused. He wanted to be friends. After what he did to me, I just… I couldn't. I don't want to. He was toxic throughout our relationship.” She lets out a wistful sigh, probably also wishing the water was wine. “I'd be an idiot.”

Lesiil prompts her to continue on her own.

“I was just about to leave,” Nico resumes, arms winding around herself to provide some comfort. Wolffe not so quietly drags his chair closer in protectiveness, their shoulders brushing. Nico leans into him. Fox softens at the sight. “Turned my back around and he called me, I turned and saw him already standing on that ledge. Tried to talk it out, even lied that I still loved him because if I'd taken him back he wouldn't do that.” Her voice breaks in reliving the incident. “But well, he did. I tried to grab him too, but he let go of my grip and–” she throws her hands up “–down he went.”

“Mersace fined us for the damage of your dress,” says Veeli a moment later.

“That could be evidence,” Fox says quickly, glancing next to him.

Lesiil meets his gaze, nodding. “I will inform my contact about it.” Her attention sweeps around the table. “We'll handle it. Now to the current problem; how would we know whether you're telling the truth at all, Miss Erlonna?”

Fox's breath hitches. Veeli gasps.

“Oh kark’s sake,” Titus facepalms.

Nico's eyebrows furrow, lips slightly parted conveying her shock, and perhaps offended.

“Are you kidding?!” Wolffe blurts out, his expression hardens directly at Lesiil, almost growling, “I thought you were on our side, Thrace.”

“I will, if there is sufficient documentary evidence. It should be security footage, but we're still looking through it. Even if we get a hold of it when it does show that you tried to save him and not purposefully letting him go,” Lesiil meets his hard tone fairly, but reined with an ample amount of respect, still. She shakes her head. “It won't be enough, because we also need to hear that it happened as you said.”

“Les.”

He'd better step in. The last thing he needs is his cyare embarrassing herself. Exhaling, Lesiil softens when she meets his warning glare.

“Don’t overstep,” he says, drawing the sternest tone he'd usually pull when she worked under him. He gently cocks his head in Nico's direction. “See for yourself. You can tell if she tells the truth.”

“I am aware Miss Erlonna does tell the truth. She's innocent,” she asserts – there’s something about it that makes Fox think this is one of the moments she won't back down. “But the jury won't, if this case gets taken to court and we still lack evidence by then. We're running out of time, that's why we need stronger documentary evidence to build this case where she's innocent.”

“This is not legal consultation!” he scolds, voice slightly raised, “So stop playing prosecutor for now and just lend your ear. Be a friend. An ally. That's why you're here.”

Silence ensues as Lesiil blinks at his outburst, glancing away to escape his scrutiny. No, not escape. More like; utilizing the pause in their bicker so that he could think that perhaps he's been the one embarrassing her at that moment.

Kark. He's not her boss anymore. Why is it easy to forget?

Wolffe lifts an eyebrow at him. Fox what the hell?

I just… He sighs, breaking the other clone’s scrutiny. Sorry.

“Let's just say we're in a focus group discussion for now,” Veeli calmly says, being the first one to speak.

Lesiil puts on a meek, guilty smile. “Apologies. For my insistence and on behalf of the Marshal Commander. I have an ongoing study in law school. I suppose I was carried away.”

One of many things Fox admires about her; where he ducks his way out of tough situations by just carefully making himself invisible, she confronts it with a flawless smile, admits her wrong, and clears presumed mistakes to start over. 

Nico is propping her jaw in her palm, low, with elbow on the table. “Yeah?” she drawls, yet not without interest. It's the tone someone uses when they're actually impressed towards something mundane. “That's cool, though.”

“You're laying out the entire game in case anything goes wrong by identifying possible legal loopholes firsthand,” Wolffe joins in, the air around him opposite of Nico. For less than a second his mismatched eyes glares at Fox before returning back to Lesiil with a look of pride. “You're good.”

Lesiil nods in thanks. “It's what a good lawyer would do.”

Kriff he's a shit boyfriend isn't he.

“I wanna recruit her when she graduates,” Nico declares with a sudden burst of energy. She turns to Veeli. “Can I? Do that?”

Fox holds back a sigh. “Let's focus on what we have on our plates first, Ma'am.”

