Private Victory Ball

[Maeve Linahan]

Another day, another party to attend.

Since the war’s end, Maeve had struggled to find new assignments to fill her time. Her investigations on The New Way and the criminal element in the Outer Rim continued, but now that the Brotherhood was gone, she was no longer constantly swamped in battles or climactic duels with Sith Lords.

Now, she was just a Jedi Knight on guard duty, a guest in yet another ball.

She stood in the courtyard of the royal palace on Tepasi, clad in a beautiful dress with her hair loose and draped over her back. Evening approached, and with it, the many guests who’d been invited to celebrate the Galactic Alliance’s recent victory.

The party was hosted by one of the more influential members of the Senate: Kordon Yin. A noble of royal birth, Senator Yin radiated power and wealth, and gold practically dripped from every one of his fingers, covered in rings and dazzling gemstones.

Normally, Maeve hated men like him, but she had a responsibility as a Jedi Knight to serve as his security for the night, and also, of course, to celebrate. She’d been told by others at the temple she needed to ‘relax,’ to stop ‘hungering for battle.’ But how could she? Maeve had been fighting all her life. She couldn't just... stop.

But this evening, perhaps, she supposed she could at least try.

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

They didn't make nice clothes for men with one arm, so Cale had made do and tapered off the arm on something decent. Why Senator Yin had bothered to invite him of all people to the little soiree couldn't have been a bigger mystery, but Cale also couldn't find it in himself to care. He caught a few stares, some lingering longer than others, but none staying for more than a few minutes before whatever interest they had in him flickered and died. He was glad to be little more than a passing fascination to them.

They'd told him socializing would be good for him, that he needed to try and enjoy the triumph over darkness rather than dwell upon where the boy he saw as a son had gone off to. Aleks was grown, and Cale had to let him be just that. There was a limp in his step, and the bridge of his nose was covered with a bandage both for decency's sake and because he detested the kind of excess it would've been to force it to heal faster with expensive procedures. The wounds at least made it a little clearer what he was, what he'd done,

Cale played nice with the other guests as long as he could manage, but inside the second hour, he'd already vanished onto the venue's balcony away from all the noise. He looked out over the bustling speederlanes and the lights of the surrounding city, a lit stimstick trapped between his lips as he leaned against the railing and tried to think of a way he'd survive the rest of the evening.

It was only then he realized he wasn't the only Jedi in attendance, and for half a heartbeat he thought about going in to liberate the poor sap, but thought better of it when he realized not everyone was as averse to it all as he was. No, certainly they were having a good time, whoever they were.

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve was not having a good time.

She'd given it a try and it was not enough. For what was supposed to be a celebration, she guessed she was not in much of a celebratory mood. A part of her wanted to blame the guests themselves—snooty nobles, social climbers and ladies with upturned noses. These people were the cream of upper crust society and Maeve didn't fit in with them. She didn't belong. Or at least, she didn't want to belong.

While she was on security detail, Senator Yin seemed safe enough. He sat among his inner circle, his laughter cutting the air like rusty knives, and after an hour of observing the room, she'd exhausted her patience in guarding him.

So, as the revels continued, Maeve did what she did she best. She left.

Walking through gossiping guests, she plucked a flute of champagne from one of the liveried servants and took a careful sip. Her dress trailed behind her as she cut a path towards one of the open balconies, which looked bare and empty of anyone else. At last, a chance for her to enjoy some peace and quiet.

But she was not the only one who'd had the same idea.

A man stood alone in the lanternlight, one-armed and dressed in a tidy suit, a beard smattering his jaw as he smoked a stimstick. Maeve ignored him as she settled against the railing herself, her drink bubbling in its glass. For the longest time, she said nothing. There was just silence and the city beyond.

Then, a sigh. "You look about as bored as I feel."

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

“What gave it away?” Cale asked absently, looking away from the city lights and back over his shoulder to the woman. The dress was flattering, but not enough to deceive Cale into thinking the blonde-haired woman wouldn’t jump at the chance for some action. His saber was across the small of his back, tucked under a coat and well out of sight, he imagined she had hers hidden likewise. The Senator types liked the security that came with Jedi, but weren’t fond of the anxious buzz that came with lightsabers.

