Black Stripes and Blue Stars

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcUeothSPyc[/youtube]​

Back in the capital, Commander Morro was on a short leave, knowing that the next time she would be deployed would be on Ossus for a strike upon the Silver Jedi. She did not break her routine much - still worked out every morning, studied some tactical maps of the sector where they would be in a week’s time, and kept to herself. Surprisingly, she was contacted by the Captain of The Pursuit for a rendezvous at The Imperial March, a small, dingy and technology-free cantina which was by invite only and only admitted the highest ranking officers.

Spoiler

Bored and intrigued by the invitation, mostly because Morro thought she could have access to the top brass in the Navy, she accepted the date and accompanied Captain Jair.

The bar was just as expected - dark, seedy, smoky with cigarra, redolent of strong alcohol. The Chiss officer had worn a long, black dress which sparkled like the stars above Dosuun. It covered her body but in the way that only hinted at the exotic blue skin underneath, and perhaps Captain Jair had a thing for aliens, or maybe he just enjoyed working with Morro.

Either way, she was open to whatever the night would bring.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber had a special level of disgust and derision for the Imperial March. While other establishments like Clivedens and the Agonaut carried a level of sophistication and charm, the March was just horrible. The grimy, dim lighting disgusted Rausgeber. And yet here he was. Many of Battlegroup Imperator's command staff were already at the bar, lounging about and drinking. Carlyle had left the organisational planning to Commodore Alf Stewart.

Stewart, much to Rausgeber's chagrin had chosen the March for the venue. Entering, while attired in his neat, signature white uniform, Carlyle seemingly gravitated everyone's attention towards him. Many of the more junior officers, those of similar to lower ranking than Morro, jumped at his arrival, and saluted. Carlyle waved them down, "We're not on deck gentlemen." He announced, not in his usual, strict tone, but it still held an authoritative tone to it. "Please, sit down before you fall down." He gestured down, for the officers to sit.

Carlyle made a beeline for the bar, and immediately let his scorn for the barman be felt by him. "One Avalonian scotch please." Carlyle drily began, "No ice." He added, in a colder tone, "And get me one of those delicious little straws with the little umbrella's." He commanded, before reaching into his pocket, and slamming down some credits onto the bar, with a thud, "And get the other people here another round, on me."

@Morro

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

While Morro expected the most powerful and influential Captains and Admirals to be there at the March, she did not anticipate Admiral Rausgeber’s presence and was quite taken aback to see him there, grumbling and uncomfortable among the Imperial glitterati.

But then in an accent that was vaguely Avalonian - the Chiss was getting better at identifying inflections and localization in First Order space - she heard her superior officer ordering a round of drinks for everyone.

Captain Jair snaked his arm around Morro, a little too boldly for a first date, she mused. Smelling alcohol on his breath, she wondered if he’d already drank a bottle of champagne or two before he’d picked her up. He fancied himself a Chiss language expert and they spoke in Cheun:

“Veo csarcican't vah ch'acacah ch'at cssen'v, Bat?” asked the Captain.

“Ei ch'otcavurt vim ch'atetin'b bah ch'an'cevzo catacan'cim.”

There, thought Morro watching her date stride purposefully over to the bar, weaving a bit as he went to order her something “expensive and exotic with rare ingredients.” The Chiss officer had not spoken to the Admiral since their tense exchange in Cloud City over her uniform. She approached him now, and slightly out of character, leaned close, plucking the little paper umbrella out of his drink, stating, “Admiral Rausgeber, you are ruining a glass of perfectly good scotch with a bit of frivolous decor.” She twirled the toothpick part between her fingertips and gave him a half-smile, one that could be categorized as flirtatious with just a hint of the cold, alien contempt she often radiated.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

"Commander Morro," Carlyle began pointedly, "I thought you would have learned from our last meeting to never meddle in a man's affairs." He drily scoffed, snatching back the umbrella, like a jealous child. However, he did offer something of a response to her, "We're about to spend the next six months travelling around the Galaxy wiping out the enemies of our government." He mused, before gesturing around them, at the various officers, now smoking, drinking and talking.

"And by neceessity, some of the brave men here, won't be making it back." His gaze was sullen, as he turned away from the Chiss and her brilliant blue face, to watch the revelries. "It's a duty we all undertake, and it's an oath we cannot break, but, there is a feeling of lamentation." He quietly informed her, feeling a sense, of, almost nostalgia in a way.

