Private Nobody's Son, Nobody's Daughter.

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Can't say I wasn't surprised- never occurred to me that she might've had it hard too.


"Money can't buy love, I guess." He frowned a little, taking a deep breath, looking out to the sky, before a grin crept over his features when she reached over and started to scratch his shoulders. "Sorry you went through all that- kids don't deserve to carry all that sh- stuff from their parents.... royalty or not."

It didn't bother Wedge in the slightest, in the least bit. She was gonna be Reima, and he'd be Wedge. Titles, ranks, awards, medals- all that melted away. It wasn't about what was out there between them, it was them that mattered more to him. But he grinned a little harder, turning his head towards her, fixing his dirty-blonde locks.

"You're telling me I got to kiss a real-life princess?" He said with a grin, leaning back in his seat, a triumphant look on his face. He grinned a little bit, clearing his throat.

"Anaxes was... rocky. Rocky, lotsa hills. Lived there most of my life, before my dad got a job as a foreman on some big project on Coruscant. Momma raised us, daddy worked. Me, my sisters and brothers- all eight of us, went to Coruscant when I was 17. Wasn't too much after that that I saw an X-wing when I was out and about and well-"

He grinned at her.

"Can't say providence don't exist, when on the eve of your 18th birthday an X-wing comes screeching overhead, don't it?" He rubbed his hands together, leaning forward in the seat a bit.... he wouldn't mind if she scratched his back, is all.

"Grew up okay, I guess. Just not a lot money between all of us. Dad worked Construction, first for the Republic and then for the Alliance. Brothers and sisters work for the family business back on Anaxes, too. Construction, landscaping, you need it built, Draav will get it done, like he said." He looked out at the sprawl of the city, then back over to her.

"They're gonna love you to pieces, pretty lady."

He'd been shot down a few times. She saved his life, from his most recent one.

He knew the next fight was around the corner.

He knew that the Grim Reaper was around the corner for him every-time he got into the cockpit or put on that uniform.

So Wedge, blunt as he was, said what he could, when he could.

"Just like I will, from here to hereafter."

He turned and smiled broadly, ear to ear.

"Now come on, there's a mixed drink that costs too much with our name on it down there. Punch it, and let's make fools of ourselves."


Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"Eight!?" Reima echoed incredulously, her eyes widening a little, equal parts horror and wonder. His poor mother. Reima was one of two -- so far, God forbid -- but that was part of her culture. Her grandmother had been a Bakuran namana heiress, married for the dosh she brought to the table and in spite of the queer customs of her native Cosmic Balance. Luckily, Reima's grandfather had forbidden any notions of feathers and bowls with his children, choosing instead to sort them based on their gender, as was the Galidraani way.

The joke, it had turned out, was on Grandfather. The daughter he had expected to marry into some aristocrat and pop out children had ended up leading a fearsome galactic superpower. The son he had placed all his faith in had died in the mud in some ill-fated Sith Lord's war. Funny now that all turned out, but as per usual the writer digresses with characteristic tedium.

"Eight," she repeated, giving her head a subtle shake. "I can't imagine. What was that like? Are you close in age to any of them?" A thousand questions raced through her pretty head and she didn't want to overwhelm him. "Are they -- still on Anaxes?" Not a particularly elegant way of asking if they were all still alive, Reima thought, but it was something. The girl had always been too curious for her own good.

Something in the pit of her stomach dropped when he mentioned them loving her, like the exhilarating moment your podrace went hurtling off solid ground and plummeted, thrilling an terrifying in equal measure. She thought about it a moment, but was distracted from it all when Wedge expressed a wish for mixed drinks. "You read my mind," she told him with a little smirk. "I'm after something sweet and cold."

Just a few minutes later -- the last mile within city limits, Reima kept to the speed limit -- Reima was pulling into a car park in the entertainment district of the town. She turned the engine off, hopped out, and rounded the vehicle to link up with the Captain. Easily, effortlessly, her arm linked through his, two swells on the town. "Where to, Cap?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

That woman, that lovely woman.

"Later on I'll be sweet and warm to you, play your cards right."

Wedge quipped, slipping his hand into his jacket, while she hung on his arm. He pulled himself upright, and looked around. The nightlife wasn't exactly bustling, like, for instance Coruscant's nightlife, or larger planets or cities. But it was healthy, they were not alone in their tourism.