Typical politicians.

“You know this Senator or did you just draw the short straw on assignments?” Cale didn’t bother with the games, beating around the bush to get the point where they both declared themselves Jedi seemed tiresome. His choices of duty had involved supervisory duty for a pack of younglings being transferred to the Tyrhon temple, or this. Begrudgingly he’d chosen the latter, favoring a score of drunk socialites to the madness of a youngling horde. And he still had a hard time with Tython, going back always made him uneasy.

He took a long drag, and blew gray smoke out into the night sky.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"There's food, drink and luxury cigars inside and you're out here smoking what looks like a stimstick made in a Coruscant sweatshop." She looked ahead at the city, not once glancing over at the man and the waft of smoke circling his eyes. She tapped her thumb at the base of her glass then drank again. "You've also been wearing that dead look on your face since you arrived. I know it, because I have a few of my own, too."

A thin smile tugged the corner of her mouth, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. True enough, Maeve had noticed the man the second he'd entered the palace. That was her job as an undercover guard, after all, and like her, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

There was the obvious lack of his right arm too, of course. Whereas most people would've had it replaced with fancy cybernetics or a functional prosthetic, this man kept it without, tying it off with the sleeve of his suit. Why he did, she had no idea. As a reminder? A form of self-punishment? Tempted as she was to ask, she kept her lips tight.

"Short end of the stick," Maeve answered instead with a nod. "But that's the risk that comes with being a Jedi, I suppose. We're doomed to serve the political elite." She leaned against the railing. "How about you?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

Cale scoffed then broke into a chuckle, a smile flashing over his features as he took the stim from his lips and turned from the skyline to full face her. "I put this together myself thank you." He feigned taking offense as he shook his head and placed the lit stick back where it had come from and took another drag.

"Since I arrived? You watchin' me or somethin'. Can't imagine why." Security duty necessitated being aware of anything that stood out, and a man with one arm in a galaxy of prosthetics certainly did. People had always given him their best guesses about why he went without, but none had ever dared to guess that the nature of the wound simply didn't allow it. It was too boring an answer, but the truth often was.

"It was either play chaperone for a youngling transfer to Tython or this. Still thinking it's too early to tell if this was the right call." He met her eyes when he said it, a dry smile curling at the corners of hips mouth under the beard. Like her, it never never quite reached his eyes.

Out on the Rim he, Aleks, and Ronan had been able to be free of the politics and formalities, they just helped where they were able, killed the bad guys and saved the good ones. It'd been simpler, and a deal less frustrating. As much as he was getting used to having a bed again, he hadn't missed this part of Jedi life.

"It's Cale." He leaned and offered out an open hand, quietly a little glad for the company.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"I watch everyone when I'm on duty. Everything. The girls who came in late because they'd been busy smoking spice in their luxury speeder. The nobleman who keeps sharing long looks with the female pianist, despite being arm in arm with his wife. I'm a Jedi Shadow. I'm trained to notice things." She swirled her glass again, then finally turned to the man. "Like you, for instance."

"Tall. Heavy beard. Doesn't care what other people think but hates dealing with them. You don't quite fit in, too, so I'd say either you were born into a different kind of family or in a different century." She looked back out to the city, its neon glow like an entire sun on its own. A long, awkward silence settled between them.

"Sorry. That was probably a bit much."

She downed the last of her champagne and bent her head apologetically, hair reflecting gold in the lantern-light. "I'm Maeve. Maeve Linahan." She accepted his hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's good to meet you, Cale."

It was a familiar name, one she might've heard or read back in the archives on Coruscant, or maybe in some late mission report from Exegol. The man was clearly a veteran and no doubt with twice as much as experience on his back. He could at least afford her respect.

"Believe me when I say it," she added, "but anything is better than baby-sitting a bunch of children. Even if it's baby-sitting grown adults." She cast a look over her shoulder back to the party. "It's not an easy job, but it's one of the few jobs we Jedi have left."

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

There was a brief moment where his stomach dropped, and he wondered if the conversation was going to take a sharp turn for the worse. A Jedi Shadow might've been privy to the warrant that had once been placed on his head, the one alleging him to be a traitor and terrorist affiliated with the One Sith. They'd been gone for decades, but justice didn't often come with an expiration date. Valery had believed him, his brother had believed him, his boy, Tallia, they'd all trusted him.