“Yeah,” Titus bitterly agrees. As soon as he turns to Lesiil, he unwinds his folded arms. “But, uh, can you tell us just what's happening currently in your investigation?”

“Right now, generally, everything points to Miss Erlonna,” states the former detective, “You have a connection to the victim. The toxic former relationship and his constant harassment might be a possible motive for you to take him out of the picture, driving your actions – supposed you're guilty of manslaughter – questionable, because there was an option to issue a restraining order against Mr Vatore's harassment. It makes you look guilty for bypassing a lawful protection as such.”

“I just… didn't want to,” Nico mutters, the weight finally sitting on her stomach. She scrubs both hands down her face. “It'd make him look bad. Stupid, I know.”

Fox refrains from saying anything to that. He looks at Wolffe. Subtly, the 104th commander shrugs, his eyes rolling as if yeah she's an idiot I know.

“On another note,” Lesiil continues, not intending to let the progressive answer to Titus's question stalled, “We did find your fingerprints on the victim, Miss Erlonna. This strengthens your presence at the scene of the crime.”

“Around the wrist, right?” Nico enthusiastically clasps her own wrist, fumbling experimentally, mimicking her own grasp that attempted to save the dead guy. “That's where I tried to hold onto him.”

“Yes.” Lesiil’s forefinger curls on her chin in thought. “But such a fact is a double-edged blade, still.”

Wolffe huffs, his look impatient yet knows better than to rush the hassle. “Is there anything we can do at all?”

“Not yet,” Fox answers, the most recent briefing this morning still etched into his mind – every single progress mentioned. “But we're running out of time all the same.”

“He was just this… sick person.” All heads turn to Titus. The manager seems to be always overlooked, but if anyone knows what seems to be lurking in the entertainment industry – rumors and sick threats and conspiracy theories – it's him. His arms are crossed again over his chest, seemingly just resurfaced from his own deep lake of thoughts. As he's supposed to be; to salvage Nico's public image that perhaps has already been broken, bit by bit. He shrugs. “I personally think he was sick or something. Mentally ill.”

“Possibly,” Wolffe contributes without missing a beat, “Obsessive love to the point of this is a thing.”

“You think he'd write a diary or something?” Veeli chimes in, and insightfully adds, “He was into traditional stage plays. He was a poetic kinda guy.”

Fox fishes his comlink out. 

“I do think he would,” Lesiil says thoughtfully. Fox glances up, briefly witnessing the storm grey in her eyes brewing maps and connecting the dots, darting here and there as if mapping an imaginary plan, her mind fully at work.

Stars it feels like we're inside her mind. He can't even exaggerate how refreshing it feels. It's nostalgic. It always brings him back to that meeting room where she was first introduced.

“Inspecting the victim's mobile devices. Searching his residence. Residences, if there is more than one.” At last, she sighs, and Fox can hear the weight bleed off her shoulders. “This would take a while.” Then, gently, she says to him, “Tell Eisen about this?”

He doesn't look up, already pulling up the lead investigator’s comm channel. “Way ahead of you, DT.”

“So with her case,” Wolffe points to the woman next to him, “From her side of the story – it's a dead end?”

Lesiil nods. “Unfortunately. As I said, nothing about it can save herself for now.”

That earns hesitant looks traded among the four. With that said, it's as good as trust the process and wait it out.

“Trust me, I too wish my testimony, based on my analysis on nonverbal cues, could suffice in court to clear you out of suspicion and eventually rules the victim's death as suicide.”

“A great day, wasn't it, Beedee?”

[STATEMENT] I miss field work. Thanks for bringing me along, Lesiil!

She smiles fondly, offering a fist bump to the little droid perching on her back. “Of course.” Fishing out the key card to her apartment, Lesiil and BD-6 trades one last glance before entering the premises. “What would I do without you, after all, Beedee?”

The rest of the happy boops is a music to her ears. Homely soft amber warmth greets Lesiil once she steps in, immediately busying to take off her boots and stash it in the wee storeroom. Fox is here. His own white boots is where they usually are when he's home, as are parts of his armor. But… why only parts? Is he not cleaning himself up yet?