And so there were options.

Wedge walked along for a while, unable to take his eyes off of the river that ran through the town, and the excellent landscaping that dotted the streets. It must've taken years and years to build it- it was old enough to be ancient in some places. He looked up at the stars, unsure of how to answer her.

"Sweet and cold... sweet and cold..."

And, as if happenstance itself heard them and the universe produced something- a rather small venue, outdoor seating and all. Wedge smiled, looking over at Reima. The interior was quite narrow, opening up to a larger dining room. The tables were a dark wood, and the contrast of the white tablecloths were something he couldn't help but admire.

But the kicker, of course, being the dim lighting, fire, candles, or at least, appearing to be candles. He smirked, leading her into the bar without so much as a discussion. After all, there were more bars, and there was more time. Lots more time. A slip of a credit to the waiter, a whispered word of confidence and a small declaration of who he might've been, and the wait staff moved and hustled a little bit- clearing off a rather ornate table, close to the bar, but tucked away in a small crevice. Wedge sat down Reima first, running a hand over her shoulder, before he took his seat, elegantly crossing his legs.

He stared at her for a while, and couldn't help but smile.

"Ain't you glad I told all them people that their ideas are bullshit?"

His eyebrows raised, his tongue pushing against his cheek with his mischievous, small victory.



Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima couldn't help but read something of a suggestion int his words as they followed the river through the city center. I'll be the judge of that, she silently mused. Whatever she was or had been, Reima Vitalis was respectable now. The town was pretty, quaint but not in a touristy way. Her attention lingered on a storefront here, a fountain there, a trio of children playing with a ball. She paused a moment to observe as two of them threw the ball over the third's head, until the third got a lucky leap and snatched it out of the air, at which point the one who threw the ball took the middle position.

Then they were off again, and Reima tucked her fingers into the crook of Wedge's elbow again. Occasionally, they squeezed. She just liked being there in the falling dusk, with the Captain.

Underprivileged upbringing or not, Wedge was the consummate gentlemen, pulling out her chair for her. Just went to show that money didn't buy class. Reima took a seat, smoothed her skirt, slanted her legs just-so. She studied him for a few moments and she got the distinct impression he was sizing her up as well. Her lips twitched up at one corner, slightly enigmatic. She noted that he hadn't answered and she didn't pry. These things would come naturally or not at all.

"Do you mean the Senate?" Reima asked, leaning forward conversationally. "And that ridiculous little jumped-up general...." She shook her head, her dark brown curls swaying in response. "I'm relatively new to all this. I wasn't there for the last war, but even I can see what it's done to people. The galaxy isn't gung ho about it like that woman thinks. It's a calamity to be endured and ended quickly. Funny how the more brass is pinned to a chest the less in touch with reality they are."

Her dark eyes searched his a moment as they waited for their drinks. "Do you worry there's going to be... fallout?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

Memories, future, it all blended together.
​

"I don't like you being there for any war, nor me for that matter." His eyes left hers, observing the stars beyond her. Lost in the memory of wars past, he turned his eyes back to her, refocusing. The look last a few moments, just a few seconds. But it was then that Reima could see it-

The ways that all those wars, surviving being shot down, evading capture, killing- it was starting to weigh on Wedge. And he had been carrying that weight, shouldering the burden alone for so long that he didn't even think to consider what it would be like to not be alone. His eyes glazed over, glassy for a moment. They hardened, they remembered.

He came back to her after a moment, taking a deep breath.

"The General can play hopscotch on train tracks, for all I care. People who live in high cotton- they don't care much about us, you and I, truthfully. They say they do, but." His lips pursed. "You know. I don't need to wax poetic about it, you, of all people, know." She might've even known better than him, known more personally how out of touch the more elite of society were. Especially in the Alliance, which spanned dozens of planets, Wedge knew that he was a cog in the machine, an apparatus to keep control at this point. Wedge had lost his patriotism, his zeal, his love of the Alliance. But he'd never say that publicly, but Reima could pick up on it.

He rested an elbow on the arm of the chair, a hand pinching his mouth, thinking how to answer her last question. He shrugged a little, looked up at her, moved his hand away from his mouth, smiled and-

"I don't really give a shit, you know?"




Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"I was bred for war, you know," Reima said with an enigmatic smirk. "My mother conquered a significant portion of the known galaxy, and my father was in the Galidraani Defense Force and joined the stormtrooper corps in the old First Order. I'm given to understand that was the result of him seeking to show my mother that he was, in fact, quite masculine." A little chuckle there as she plucked up the cocktail menu and began to flip through it. "We all know how that turned out." It would have been funny if it weren't so tragic.

She looked over the top of the menu at him, dark eyes mirthful, eyebrows lifting. "Don't think I'll have that problem with you," Reima added.

When the waitress came around, Reima ordered something called a Spinnaker Sling, which sounded refreshingly delicious as a combination of cherry liqueur, lime juice, club soda, bénédictine, and -- because you can take the girl out of Galidraan but not vice versa -- gin.

She reached over and laid a hand over his for a moment. "It's easy to feel that," Reima said quietly. "But it's not universal. There are plenty of people in the brass who care about people like us. Don't lose sight of that."

His answer to her final question was classic Wedge, and she giggled into her fist. "Oh, Cap. Never change, hm?"

Their drinks arrived and Reima lifted her glass to toast him. "Your good health, Wedge, and the Revenant."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

She made nights into days with just a smile, you know?


Wedge's eyes softened. His gaze looked downward, and a single hand reached across the table, grabbing hers in return after she began to speak about her father. Despite how their relationship might or could have been, he felt his loss through the fact that he was close with his father and family. Losing him would've devastated him, tore him apart- even as Wedge got older, the thought of losing him was getting harder. His hand thumbed over the back of hers, and he looked back up when she was done speaking.

"I know one that does."

Someone that cared. Someone that didn't want anything from him, just wanted everything from him. But she was right. Being bitter about an entire organization wasn't helpful. He didn't have to say it, but he nodded. She was right, and he was being foolish and stubborn.

He took his- fruitier than hers.

Two types of local fruits he had never heard before, and a type of rum. Sweeter than sin. But a bit heavy on the rum side. She raised to a toast, and there was a brief, pregnant pause from Wedge. He was searching for the right thing to say.

"To you, and to the two of us."

It was a statement, a declaration, and a question, all in one. His eyes waited for a response. Of the now, the later, the tomorrow, the next week, and the years after. He saw everything in her, he saw everything that he could ever hope to be, hope to want, and pray for. His breath sharpened, quickened.

His heart beat faster for a few seconds, faster than it did in any maneuver, any mission. Wedge may have been one of the Alliance's best pilots, but he was still a man. And that woman? She wasn't just some woman, she was the woman for him. Nobody else could, or would compare.


Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Under ordinary circumstances Reima Vitalis would never have touched the rim of her glass to the rim of another; it simply wasn't done in the better houses of Galidraan (or Dosuun, for that matter). But something about being there with Wedge, about their both having survived Coruscant, both being on leave -- well, to hell with all those restrictions. She clinked her glass with reckless abandon. "The two of us," she agreed, beaming over the rims of their glasses at him.

During which time she had a chance to survey his concoction which seemed to be even more chock-full of fruit than her own. "What is that?" she asked him -- no judgment, just curiosity.

Reima took a sip of her drink, relishing in the sweet tartness of the cherry and the lime as it provided a counterbalance to the antiseptic pine of the gin. She allowed herself a moment to simply indulge in the cool sweet of the drink, closing her eyes, and then she set it down and lifted her lashes to once again frame Wedge.

Her left eyebrow lifted a little, her pert lips twitching down at the corners with concern. "Are you all right? You look -- flushed."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Perfect, forevermore.

"Breaking rules about glasses already, Lady Vitalis? And this, my fair lady, is- the fruitiest thing on the menu they have."

Wedge might've been more cultured than he let on. Or, maybe he just knew a bunch about her culture. He let those words sink in, just staring at her when he took his drink. He couldn't help himself. Everything felt right. Everything felt good.

Like there was something worth fighting for, worth living for, again. The fog, the mess in his head- gone. He took a while to respond to her, letting out a soft chuckle, before his lips pulled upwards into a smile, a true, genuine smile.