Eventually though, someone wasn't going to buy it, regardless of the truth of why he'd done all he had. He didn't blame them either, the idea that Cale had been little more than a puppet dancing on a string while his mind was imprisoned seemed far too convenient.

"That wasn't too much, but you're a little off the mark." Cale chuckled at her assessment of him, and the conclusions she'd drawn. "I was born a few hundred levels down from here, the family that raised me before the order though, they were exactly like this." They were worse, for all his extravagance Cale sincerely doubted Senator Kim had adopted a child with the intent of turning them into an unconscious sleeper agent that might one day serve as a servant or vessel for a long stirring darkness. Only his 'parents' had been so vile, at least in that manner. He remembered flashes of the excess though, lingering memories of fine foods and luxuries.

"That was before the order took me in. Decades ago mind you, not centuries, I'm not that old." Cale shrugged as they shook hands. "Maybe I'm just not much of a party person, Maeve Linahan."

He let out a wry laugh as they both looked back into the Senator's party, and tried to convince himself that the people in there were important enough to warrant their attendance. Inside loud toasts were being made, celebrating an end to their 'sacrifices' as if any of those inside had made any.

"I used to like it, helping with the younglings. They were a handful but it wasn't so bad." Cale mused, melancholy seizing him for a few heartbeats.

"It's good to meet you too." He added in an effort to not seem impolite.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"So, you're in your… fifties? Sixties?" she guessed, sharing his wry smile. "You look remarkably young for your age, has anyone ever told you that?"

A small laugh escaped her and she shook her head. An obvious joke. "It's okay. I've known Jedi who'd slept for much longer. If we counted years in cryo, that would make Master Noble at least four thousand years old, give or take a few centuries." Maybe more. There were very few details about how she had come to wake up in this new, changed galaxy. The experience couldn't have been easy.

"Good point though," she continued, acknowledging that Cale was probably just more withdrawn. Like her, pleasantries and smalltalk—particularly with snobby aristocrats—was not her strongest suit. Now, killing Sith? That was a different story. "Making conversation with these kind of people is like watching paint dry, and most of these guests have the depth of a dinner plate."

She tapped her finger against the base of her glass. Cale was not like them. Whether it was because he was a Jedi, or just because he was someone who really understood what battle and sacrifice felt like, she didn't know. Maeve just felt more comfortable here, outside, alone.

"And what do you mean you used to like it?" she repeated back to him, one eyebrow raised. The idea of anyone enjoying baby-sitting children surprised her, and why Jedi like Valery willingly subjected themselves to it would forever keep her wondering. Sure, they could be a handful. But they could also be a nightmare, too. Worse than dueling a Sith Lord, at least in her honest opinion.

Maeve watched him, suddenly curious. "What changed your mind?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

"No, they mostly just tell me that I look like I'm missing an arm." Cale answered dryly, though without any sharpness to the words.

"Fifties though. Did some time in cryo and a stint in the Netherworld, does wonders for the skin, I could not recommend it any less." He cracked another smile, warmer than the last. "Dunno how many years I've actually lived, low forties maybe?"

Cale nodded along when Maeve spoke of Valery and those like her. It seemed that every few months some new undiscovered derelict would be picked by the hand of fate to have its suspended animation fail, and have the centuries-to-millennias-old occupants awaken. He had lost a decade or so, they had lost lifetimes, he couldn't even begin to look imagine what it must've been like. At least when he'd returned there had still been familiar faces around, but fate had not been kind enough to wake him up in an era of peace like he'd have wanted.

"I uh," Cale's face seemed to darken, his features sombering and he fought away the phantoms of nightmares long over. "I raised one, a kid. I guess he was all I had in me." Cale lied.

Aleks had done nothing to damper his feelings on the matter, he was and always would be more a son to Cale than an apprentice, even if their ages were not quite so far apart as to make that entirely plausible. The true reason for his apprehension around younglings made for less pleasant conversation though, and so he hid it away. She'd notice, she was trained to, but Cale took a long drag from the stim and hid the discomfort anyway.