He turned back to her, and plopped the paper umbrella into the glass, and took a sip, "And if I am about to go and die for the Empire, then you can damn well be prepared for the fact that I'm going to enjoy this drink with as many extras a possible." He continued. Taking another sip, he visibly winced, as the warm liquid travelled down his sensitive throat.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Morro titled her head to the side, and though her black glossy hair was swept up in an elaborate and intricate series of braids, one of her chandelier earrings made of multifaceted, scarlet Kallistan gems caught the glow lamp, echoing the toss of a woman’s hair in that way that signaled there was a little bit of sophistication left in the dingy confines of the cantina - along with the Admiral’s quaint paper umbrella of course.

Again the Chiss officer's sequined black sheath was not revealing, not in the slightest, but it hinted at her hourglass figure and almost teased the eye with the rare glimpses of blue skin underneath. Morro could not suppress a grin at the ensuing banter, the Admiral never failing to make a proper authoritarian show, even over drink accoutrements.

“I suppose,” she agreed, hesitant to disagree with her superior in even a social setting. She could feel the eyes of random officers upon them, but it seemed at the each time Morro turned her head to find out who was staring, noses were turned into drinks, guilty pupils glancing away.

“I sense the lamentation, as you call it.” She said the word as though tasting it for the first time. “We call it ch'ithe'umah… mourning. There is no Cheunh equivalent for that word. Perhaps you humans find warfare too emotional?” As much as she tried the commander could not help being outspoken. It came naturally for Chiss to deride other species even unintentionally.

She leaned inward to the Admiral and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “Captain Jair is a little too drunk for my comfort, I think.”

The elegant alien wasn’t sure if Rausgeber would do anything at all about her unwanted companion, but she felt as if he might care a little bit that one of his esteemed officers was in no shape to be drinking more at the Imperial March.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle found some amusement in the Chiss' assertion that human's were not ready for war. He expressed it politely, through a wry smile. Some of it came from a historical context, more of it came from a military view, and then a little from his own experiences. "I can assure you, that we take war very seriously here, and our reverence comes not from sadness." Carlyle informed her, this was neither the time or place to properly rebuke her, "However, when you have worked with some men for so long, you do feel something of a fear for them when you know you're about to embark into a warzone." He paused, "I fear for you, that is something you will learn the hard way."

Commander Morro did find a sympathetic ear with the Fleet Admiral. He was torn, Jair was a good man, and to deride him openly would shake the confidence of his younger officers. Especially if it looked like he was going to take the side of a junior rookie, over that of a senior commander. One who had stayed with Rausgeber through thick and thin. "I can appreciate your concerns." Carlyle whispered to her, "But it's a night of revelry. If Captain Jair's behaviour concerns you so much, tell me." He informed her, "I'll escort you to your home." He said, "You needn't worry about the good captain."

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Morro blinked and gave the Admiral that red orbed stare, which appeared hollow at first, but upon close scrutiny held a variety of inflections - her brows knitting and then relaxing as she listened, an upward curve of a smile, glowing white teeth which nervously bit her bottom lip. Chiss were notoriously difficult to read, but once you spent enough time with their species, it wasn’t too hard to detect the emotional change.

“I associate drinking with a loss of control.” Commander Morro was a stickler for remaining in perfect mastery of any situation, disciplined and taciturn. However, she did have a fondness for her Admiral and listened to his words of wisdom as a dedicated student would.

The Chiss officer glanced back over her shoulder to see what Captain Jair was up to. He held both drinks for the pair and was deep in conversation with a Commander Taa, until he saw his date looking over and then with the arc of his arm, waved at Carlyle and Morro awkwardly, perhaps a little surprised that Morro was leaning in so close to their esteemed Admiral.

“I may take you up on that,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose. “What about you, Admiral? Do you plan to revel with the boys? To lose control?” A female server in a skimpy, vaguely-Imperialistic uniform came by with expensive cigarras on the house from the March proprietor. Morro selected one and examined it between her blue index finger and middle finger, but did not place it in her mouth yet.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle listened to the Chiss' comments carefully. Although he considered himself something of an authority on the subject of history, cultural anthropology and the minutia of different cultures. However the Chiss' ambivalence to alcohol was not too much of a surprise to the officer. He paused, this would have to be a thoughtful repose, "Alcohol does not necessitate a loss of control on anyone's part. It is not so much a surrender." He paused, and smirked, "That just appears to be a side effect of enjoyment."