"I've been in over two dozen combat operations. I've been all over the galaxy. I've flown next to stars, sun of countless worlds, seen every light in the galaxy from every which angle. I've seen meteor showers across dozens of planets, I've seen the lights of the universe from one end of this galaxy to the other. But Reima, I was always missing something."

He leaned back in his chair, just to get a better look at the woman across from him.

"And I think, hope, and pray that I found it and that she's sitting across from me. I wanna sit across from you every chance I get."

Reima didn't need Wedge, not entirely. At least- he didn't think so. He could've been wrong, but he knew one thing for absolute sure-

Wedge needed Reima.

He'd lasso the moon for her. He'd dig for diamonds bare-handed for her. He knew that much, for damn sure.

"I don't wanna be alone anymore, Reima."

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima settled back into her chair, much the way one would expect a panther to slink, or perhaps a spider, her slender figure suddenly all limbs. Her cheeks adopted a rosy flush; it was not her first time hearing such a proposition, but it was the first time she believed the sentiment was genuine and not just the result of a schoolboy's -- or a schoolmaster's -- trousers being too tight. Which wasn't to say that the Captain's trousers... well. Best not to think about that now. These were heady matters of discussion, after all.

She swirled the contents of her drink idly as she considered. And then -- her voice brittle, really much more insecure than he would have ever heard her voice, typically ringing with a fighter pilot's bravado -- she said softly: "You don't know me, Wedge." It wasn't a rebuke. It wasn't even a rejection of his quasi-proposal, merely a caution flag. "I may well be, and in fact I think you'll find I am, rather a pain in the neck." She lifted the drink, swirled it before taking a sip.

"Which isn't to say I'm not eager to see what might come of this," Reima added quietly, dark eyes soulful and searching as they met his. "I just don't want to let you down, you know? And there's the Squadron to consider. What do the regs say about... this sort of thing?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Not a day, not a second, that I didn't want to be where she was.


That girl had legs, arms, for days. Weeks, even. And boy, could he climb up the branches of that tree-

He went from gazing at her slender figure, a smile creeping up to his features. It was like a ripple in a pond, slow at first, but grew quicker until he was fully smiling. He took a sip of his drink, then reached across, grabbed hers- and tried it, tilting it back. He looked down at the table, speaking into it.

"Reima, I can't wait for my neck to hurt."

He looked up at her. Blue eyes, full of life, hope, and desire, met hers. He met her gaze unafraid, unflinching, without fear. "Reima, you never let me down before. Reima Vitalis has never let me, or the Alliance, or the Squadron down." He stood up, moving his chair next to hers. He sat back down slowly, his face close to hers. So close.

He lowered his tone into a whisper, his breath with a faint hint of fruit and alcohol.

"You want me to check the regs first, or you wanna kiss me?"

He smiled, toothy, happy.

"I wanna see where this goes every day until the sun burns out and the stars fall outta the sky."

He moved closer. Daring her. Tempting her. He wanted the Lady. He wanted her more than the sky wanted blue. He wanted her more than fire wanted fuel. He wanted every piece of her, every bit of her. Nothing short of everything would do, nothing short of her would compare.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima's lips flattened to stop her from smiling too broadly. Wedge Draav was what her granny would have called a smoothie -- especially since he'd shaved his mustache. Charming, almost debonair, certainly eager to leap into any fray. Don't say I didn't warn you, she thought dryly, her crimson lips twitching into an enigmatic smile as she lifted her glass again, took a long drink of the fruity cocktail.

The young aristocrat considered his question seriously; she knew it was rhetorical for him, but as her finger traced around the rim of the glass, sending rivulets of condensation down the curve of the glass, she really did think about it. She was aware that there was much about how people saw her that would be fixed, like concrete, when they discovered who her parents were. There were character traits she possessed that were a result of their influence or the other circumstances of her upbringing, which only drove her to claw away what she could, to take into her own hands the means to define herself. As much as she resembled the cold and careful Natasi Fortan -- they shared the same porcelain complexion, the same rich, glossy chestnut locks, perhaps even the same inborn aloofness -- Reima Vitalis was her own woman, too.

She was just as capable of jumping into this with both feet as Wedge was.