"What about you, what makes you prefer these plate-depth socialites to a couple of kids? They just easier to manage?" Cale gave a smirk and blew smoke into the nighttime air.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve offered a thin smile at his dry words. Inappropriate as it was to laugh, he didn't seem too bothered to make light of his experience. Losing an arm and being left to rot in a cryo-chamber would've left anyone a broken mess, and while Cale obviously didn't look happy with his current situation, the galaxy hadn't destroyed him just yet.

After everything that had happened, with the war's end and the billions of lives that had been lost, Maeve supposed that was the best anyone could hope for.

"A kid?" Maeve said, surprised. "I should've known you were a father. What's his name?"

She'd no idea if his son still lived, but she hoped. Maybe it'd been after Cale had woken from his cyro-sleep, maybe he'd found a girl and fell in love, but given the distant and grizzled look about him, Maeve just knew that wasn't the case. A dark history hung on his shoulders. A great shadow stood at his back.

She knew, because Maeve had demons of her own, too.

The real reason why she couldn't stand children was because they all reminded her of the childhood she never had, and the little sister she never got to save. But she would never admit that to anyone, not even Valery. Not even to herself.

"I'm not good with kids, that's all," Maeve answered. "They're messy, irritable, and I'm not exactly… sensitive enough to deal with them." Some had told her she was as blunt as a hammer and with twice the force. She was not always easy to work with. "Put a baby in my arms and it'll probably burst out crying. I'm just not that sort of Jedi."

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

“I-, sort of, I guess? He tried to pickpocket me and somehow ended up on my ship a few years after I woke up, then he weaseled his way into being my apprentice. Things were just always more familial.” It was strange to say it out loud, to acknowledge the bond he and Aleks had forged He didn’t deny that he was the boy’s father though, blood relation meant little.

“His name is Aleksandr.” Cale said with a bit of pride that made it easier to forget his frustrations with his former pupil. He wondered what it would’ve been like to be as some of the other Jedi were. To fall in love and have children, to find peace and strength like that in another person. There had been a girl, once, but destiny had been cruel the first time, and he’d squandered the second decades ago when he was still too afraid of what he’d been.

He’d written off that part of life, and stopped wondering if it’d ever happen. It’d passed him by now.

Cale had done her job once, and he still knew how to read a person well enough to know he wasn’t the only one haunted by the past. He didn’t pry though, only made quite assumptions about what could’ve shaped her into what she was now. So instead he chuckled and nodded.

“Thankfully Aleks was past the worst of that when we crossed paths. Just had the adolescent angst to deal with instead.” He remembered the dirty-faced boy of 12 who he’d found staring angrily off into the void of space, trying to will the stars into righting the path his life had taken. Cale had wished it was that easy.

“I wasn’t really in a place to take care of him, or anyone for that matter. But kids have a weird way of pulling the best of some people and the worst in others, you don’t strike me as the latter.” He gave a shrug and looked back over to his fellow Jedi. “But yeah they can be real pains in the ass, at least you can tell a drunk politician what you really think about them.”

The stim was burning low, and Cale pulled it from his lips with a long sigh, eyeing the glass she'd kept in her hand and the drink still left in it. "Anything worth drinking in there?"

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Aleksandr," she repeated after him, searching the maze of her memories to see if she'd ever met him before. Nothing came up. Although she was a Jedi Knight, Maeve still had a long ways to go in familiarizing herself with the rest of the Order. But that was the point of serving as a Shadow, wasn't it? The path was a lonely one, and she'd chosen it willingly.

It was interesting that Cale had taken both a son and an apprentice, but the bond of a Master and Padawan was like family. Maeve understood.

She had been terribly close with Master Severin, the man who'd found her in the wilderness, bloodied and alone. He had taken her in, taught her the ways of the Jedi, and fashioned her into the Knight she was today. He was as much as family as her own, gone as they were.

"For what it's worth, you're a better father than most. You're still with him. You're still teaching him." She looked out to the city again, then the stretch of stars and constellations above. The galaxy was tremendous, and everyday, with each new meeting and encounter, it grew in her eyes. Maeve would never be able to fathom just how vast it could be.