He considered her proposition, "I do wish to revel with my colleagues, I think that it's a natural reaction any, and everyone has to something." Carlyle said, quietly musing his position, "But to say that I wish to lose total control would be a false equivalency." He paused, and daintily plucked a cigar from a tray, and then looked at her, "Perhaps a better question, is to why you aren't?" He asked with a small smile pursing his lips. "We're about to be deployed to some far flung part of the Galaxy."

"Go, enjoy yourself." He then chuckled, a little, "Consider it, a direct order, commander." He cheekily added, before turning to the bar, "Barkeep," He barked, "Get this woman a shot of your strongest liquor." He commanded.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Admiral Rausgeber paused, and Morro watched him with an expression that let him know, like most junior officers, she hung on his every word. She hoped he would impart the kind of wisdom she craved from a mentor, and for an inexplicable reason, yearned for especially from Carlyle.

And he did not disappoint. She pondered about what it would mean to really surrender - to relaxation, to contentment and yes, even to desire. The Admiral was right. Alcohol only greased the wheels of distraction. To surrender to someone - say to a lover. No that required control. Complete control. An oxymoron if there ever was.

“Yes, Sir.” Morro’s hand nervously played with the dangling earring for a moment and then tucked a wisp of her raven locks back into her intricately braided up-do. A glass of Breath of Heaven was placed in front of her, and the Chiss, not one to back down from a challenge, tipped the shot glass to her lips, and raised her chin to swallow the warm alcohol, the skin of her neck softly rippling as the liquid made its way down her esophagus. Captain Jair was distracted with conversation in another part of the room.

“Your turn, Admiral. Another shot please for this very distinguished gentleman I will have the pleasure of serving under one day soon.” The word under had a slightly flirtatious connotation, not to mention her bold prediction that she’d eventually be second-in-command material for such top brass as Rausgeber. But that bold House Nuruodo military ambition ran in her bloodstream and the alien woman would tolerate anything - abuse, xenophobia, sexism even - in order to obtain the role that she wanted in the First Order Navy.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

An eyebrow arched as she began to take the glass, and drink from it. A smile pursed his lips, and he grinned. Rausgeber lifted his own glass, and took a hefty sip from it, enjoying the look on her face, as she drank it. He noticed her neck contorting slightly, and snorted piggishly. "Well done commander." He mused, lifting his glass, and bowing his head. He raised his own glass, and took a hearty swig from it. He let the raw, warm sensation trickle down his throat, and visibly winced somewhat, before composing himself.

The Fleet Admiral chuckled somewhat, "You're a bold one, aren't you?" he asked, taking a shot as the barkeep offered it to the officer. He took the shot glass and examined the firey red liquor. It almost matched the complexion of Morro's deep red orbs. Carlyle took a whiff, and felt his nose curl. It smelled like TIE fuel. He winced somewhat, but would not be deterred, there was a point to be proven here. "I must say," He began cockily, "Should you at all manage to translate that attitude to battlefield performance, I could see you rising far." The Admiral replied.

He lifted the glass, and his head, and sculled it. And by the force, did it burn. Carlyle felt as if the very lining of his throat was being stripped away by paint thinner. All he could feel was that sting and the powerful, almost mouth numbing after taste. Whatever it was, it tasted like it was industrial-grade stuff. Rausgeber's face contorted, eyes closed shut, and his mouth clamped down. He groaned at his predicament, before opening his eyes. If this had been some challenge by the Chiss, he had lost.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

The corner of Commander Morro’s painted lips quirked upward at the praise. While she realized his question of her boldness was hypothetical, she answered just the same.

“You do not become victorious if you do not take chances.” Her head swiveled around so that Rausgeber would see how intricate the braids were as they wound around the nape of her neck. “Like Captain Banning, I suppose. I see why you honor him. He is brave, yes, but I wonder if he thought he was taking a chance by asking me out.” She turned to face him again, the smile wavering, more difficult to read: “Or did he think an alien would be an easy lay?”

Yet her grin widened again at the Admiral's ovation, realizing that annoyingly, Rausgeber’s admiration ticked a little box inside of her, perhaps allowing for a slight rush of serotonin, causing Morro to wonder if she was somehow mistaking the Admiral for some kind of father figure.

No, that wasn’t it at all. But his praise and admiration felt like something she could easily grow to crave.

Furthermore there was a sensitivity about the older human that surprised her. He was not like Commander Maxim, a naval officer with a legendary temper who demanded strict obedience from his crew. Rausgeber had layers, flaws and empathy, and coupled with a larger than life reputation, the Chiss officer found herself quite captivated by him. She tapped her long, red fingernails on the bar and said, “Two glasses of water, please. The Admiral cannot be too drunk if he’s going to walk me home. Or would you prefer to drive? I imagine that your personal speeder is quite a fast model.”