"The latter, of course," she answered, and she leaned over to affect the choice, pressing a claret kiss to his lips, leaving a smudge of her lipstick almost like a brand. Reima settled back into her seat and lifted the drink again, though she took a moment to lick her lips before taking another sip. "Besides... what we do with our leave is nobody's damned business, hm?"

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Marked, branded, didn't mind it one bit.

Wedge was a poor man's man, a child of many. He never cared for politics. He never cared for anything other than what he made for himself, or built himself, or earned. Things before or after him were mysteries, things he was unwilling to solve. But Reima?

That was a puzzle he'd put together every day.

She kissed him and marked him, an imprint on his lips and his heart. A brand smack-dab on his heart, on his mind. And he didn't mind the burn one bit. He waited for a second, for once, at a loss for words. But not at a loss of expression.

He finished his drink, looking over his woman, feeling good better that he was her man.

"Before we do more kissing back at my place, you know we have to go dancing by the river, don't you?"

It wasn't a question, it wasn't a query, just a statement of fact. He really did want to dance with her. And rip her out of that dress- but moreso, he wanted to hold that fancy woman tightly, pull her in, and sway back and forth until the moon was higher in the sky and the stars shined a little brighter.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima saw something, some glint in the Captain's eyes. He has plans, she thought. She swirled the contents of her glass as she studied Wedge over its rim. She felt color creeping up from the neck of her blouse as she reconciled herself to the notion of what it would mean for her. She had had lovers before, but never quite a one night stand. As rebellious as Reima was, she never could quite make that leap.

Her dark eyes softened, like two little melting chocolate chips. "I had a feeling," she finally answered him before lifting her drink for another sip. "Though I think if I'm going to dance in public I'm going to need another one of these." Fingernail tapping a melodious little beat on the glass. "Maybe two." She drained her glass, only about a mouthful left in the bottom, and raised a hand to gesture at their passing waitress.

"So I don't know how in the loop you've been," Reima said conversationally, leaning her head on her fist, her chestnut hair cascading down her shoulder. She could feel the tension draining from her shoulders, slowly but surely. Gossiping with a friend, regardless of what would happen later, was comfortable. Fun. "Have you heard of the Misfits Squadron? Some kind of -- paramilitary affair, I think? It's all news to me, but I didn't hear much detail on my way out the door."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Reima Vitalis

Wasn't always about the big talks.

Wedge briefly glanced at the menu, and received another impossibly fruity drink. The waitress gave him a slight smile- she found it funny that such a daring scoundrel type wanted something fruity to drink. Especially that sweet and fruity.

Wedge received it, and nearly choked when she asked him about the Misfits. He clicked his teeth, laughing. He looked around the room, as if to double check that his less-than-savory shenanigans within the Alliance would stay between them. He leaned in, beaming nearly ear to ear. He was clearly about to spill mischief, gossip, or a combination of both.

"I uh... may have helped them steal some ships and some other supplies. Or at least, moved some things around I wasn't 'sposed to." Wedge nearly giggled after his statement, unable to contain his excitement regarding it. He was definitely a rulebreaker, and pushed the envelope quite a bit. From flirting and kissing daughters of Dukes, to breaching protocol, to the occasional dip into hallucinogenic drugs for recreation.

"Basically a whole squadron of me-" Wedge raised his eyebrows and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Not quite rolling them, but halfway.

"Well, trying to get there."

Wedge knew he was good at what he did. It was part of what made him good- he knew his capabilities. He knew what he was good at. He leaned back in his chair, and stared at Reima. The shape of her face, the color of her eyes. And he knew what he had and what he was good at. And what he realized he was missing. His hand reached over to hers, intertwining his fingers with hers, smiling as he took a sip from his drink- and then another from hers.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima leaned forward, eager to share some gossip, and was surprised to find that Wedge had been involved in some sort of heist. She had heard snatches of conversation about it in the few minutes she had spent in the Starfighter Corps environs getting her leave paperwork signed off. It was, perhaps, the worst kept secret in the Corps. And until that moment, she had never considered that Wedge Draav might have part of it.

Now that she considered it, it only made sense to Reima that he would be involved. There was only one Revenant Squadron and it was... well, if not Wedge's baby, then at least his responsibility. "I guess it's... important," Reima said, twisting her wrist so that their hands jostled together. "You know, to make sure that the -- what are they called in sport? Minor league? Farm team? Ah -- feeder team, I think they call it on Galidraan -- to make sure there is a deep bench to draw from for Revenant Squadron. We won't all live forever, you know."