Beedee had scurried off earlier all by himself, the familiar weight on her shoulders already gone. She steps out of the little room, the door sliding close. She checks the front door lock mechanisms, locking it for the night. Fox is always home now during Centaxday nights. As she's about to turn and grab a look at the chronometer in the furthest wall of the living area, a pair of strong arms, still covered with familiar GAR body glove, wrap around her waist from behind.

“I'm sorry I was an ass.”

Lesiil melts into the embrace. No ‘welcome home’? she's about to joke, but the way Fox pulls her impossibly closer to his chest as if trying to absorb her under his skin. His dark locks tickling her ear and jaw as he presses his face close into her neck, nuzzling against the collar of her work attire. She always feels safe in his arms, but the way he tightens them around her denotes what she identifies as desperation.

Then it clicks.

She almost forgets about it because of the enthusiasm of going back to field investigative work (even though only involving reviewing available evidence and connecting them, writing up a request for warrant, and traveling to the other side of Coruscant to search for more evidence). It took a whole day, now the chronometer perhaps showing 2200.

She releases a slow breath, placing her hands stop his, that are clinging onto the flap of her jacket. Definitely not letting go anytime soon.

“Is this about when you scolded me this morning, my love?”

Fox hums. “That was uncalled for.” His voice is meek, muffled by her clothes as he nuzzles further into them. “You looked like you were going to stab me or something at the moment. Or cry.”

Lesiil can't help the amused smile threatened to latch onto her lips. “That was a poor observation, cyare,” she chuckles quietly. Slowly peeling his arms a little so she can turn around and meet his eyes – amber brown pools carefully studying every strand that makes up the tapestry of her soul. Eye bags, soft stress lines, a little frown thats’s always present when he's in doubt. He's the worst when it comes to hide his facial expressions, making it all clear for her to read. He doesn't mind. All for her to see. All that is hers to see, to admire, and to love.

“Fox.” She tucks away the locks that fall over his forehead, silver threads of hair among them. It always falls back, sweeping across his skin and kissing his eyelids – a futile attempt that she'd do over and over sgain. “I was never angry to begin with.”

His frown deepens. “I don't believe you.”

Lesiil can't help the chuckle tumbling off her lips. In a disguise to caress his cheeks, her smile grows in satisfaction when she feels the skin under her tender touch warms. “You silly man.”

“That's right.” He lets his head falls into her shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of her neck again. Her heart melts. Always does, when he's particularly clingy. “I'm still yours, right?”

“Please, as if I'm leaving you to your sad and lonely marshal commander duties.”

He sniffs. “That's cruel.”

One of her hands card through his hair in a loving pace, another arm splaying over his built shoulders. “You did nothing wrong,” Lesiil explains, “I admit I was carried away but you ground me, Fox. And I appreciate that, wholeheartedly.”

He hums. “You sure?”

“I am very sure, cyare.”

“But I raised my voice at you.”

“I’m not made of cheap glass, Marshal,” she says a little firmly, delivering a long kiss into his hair. A little greasy from daylong sweat under that helmet, but they're sharing the same predicament – just home after work. “Sometimes all I need is a firmer presence that grounds me. And that's you, Fox.”

Lesiil pulls always slightly. She wants to look at him in the eyes. Nothing more. It gives her joy to see if one thing amuses him, or if another displeases him. Gently, still wrapped inside the safe confines of Fox's arms, she cradles the sides of his scarred face. The long mark across his nose, the faded gash on his left jaw, and the little healed cuts on his eyebrow and the corner of his lips that she enjoys all for herself.

“Please don't sulk. Yes? This sight of you breaks my heart a little.” A soft peck to the scar on the corner of his lip. “I don't want you to be sad because of a small misunderstanding.”

The response is a sweet kiss to the lips. Then two, a little deeper than before. Then three, that makes her smile against his lips. Fox leans his forehead against hers, his gloveless fingers stroking her cheek lovingly. “Shower with me?”

She hums a no. “I’m afraid I still have a little work to do. Eisen is sending me the official report tonight and expecting me to deliver the news.”

“It all went well?” he asks, a little too energized. A smirk slide into his lips and adorns his already handsome, sharp-featured face. “You miss all that?”

“I admit I do. To go back and investigate on site, the entire process of it. Warrant, search, found, bag. Solving the puzzle, connecting the dots. It all felt good.” Smiling, Lesiil presses a long kiss to his lips, delivering her entire heart into the notion, receiving a honey-sweet smile in return. “Thank you for asking, ner al’verde.”