Across the room Banning finally wove his way over to the pair and his words slurring, said, “Commander Morro, there’s shhssomeone I want you to meet.” The Chiss gave the Admiral’s wrist a squeeze to let him know that she was continued to be bothered by the Captain’s visible drunkenness.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

He smiled a little, and listened to her little speech about boldness. His throat still stung from the bitter tang of alcohol, and His face however darkened a little at the mention of Banning. Was she at all trying to edge him out? Trying to gain some form of upper hand in some form of leadership scuffle he was not privy to. He would however be diplomatic. There would be no attempt at malice in his reply. "Erskine Banning is a good man of moral character." Carlyle sternly replied, "If he wished for carnal satisfaction, I believe any upstanding member of the Morale Division would be more than happy to oblige."

He paused, perhaps he had been a little too cold with her. He did not want to be too stern or scornful. He let their conversation linger, and took a sip from his glass of scotch, finishing the glass off. He watched the Chiss order two glasses of water. "Thank you." He said, smiling a little, trying to retain what had been lost by his outburst. When the barkeep returned, with two glasses of water, Carlyle immediately took one, and sculled it, much like the alcohol he had consumed. He could feel the fire spreading, but it was now a more muted taste, thanks to the water.

When he heard her talk of his speeder and personal property Carlyle blushed a little, "There will be no driving from me." Carlyle informed her, an awkward smile pursing his lips. He was a little bashful. "I uh, I don't have a speeder." He informed her, chuckling awkwardly, "I've always found that my apartment has been close enough to most locations, so I walk." The real truth of the matter was far more pathetic. Speeders simply scared Carlyle. So much so, that he felt a little pit form in his stomach when on the subject.

However, before he could elaborate more, he heard Banning's voice, and the tightened grip of Morro's hand around his wrist. He knew this is what she had been waiting for. Someone to tell Banning no. Carlyle turned towards the officer, "Erskine, I sincerely apologies," He began, "But I believe your date is feeling quite ill." Carlyle lied, again. "Rather than spoil the rest of your evening here, I'll be the one to take her home." He paused, "Understood?" He added, commandingly.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Morro wasn’t consciously edging Captain Banning out. At least she didn’t consider that to be true. Did she want to replace him and become a valued senior officer for Rausgeber? That had been quite apparent in most of their encounters to date. But whether it was a conscious choice or not was up for debate.

Perhaps she did feel that he was her rival and therefore, romance or even a one night stand was out of the question.

Carlyle’s answer was revealing. But instead of pondering Captain Banning’s nighttime dalliances, she wondered about the Admiral’s. Did he oft employ the Morale Division to ease some kind of stress and tension?

“Oh?” she said casually. But inside the elegant Chiss officer wondered why the Admiral did not care to drive. Like the admission that he was never a fighter pilot, Morro was continually surprised by her superior officer’s unusual upbringing.

She was quiet, waiting to see what the Admiral would do to Banning and he handled the younger officer with grace and poise. Captain Banning scrunched up his face, clearly uneasy and disappointed, but he would never ever go against Rausgeber’s wishes.

Morro clasped the arm of the Admiral, her blue fingers lightly touching the divot of his elbow, brushing against the thick wool of his uniform. The pair walked, turning a few heads until they were outside of the Imperial March on the walkway. The air was cool and goosebumps appeared on Morro’s lapis lazuli skin.

As they walked, the Chiss's kitten heels clicking upon the stone, she asked, “You’re not a pilot, nor a driver. But you are a leader and contain an immense knowledge of starships and how to inspire your crew. What was it like growing up for you?” She pondered the man who stood by her side, confused by his clear vulnerabilities, wondering how he’d rose to such sublime power.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Rausgeber was personally relieved as he left the Imperial March. The dingy bar and smoke atmosphere did little to settle his mood. The admiral made a mental note to stop by Clivedens after he turned the Chiss home, perhaps he could find some alcohol and more respectable company there. He walked along the cool streets of Avalonia, pausing briefly to light a cigar. The silence was nice. Reminding him of a time before Sieger Ren. Before the First Order. Although he wouldn't trade the future he had now, there were some nights he wished things were back the way they were. Before the war. The death. The destruction.