At his next words, she turned to him and smiled. "Yes, you'd be right about that, too. Mostly. Even with grown men, my honesty hasn't always been well-received." She'd attended a host of parties in the past. Every time, there were always a few noblemen wanting to crawl their way up her dress, and every time, she offered them either a few choice words, or the point of her knee against their groin.

After that, they could be just as infantile as a first day newborn.

"There's mostly wine and champagne inside, but I believe I spotted a bar when I came in. We could find something a little stronger, if that's what you're looking for." She leaned off from the railing, expecting that he might follow her back into the palace. "Do you drink often?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

"I hope you're right, boy always had a tendency to act before thinking." So had Cale once upon a time, when he'd been whole. He'd always been eager to go out and fight the good fight, and it'd taken Aleks to prove to him there was a point to seeking out that kind of conflict again. He'd spent so many years in exile, running from the sins his body had committed against the commands of his mind, it'd been hard to believe there was any coming back from it.

"Grown men tend to benefit from honesty the most, even if they don't like what they're hearing." No one needed the truth more than those prancing about inside, celebrating a victory that wasn't theirs, but Cale imagined botching one of his first formal assignments to give the gathered social elites 'what they deserved' wouldn't have gone over well. Still, when she leaned off the railing, he found himself absently following suit.

"Not anymore, but I can make an exception." He remembered the pounding headaches, the stink of spice and alcohol heavy all around him, and how no matter how much he'd drunk or how much spice he'd taken, he still hadn't been able to sleep without nightmares. He'd barely been sober enough to fight the day he'd met Aleks, and he'd still nearly died. But he wasn't going to pass on a chance to waste their gracious host's expensive liquor.

Maeve Linahan ​

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Oh, I'd hate to enable you," she said, hesitating briefly. "But as long as you think you can keep from spiraling down into a life of heavy alcohol abuse, I suppose we could try a little something at the bar." She nodded. It was ironic of Maeve to say that, and only because she was an alcoholic herself.

Nightmares plagued her sleep, too. Twisted reminders about her capture and torture at the hands of Sith cultists. But the worst dreams were the good ones.

Like her father, braiding her hair. Or her baby sister, screaming murder as she chased her through the fields back out at their countryside home on Chandrila. They hurt the most, because every time, she would wake up missing them more, and more, and more. Drinking had just become an easy way to cope.

That, and killing Sith.

Maeve wandered back into the party, the noise of gossip and conversation washing over her like a wildfire. The guests had grown significantly more drunk and rowdy since she was last inside, and she had to be very careful not to elbow into celebrating strangers as she cut a path to the bar.

"The end of the war," she told the other Jedi over her shoulder. "It seems everyone is keen on drowning themselves in liquor." She smirked. "When was the last time you drank, Cale?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

“You worried you'll be a bad influence on me Maeve?” He asked with a dry smile.

He wished he had a more concrete answer to her question. No longer did he waste himself away in the vain hope of sleep, having been taught a method that when correctly applied left him too exhausted even for nightmares. It made him too tired for dreams too, but that was probably for the better as well, what was there to remember that wasn’t tinged with regret?

Still, he didn’t quite remember when the last drink he’d had was. Had it been a few days ago? Had it been right after Exegol? Cale didn’t know, but he clearly remembered the last time he’d been well and truly drunk.

“After Illum, before that after Tython. I guess I get drunk when we win.” Cale shrugged and called on the force, an invisible hand lifting up a bottle of Corellian brandy that must’ve cost a fortune, and pulled it over to them without looking away from the other Jedi. “Guess I’m no different than them.” He mused, nodding to the increasingly intoxicated crowd. At least he’d been there, fighting the war they were celebrating, maybe that gave him a good enough excuse.

“What about you, when was your last encounter with drink?” He didn’t think it would’ve been long, she seemed too much like him to stay dry for extended periods.

Maeve Linahan ​

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"You mean besides thirty seconds ago?" Maeve said with a small laugh, recalling the glass of champagne she'd snatched before meeting him. "Well, there was the previous night, but only some wine. Now the last time I got actually drunk? It's been a while." If 'less than a month' meant a 'while,' that was.