She hesitated, leaning forward to look into her drink, as if she was examining its contents and not trying hard not to remember Wedge with bits of his starfighter sticking out of his otherwise flawless abdomen. "Well.. I will. But the rest of you -- all bets are off."

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

Coulda knocked me over with a feather, maybe half.

Reima Vitalis

Wedge shrugged his shoulders. He was good at racing, but other than things that had an engine, he was never really one for sports. Which, may have been a shame- his natural athleticism helped him over the course of his time in the military, his reaction time alone let him fly without a droid in his X-wing.

That, and Wedge hated droids.

"No, we ain't gonna live forever." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, reassuring her. He could see it in her eyes, remembering or worrying about something. He leaned over, just enough to be closer. He wanted her peace, he wanted to be her peace. "But I got a long life to live, and so do you."

He smiled, that handsome, puckish rogue smile of his.

"Baby, we gonna dance or do I gotta drag you outta this cute little place?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"We gonna dance," Reima assured him. She finished her drink and set the glass down. "Let me just go and powder my nose and then -- yes -- we gonna dance."

Her fingers traced along his shoulder and across the back of his neck before she disappeared into the crush in search of the ladies room. She freshened up, splashed cold water on her face and reapplied a fresh layer of Points in Sexterity sdf. She popped her collar, spritzed her pulse points with perfume, and ran a comb through her dark hair. When she returned back to the table she didn't bother to resume her seat.

"Ready to kick your heels, Flyboy?" She leaned over his shoulder, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and encircled his shoulders with her arms.

Wedge Draav​

 

[Wedge Draav]

​

It was all her, from here on out.

She returned to the table, and he swore from here on after, she walked in slow motion. He took in every feature, every perfect feature. He couldn't move, he was transfixed, paralyzed. His heart skipped a beat, eyes slowly blinking. Ice-blue eyes took her in, every facet, everything and anything. He wanted the moment to last forever.

She kissed him, she kissed in a way no one else ever had, or ever would again. He couldn't help but reach up and run his hand over her forearm.

He stood up, taking his woman by her hand, leading them out into the cool night air. It was still warm on Naboo this time of the solar cycle, but dropped down a good bit once the sun had finally set. And set it had.

The night was cool, and there were some people out, but only barely. But one Wedge wanted to see more than others. A street performer that had captured his attention, and the inspiration for him being out here specifically- playing some kind of stringed instrument native to naboo. His ears picked it up before his sight did, and he saw the man, case at his feet, playing it near the riverfront.

The riverfront faced a series of cascading hills and waterfalls, impossibly beautiful landscapes juxtaposted with ornate landscaping and stonework. He turned and smiled, pulling Reima closer to him, getting closer to the street performer.

"Sat here and listened to him for twenty-five minutes when I first got here, on my many cabin fever days."

Reima Vitalis

 

[Reima Vitalis]

The sound of gentle strings spinning out some kind of melody reached Reima's ears as she wandered along the street with Wedge. The night had fallen and cast a chill in the air -- not quite cold, but she found herself shrinking closer to Wedge like a lizard to a sun-warmed rock. Her fingers laced through his and she shifted closer, matching his stride. The longer they walked along, the more distinct the music got, until she could make the musician out on the esplanade.

They moved closer, and soon Reima found herself swept into the dashing pilot's embrace. She put a hand on his shoulder, her other clasped in his free hand. "I'm curious about you, Wedge," Reima said quietly, her dark eyes earnest as they looked up into his in the falling dusk. "I've seen your moves in a fighter. I've seen your moves on the beach volleyball court. But I don't think I've ever seen you dance."

She licked her bottom lip and tossed her head back to get her chestnut locks from her face, settling closer to him, not for the first time appreciating the warmth of his frame next to hers. "It's beautiful. What kind of instrument is that, anyway?" Reima didn't recognize the tune, but it was easy to find the rhythm, moving slowly in step with Wedge.

"This is nice," Reima said, her voice small, any trace of flirtation and bravado missing from it. I could get used to this, she thought, a fond smile coming to her lips.

Wedge Draav​