Was it all worth it? His silent lamentation was interrupted by the Chiss. "Quiet." He mused, a small smile pursing his lips, the cigar's flame lighting his face up a little, "We weren't well off, but neither were we poor." He paused, "Father's work put me through the academy, Mother's perseverance and knack for machinary got me through that." He paused, reminiscing a little bit, "I do sometimes miss the innocence of it all. I often revisit my past, and wonder, what went wrong." He quietly mused, taking another puff, as smoke now obscured his face, shrouding it with nothing but the orange glow to go by.

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2O6duDDkhis[/youtube]​

Outside of the confines of the Imperial March, the entire countenance of the Admiral changed. He seemed more relaxed, not as stiff gaited, and just maybe, Morro thought, he was a bit more in his element socially. She assumed Rausgeber to be one who enjoyed the spotlight, surrounded himself with fanfare and pomp, but he appeared to be much less extroverted than she’d originally thought.

The speckled red and black ember of the cigar glowed in the darkness, the smell reminding her of various officer clubs she’d inhabited throughout her life. It also reminded her of the Admiral himself and of their very first meeting together. The cadence of his voice, his unidentifiable accent, his emotional sensitivity - all of it began to paint a clearer picture of the Admiral, but at the same time made him seem more enigmatic. Morro could understand why Carlyle had such a mystique about him among the First Order ensigns.

“But Admiral, anyone would look at you and think you had just about everything a galaxian could want in life. What did go wrong indeed? Are you not a happy man?”

Maybe it was a naive question, but Morro was much younger and being as ambitious as she was, she only assumed that power of that level would equal happiness in some respect. Or at least contentment.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

[SIZE=11pt]Rausgeber sighed, and paused as the two walked over an overpass. Below them, speeders and off duty troopers, with their dates walked through the brightly lit streets. The bridge they sat on was darkened, with the street light needing a replacement bulb an age ago. “I’m not happy Commander.” Carlyle mused, leaning on the railing.

“I may have had success on the field of battle, I may have career, I have no doubt you and every officer in that pub back there envy,” He said, “But there really is something I miss,” He mused, “I wish I had the intimacy of a woman.” He sighed softly, before turning to the young Chiss.

“I sacrificed my youth chasing promotions rather than women, and look at me.” He gestured to himself, his tone rather disparaging, “I’m a chainsmoking, alcoholic who has no legacy.” He confessed, “They may write my name in history books, I may have a ship or two named after me, but that’s nothing to leave behind.”

[member="Morro"]

He paused, and took a long deep drag from the cigar, and glumly turned back to the bright lights of Dosuun. “I want a woman.” He said, “I want an intelligent woman, not one of the whorish bimbos from the Morale Division, to call my own.” He frowned, and let his head hang low, “Someone who I can love.” He looked down below him, “That is the legacy I truly want.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Rausgeber sighed, and paused as the two walked over an overpass. Below them, speeders and off duty troopers, with their dates walked through the brightly lit streets. The bridge they sat on was darkened, with the street light needing a replacement bulb an age ago. “I’m not happy Commander.” Carlyle mused, leaning on the railing.

“I may have had success on the field of battle, I may have career, I have no doubt you and every officer in that pub back there envy,” He said, “But there really is something I miss,” He mused, “I wish I had the intimacy of a woman.” He sighed softly, before turning to the young Chiss.

“I sacrificed my youth chasing promotions rather than women, and look at me.” He gestured to himself, his tone rather disparaging, “I’m a chainsmoking, alcoholic who has no legacy.” He confessed, “They may write my name in history books, I may have a ship or two named after me, but that’s nothing to leave behind.”

He paused, and took a long deep drag from the cigar, and glumly turned back to the bright lights of Dosuun. “I want a woman.” He said, “I want an intelligent woman, not one of the whorish bimbos from the Morale Division, to call my own.” He frowned, and let his head hang low, “Someone who I can love.” He looked down below him, “That is the legacy I truly want.”[/SIZE]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

His answer still surprised her even though she’d braced herself for anything. Morro watched as the Admiral admitted his loneliness, leaning on the railing of the overpass they’d stopped on. The Chiss cocked her hip against the side of the railing, facing Rausgeber, one hand mirroring his on the ledge. She knew he had no wife, and if he missed female companionship, it was likely he had no lover.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked. Many of the higher echelon officers had carefully crafted backstories, some fictional, to compliment the First Order propaganda. His history was virtually unknown to her.