Her commlink beeps. Knowing it's probably what they've been waiting for, her cyare lets go immediately and leans closer to inspect the message together.

“Oh,” Lesiil grins, “Good news to be delivered.”

“It was the search warrants that took so much time, but we worked as fast as we could. We found the victim's mobile devices, various holonotes and holojournals. Every single means where he could possibly write his journal, we skimmed through every single one.”

Under the umbrella of nervousness and anticipation, Nico's hands are fiddling with the hem of her camisole. “That was fast.”

The holo figure of the former detective shifts, and then suddenly there's a little biped droid clinging onto her arm like some bird. She smiles at it in acknowledgment before returning to the holo. “My droid BD-6 processes mobile devices faster. We tend to get results on the spot.” The droid boops its confirmation. “And we did. We found various entries in his journals that spoke of his intention to end his life had you not reciprocated his feelings.”

Wolffe, who's reclined next to her on the bed and out of frame, hums his satisfaction at the revelation. Nico sighs heavily, heavy burden finally cracks and crumbles and vanishes off her chest.

“So…” she begins hesitantly, “So I'm cleared out of suspicion, right?”

All she wants is to jump and scream into the air and perhaps party while blowing off some fireworks as soon as she sees the detective nodding her head.

“Yes, and there weren't any charges to begin with. Just deadlines and media scrutiny, I suppose, Miss Erlonna,” Thrace smiles reassuringly, “Moreover, one of the family members came forward and told us of the victim's intentions. But they were threatened so they kept it a secret. It's crystal clear now that you are not at fault, at all. This is something the victim had brought upon himself.”

Nico lets out another breath of relief, her limbs still trembling from the extremity of it. From the toxic behavior to begin with. Way back to their relationship. Not my fault.

“Though I believe you will run quite a session with your lawyer team. Speaking as a law student myself, they would absolutely have a word with you about not issuing that restraining order in the first place.”

“That wouldn't be able to stop Shon.” She would usually return the slipped joke easily, but first things first. “It wouldn't make much difference. I know him. He was passionate. Guess when it comes to me it turned into a sick obsession that made me wanna barf every damn time.”

“Who knew it would've gone better,” the former detective remarks, “But as of now, you have nothing more to worry about, Miss Erlonna. As I said, the victim's family filed no charges in the first place, they have accepted the truth, and this case is finally closed.”

Gods she feels like crying. Her reputation – saved!

“I can't tell you just how relieved I am, Detective.”

Thrace nods deeply. “I am sure. I feel the same for you, Miss Erlonna. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Both Nico's hands fly to her chest, “No, Detective. Thank you.” A wide smile breaks in her face. “Alright! A celebratory dinner is in order! I'll go run and tell Veeli.”

Wolffe shakes his head – fondly, if that isn't obvious yet, with an extra roll of his eyes. Childlike woman. With no initial intention to step into the holocall, he'd kept himself from peeking in, yet listening off-frame. Yet when the holo shifts again from the corner of his eyes, he decides to abandon his report work the boys sent him and hops off the bed.

“Where's Wolffe?” Fox asks aloud, to which Lesiil shrugs and shakes her head. The shabuir is plainly standing there next to his smart as hell girlfriend, in a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms looking ready to sleep the night off, and a towel hanging off one shoulder, fresh from shower.

Wolffe smugly steps into the frame, crossing his arms. “What, karkhead?”

Fox mimics his gesture. “Nothing.” His scarred eyebrow, scaringly on the same side of the face as Wolffe's, rises. “You have it down bad for Nic Erlonna, huh?”

“Hm?”

“I wish I could just strangle you right now.”

“The hell are you talking about, Fox?”

The door to the bedroom slides open.

“We know how you two been playing it fak–”

“Commander Fox?”

Wolffe snaps his head up, watching how one hundred facial expressions passing across Nico's fair face spanning from shock and back again to shock as she draws nearer, and eventually gets into the holocall next to him.

“What–” she gestures between the two holo figures, “You two are together?!”

Lesiil, seemingly taking the initially serious call now has turned into a playful one, shrugs, an amused smirk gracing her lips. “Why, I thought that was obvious.”