"I'm not a raging alcoholic," she added. Ironically, at the same time, she took hold of the floating bottle of brandy and uncorked it just with the turn of her hand. With the other, she flicked a finger and two empty glasses slid down the counter, each stopping short before them.

"I filter out the content in my system with the Force, if only to keep my head clear and working." Like drawing poison out, she'd grown remarkably good at doing the same with alcohol. "I'd hate if someone like Master Noble caught me slumped against a wall, slurring every syllable. It's not exactly the behavior you expect from a Jedi."

It might've seemed counterintuitive, using her powers to keep herself from getting too drunk, but that was only in public. Drinking alone was another story.

Maeve poured out the brandy for them both, setting aside the bottle. It was a strong vintage and she could tell just by its scent. So, eager for a taste, she took her glass and raised it to Cale's. "Who are we toasting to tonight? If you can do the honors."

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

He laughed with her, and for the first time in years remembered that he could've used the force in order to keep up appearances when drinking. It seemed pointless to him most times, if he was drinking to the point where he would've been drunk, then drunkenness was the desired effect. But, like her, he understood that there was a lot to risk if one got truly drunk in a public space. He just had never found it in himself to care. Perhaps he'd just been too jaded for too long.

"Yeah, Val's scary like that, she's got a way of just sneaking up on you." Cale smiled taking the filled glass in his hand and giving a shake of his head as he remembered how Master Noble had all but cornered him and Aleks on Illum some time ago. It'd been their first encounter and had gone far better than he'd anticipated at the time. In fairness, he'd expected to be forced into a fight, so the bar had been rather low. "Oh, yeah, what's expected of a Jedi." He mused derisively.

"I probably just spent too much time away, but most people don't seem to care how we behave, so long as we're doing good out there." Cale nodded out towards the balcony, though in truth he was shaking his head towards the wider galaxy, where normal people lived hard lives while those around them sat fat and happy. "Don't tell Noble I said that though, I already asked her husband if he was her brother when he introduced himself, not trying to dig myself a deeper hole." Cale grinned and sighed.

"To our brave friends here," He lifted his glass. "And to the ones who made it all happen." He threw back the drink, and let the dark liquor run down his throat.

Maeve Linahan ​

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Careful. She knows how to Force Cloak. She may be listening." Maeve shot him a small, teasing smile. She'd seen firsthand how Valery could phase in and out of a wall or traverse a crowd without anyone noticing her, and although she knew the Jedi Councilor would be far from a place like this, she couldn't deny the little stab of paranoia she felt at talking about the woman behind her back.

It was still funny, though. Talking about them.

"Wait," she said. "You told Valery's husband what?" Maeve put a hand to her mouth and choked back a laugh. Now, that was a surprise. "I'll do my best not to say more about it. Lips sealed."

One elbow leaning against the bar, she clinked her glass to Cale's, the toast complete, then raised it to her lips. The fig-like smell tickled her nose as she drank, a satisfying burn rolling down her throat with each gulp. Perfect. She let out a sigh once she was finished, grateful Cale had managed to find this wonder of a drink. So, naturally, Maeve poured herself another round.

"You seem to know the Nobles well," she began, feeling a renewed sense of curiosity for the man seated beside her. "Are you good friends?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

It was always possible that Valery was there, lingering, but he imagined the pregnancy would keep her from being quite stealthy enough to get the drop on them. But he wasn't going to start underestimating her now, he knew better than that.

"He introduced himself as Khalil Noble I didn't know!" Cale protested with a laugh. He had never asked or tried to find out what Khalil's family name, it wasn't his place to pry. "Suppose I need to check my biases, how very un-Jedi like of me to assume he couldn't take her name." He added, finishing off the brandy with a shake of his head, still grinning.

Cale shook his head in answer to her question, he hadn't been back long enough to have friends, at least not in his mind. He trusted the Nobles, liked them, but it felt presumptuous to expect them to call him a friend. Maybe he was too hard on himself, maybe he wasn't, he decided to pour himself another drink rather than think too much longer on it, offering to fill her glass back off as well.

"I don't really know. Most of my 'friends' aren't around anymore." He shrugged. "What about you, you close with them?"

Maeve Linahan ​