The hollow, aching feeling of pity tugged at her innards. “I beg to differ,” Morro said, pulling a long thin cigarra out of her patent leather clutch bag. She did not smoke often but now seemed like the right time. The scent would make its way to him, tobacco spiced with some kind of heady, unidentifiable fragrance. The junior officer felt a strange urge to take him into her arms and show him that kind of solace, the kind the Morale Division could provide, but she remained immobile, cigarra perched in her slender fingertips, silvery whips of smoke curling towards the sky.

Not a maternal woman, Morro understood his plight to a point, but as young as she was, the flame of ambition still burned as red as her irises. She did not know how to comfort him. Not without breaking her own self-prescribed code of not mixing business with pleasure. Besides, Rausgeber would never entertain an alien companion.

“I’d suggest holo dating, but I think you are above putting yourself out there like that, Admiral.” The Chiss had problems with emoting as humans seemed to do quite easily, anywhere and at any time. But in order to show her compassion, she lay her hand upon his, just a platonic pat, or at the most intimate with the warm, loose grip of a sibling.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle softly shook his head, "No, I haven't." He admitted, "In fact, I haven't been in a steady relationship for nearly twenty years." He paused, turning to face here, "That's nearly as long as you've been alive Morro." He said, quietly, "It's too late for me." He sighed, looking down glumly again, "If there is one thing you can ever do Morro," Carlyle began again, "It's to find yourself a man, woman, whatever." He turned, and locked eyes with her, he took a drag from his cigarra.

"And what you do, to that person. That significant other, is you hold them close to you." He paused, and breathed out a thick cloud of smoke, "And you love them, and you hold onot what you have. What you've got together, for as long as you possibly can." He pouted, "Because the Force knows, I haven't." He sullenly admitted.

"I'm an old man Morro, and maybe, maybe there will be someone who wants me. Some young officer, looking to scale up her career," He continued, "But, I just wish I could go back, and do it all again. Maybe try some things differently. Try to get the girl." He smiled a little at her, "Don't let your youth pass you by, like mine did." He again paused, "Promise me that."

[member="Morro"]

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Twenty years! Morro wasn’t sure how to react to that. On one hand she lauded him for being so devoted to his work that his personal life took the co-pilot’s seat, but likely his core emotional needs, not to mention the curative potential of physical love, was clearly being neglected.

Even the Chiss had experienced a couple of recent relationships, although troubled and stunted by her military duty and long periods away from Csilla in the Expeditionary Fleet. Any other suggestions - calling ahead to have a Twi’lek dancer waiting for him as he arrived home, or suggesting they visit a less popular cantina where sordid arrangements with strangers could be quickly and easily agreed upon - just seemed hollow.

He seemed so glum that she nearly wanted to offer herself up, just as a platonic companion to keep him from going to bed in such a depressed state, but that would certainly be a strange proposition and quite against her own better judgement.

And would it be platonic, Morro? Or are you looking for excuses to continue talking to the Admiral, enjoying his company until the morning light?

The emotionless red eyes gave nothing away, but her hand trembled as she crushed out her own cigarra on the railing.

“I promise, Admiral.”

And what she promised seemed to take on a gravitas in her own mind that she found difficult to explain, one which made her feel, again that the night was coming too soon to an end.

"But I am young, and so are you," she lied, desperate to entertain him, to have him turn back into that determined and somewhat jovial superior officer, brimming with sharp emotion on the bridge of the Malice. She put her hand to his cheek, careful to not disturb the cigar between his teeth.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Carlyle rolled his eyes, and smirked at her, "You know exactly how to say the right thing." Rausgeber took another deep drag from his cigar, and then back at the street, "But I'm really not." He coolly informed her. "I'm not some kind of virile young stud, not some kind of up and comer. I'm an old man. And soon enough a dog who'll see his day."

He paused, and glumly looked down upon the street, "But tonight's not the night to do this." Carlyle said, turning back and locking eyes with the Chiss' red orbs, "We should continue." He stood tall, and gestured for her to come close. "Perhaps Captain Banning isn't your type." Carlyle said with a small smile pursing his lips, "But if you were to find someone of say, the calibre of Commander Horton, or my nephew, they would not do you wrong."

The streets became better lit as they walked along, and began to enter the brightly lit Dosuunian boulevards of central Avalonia. There was a muted sense of joy. Most of the merrymakers had either returned to home, or were still dining in the luxurious resteraunts. All of which were funded and supplied by imperial enterprise.

Carlyle chuckled a little, "I apologies," He began, "But I must ask," He paused, and let a softly given mark of his amusement come onto his lips, "But I must ask, where am I escorting you to?"

[member="Morro"]