Wolffe sighs loudly on purpose. “Don’t mind her.” He resists the urge to grab for one butt cheek. “She's a slow one.”

“Am not! I didn't know!” Nico fights back.

“You could've known.”

“Stop embarrassing me!”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“–no, cyare, they show genuine reactions towards each other now. You know, mutual comfort.”

He turns slowly to the holo.

“What?” Nico asks aloud.

Lesiil grins innocently – the sight is familiar with Wolffe. They've hung out together once or twice with the other command boys, after all. “I stated you both have a recently intriguing chemistry,” she declares.

Wolffe releases a breath, looking up to the ceiling. Dank farrik. They've caught on, have they.

“W-what do you mean?”

Force, this woman.

Fox snorts openly, abandoning his formal commander demeanor. “What, you think a master of reading nonverbal communications wouldn't pick up how you two have been faking it for months? Come on.”

“What?!” Nico exclaims, “But we sold!”

“To everyone,” Lesiil says, “But not to me and those who are like me.”

Nico huffs. “Who are you anyway?” Wolffe elbows her warningly. “...If I may ask?”

“That is a secret I will have to carry to the grave. A magician never reveals their secrets, after all.”

Does Wolffe know? No. He doesn't know. It probably won't make any difference if it's spilled anyway, and it's private. Fox seems to know. Very well.

“Yeah, but anyway, what the hell you two,” his vod says, “I bought it, until one of my men showed her and she straight up said ‘no it's fake’. At first glance!”

“You're exaggerating, cyare.”

“That's what you did, Lesii.” Fox turns to him and points an accusing finger in the holo. “Wolffe you son of a droid. You owe me an explanation, or I'm gonna tell Cody. You know how runny his karking mouth is. In exactly 10 minutes, the entire Republic army would know how fake you two were.”

A quiet laugh rumbles off his chest. Seems like we're made. With Lesiil being there as she claims, no way we're getting out of this.

“Ahahaha, oh gods,” Nico laughs awkwardly, sharing his mind, “That was such a long story.”

“Way, way back,” Wolffe agrees.

“Lay it all out,” Fox grins, glancing at Lesiil, who has the same amount of mirth and curiosity sparking in her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @ladylucksrogue @msmeredithrose @filamentlights @heidnspeak

A/N: I can't say thanks enough for you enjoying their journey so far! It ends here for now. Who knows there'll be next? 🫵🏼🫶🏼💓

[elrielbliss]

attacking sjm in the comments section is insane, no one besides delusional readers told people to read all 15 of her books before reading HOFAS. plus if the crossover didn’t go the way you expected, it’s okay. she’s still contracted for 7 more books and i’m sure there’s always a possibility for a crossover in the future 🤷‍♀️

[turnaboutstar]

THE TRIPS TO EUROPE TO SEE EDGEWORTH ARE ACTUALLY CANON????? I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A RANDOM THING PEOPLE HEADCANONED

[awetfrog]

wow they solved it

[dalishious]

The Sanitized Lore of Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Tevinter is the heart of slavery in Thedas. This lore has been established in every game, novel, comic, and other extended material in the Dragon Age franchise to date that so much as mentions the nation. But in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, when we are finally able to actually visit this location for the first time… this rampant slavery we’ve heard so much about is nowhere to be found. It’s talked about here and there; Neve mentions The Viper has a history of freeing slaves, as does Rook themselves if they choose the Shadow Dragon faction as their origin, for example. But walking down the streets of Minrathous, you’d never know. Because Dragon Age: The Veilguard, for all its enjoyment otherwise, has one glaring issue: It’s too clean.

The world of Thedas is full of injustices. Humans persecute elves, fear qunari, and belittle dwarves. Mages of any race are treated like caged animals in most places. The nobility is corrupt. Although, Dragon Age has not always handled these injustices well, mind you. Many, many times I’ve found myself frustrated with moments that just feel like a Racism Simulator. But what makes it worth it, is when you can actually do something about it. These injustices are things that a good-aligned character strives to fight back against, maybe even for very personal reasons. Part of the power-fantasy for many minorities is that this fight feels tangible. I cannot arrange the assassination of a corrupt politician in real life, but I sure can get Celene Valmont stabbed to death in Dragon Age: Inquisition, for example. Additionally, these fictional injustices can be used to make statements on real life parallels, like any source of media. For example, no, the Chant of Light is not real, but acting as a stand-in for Catholicism, through a media analysis lens we can explore what the Chant of Light communicates on a figurative level.

When starting Dragon Age: The Veilguard and selecting to play as an elf – this should be unsurprising to anyone who is familiar with my bias towards them – I was fully prepared to enter the streets of Minrathous and immediately get called “knife-ear” or “rabbit”. But this did not happen. I thought perhaps it was just a prologue thing, but returning to Minrathous once again, there was not a single shred of disapproval from any NPC I encountered that wasn’t a generic enemy to fight. And even the generic enemies, the Tevinter Nationalist cult of the Venatori, didn’t seem to care at all that I was a lineage they deemed inferior before now. This is a stark difference from entering the Winter Palace in Dragon Age: Inquisition and immediately getting hit with court disapproval and insults. Are we now to believe that Tevinter has somehow solved its astronomical racism and classism problems in the ten years since the past game? Or perhaps are we to believe all the characters who have demonstrated Tevinter’s systemic discriminatory views were just lying or outliers? Because it makes absolutely no sense at all for this horribly corrupt nation to not have a shred of reactivity to an elven or qunari Rook prancing around. But here were are, and not a single NPC even recognizes my character’s lineage. And because this is so different from every single past game, it feels weird.

As an elf, you have the option to make a comment about how “too many humans look down on us” in one scene early in the game. You can also talk to Bellara and Davrin, the elven companions, about concerns that people won’t trust elves after finding out about the big bad Ancient Evanuris… but this is presented as if elves don’t already face persecution. It’s all so limited in scope that it could be all too easily missed if you are not paying very close attention, and coming into the game with pre-existing lore knowledge.

All this made it easy to first assume that the developers simply over-corrected an attempt to address the Racism Simulator moments. And if that was the case, than I would at least give credit to effort; they did not find the right balance, but they at least tried. However, the sudden lack of discrimination against different lineages in Dragon Age: The Veilguard is not the only sanitized example of lore present.

In Dragon Age: Origins, Zevran Arainai is a companion who is from the Antivan Crows; a group of assassins. He discusses in detail how the Crows buy children and raise them into murder machines through all kinds of torture. The World of Thedas books also describe how the Antivan Crows work, echoing what Zevran says and expanding that of the recruitment, only a select handful of those taken by the Crows even survive. When you start Dragon Age: The Veilguard as an Antivan Crow, you immediately unlock a re-used codex entry from the past, “The Crows and Queen Madrigal”, that says the following:

“His guild has a reputation to uphold. They are ruthless, efficient, and discreet. How would they maintain such notoriety if agents routinely revealed the names of employers with something as "banal" as torture.”

Ruthless, efficient, and discreet. Torture is banal. This is what the Crows were before Dragon Age: The Veilguard decided to take them in a very different direction. The Antivan Crows in this latest game are painted as freedom fighters against the Antaam occupation of Treviso. Teia calls the Crows “patriots”. And while I can certainly believe that the Crows would have enough motivation to fight back against the Antaam, given that it is in direct opposition to their own goals, I cannot understand why they are suddenly suggested to be morally good. They are assassins. They treat their people like tools and murder for money. Even as recent as the Tevinter Nights story Eight Little Talons, it is addressed that the Antivan Crows are in it for the coin and power, with characters like Teia being outliers for wanting to change that. It makes the use of the older codex all the more confusing, as it sets the Antivan Crows up as something they are no longer portrayed as.

I personally think it would have been really interesting to explore a morally corrupt faction in comparison to say, the Shadow Dragons. Perhaps even as a protagonist, address things like the enslavement of “recruits” to make the faction at least somewhat better. (They are still assassins, after all.) Instead, we’re just supposed to ignore everything unsavory about them, I suppose…

We could discuss even further examples. Like how the Lords of Fortune pillage ruins but it’s okay, because they never sell artifacts of cultural importance, supposedly. Or how the only problem with the Templar Order in Tevinter is just the “bad apples” that work with Venatori. I could go on, but I don’t think I have to.

It is because of all this sanitization, that I cannot believe this was simply over-correction on a developmental part. Especially when there is still racism in the game, in other forms. The impression I’m left with feels far deeper than that; it feels corporate. As if a computer ran through the game’s script and got rid of anything with “too much” political substance. The strongest statements are hidden in codex entries, and I almost suspect they had to be snuck in.

Between a Racism Simulator and just ignoring anything bad whatsoever, I believe a balance is achievable; that sweet spot that actually has something to say about what it is presenting. I know it is achievable, because there are a few bright spots of this that I’ve encountered in Dragon Age: The Veilguard too. For example, some of the codex entries like I mentioned, and almost all the content with the Grey Wardens thus far. It is a shame there is not more content on this level.

Dragon Age: The Veilguard is overall still a fun game, in my opinion. But it’s hard to argue that it isn’t missing the grit of its predecessors. The sharp edges have been smoothed. The claws have been removed. The house has been baby-proofed. And for what purpose?

-----

Want to support me writing more essays like this? Become a Patron!

[egophiliac]

I know we're not on the Hearts chapter but, I have a feeling the SSR will be Cater? But also him having the tear animation, since I have a feeling his dream will be a bit like Ruggie's q-q

I'm leaning towards either Cater or Ace, personally! Trey and Deuce have kinda already had their character arcs -- though someone else did mention to me that they thought it might be Trey, because so far all the vices have gotten one. though that might just be coincidence. we'll find out I guess!

my red-string-on-corkboard theory is that Ace is gonna get his arc + UM during whatever goes down with Grim, so while I could be completely wrong, I think it'd be nice if it were Cater's time to shine! ...also I am VERY curious as to what his dream is gonna be. 👀 like, I don't think he's gonna be all angsty or anything, he's a pretty cheery guy even though he pretends to be more vapid than he is, but...what would he be like if he were less. y'know.

(also I kind of want him to get the focus just because I think it'd be a shame if all he got was a super-quick 'oh his dream is to have a billion followers or whatever, now let's go on to the next person'. c'mon Twst. give him some love.)

[lucabyte]

Different standards

[remxedmoon]

black hole.

(full version below! also, tap to see the full effect!)

aaaaa i saw this trend on twitter and had to hop on the bandwagon!! and of course i had to play around with transparency again. it’s enrichment for me. also!! shoutout to this drawing for giving me actual wrist pain. not from actually drawing or anything but from having to resize the pieces 20 times because discord wouldn’t display them properly. but hey it turned out cool and that’s all that matters heart emoji

anyways!! here’s the full version + the version without the star! because for Some Reason i fully rendered the coin knowing it would get covered up. miseries!

[0xywave]

ok

[girlboss-apologist]

the thing about ncuti gatwa is that he is not only THE doctor but also THAT bitch

[alchimistetyche]

What do you MEAN Dean was down on his knees begging Cas to come back to him. Bloodied up not doing anything to defend himself from the angel, who, mind you, was actively beating the life out of him while he was begging.

And then you're telling me it WORKED?? Cas ACTUALLY broke free despite the conditioned response (which I also have thoughts on) he was supposed to have to Dean begging all because Dean pulled a "this isn't you babe"??

And then they NEVER GOT TOGHETHER?!-

I love rewatching this show but I forgot how insane Season 8 made me GEEZ-

edit: i added the link to me roasting naomi's lack of basic psychology understanding because someone kind of asked for it in the tags

[phantasm-echo]

Probably my favourite scene from the premiere, she was so based for kicking that droid

[sasseebeee]

love their bestie dynamic

[cutesnowybunny12]

Lucifer moves into the Hazbin Hotel

Hey everyone! Sorry I haven’t made an actual upload here in a long time (that’s not just reblogging other ppl’s posts) I will definitely do this again

Normally I only upload to my TikTok or yt buuut this seems like a video tumblr would like so I’ll post it here too I guess

I was randomly reminded of this video and realized this fit Lucifer perfectly so I of course had to make this immediately

Yes… in case you’re wondering he’s texting Alastor… why? It’s implied Lucifer might be moving into the hotel and be a part of the main cast next season (which I’m hoping for)

This isn’t necessarily a radioapple post but you can choose to interpret this how you wish

I personally just like to see them argue with each other cuz it’s hilarious. I hope to see more of that next season lol

Here’s the og video in case you want to see it!

That’s it hope you enjoy!