Lieutenant Lannik Hayes, Imperial Stormtrooper Corps
Location: By the bar, Imperial Palace, Level 5127, Coruscant
Interacting with: Kyli Graf
In the vicinity: Tanomas Graf
So absorbed was he in his melancholic mood that the stormtrooper did not realise that the very woman he was seeking for had passed him by right at his back. Not until she tapped him on the shoulder and damn well scared his kriffing bones out of his flesh.
Perhaps once, Lannik would just have suppressed his reaction like how he often did when the agent used to ambush him and speak up while she was standing in his blind spot. But after the events on Arkania, followed by relentless campaigns on Bogden, Kuat, then Kiros, the man was more than a bit of a mess. Before he could even think better of it, his arm moved for the small pistol that laid concealed beneath his dress uniform, until he remembered he was safe. Letting out a shaky exhale, the lieutenant flung his arm away as though the blaster that he barely touched with the tip of his fingers was a white-hot brand.
It was then that the familiar lilt of Kyli Graf tickled his ears, low and husky as she ordered a brandy from the bar. Still facing away from her, his eyes widened for a moment and his fingers trembled for a fleeting moment, before the stormtrooper caught himself. “It really isn’t,” Lannik said, all his earlier rancour hidden beneath a crooked grin as he turned to face the much taller woman. “Too much fuss and too little fun.”
Fake it ‘til you make it.
In an echo of Kyli’s own deeds, the lieutenant leaned against the bar top, angling his elbow in a manner so he was propped casually against its surface.
“It’s been awhile stranger, I thought you fell off the edge of the galaxy. Good to see that you’re still kicking.”
I didn’t hear from you for some time.
I got worried, especially with all the rumours of you being grievously injured flying around.
But I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.
Their tentative conversation to feel each other out was interrupted briefly when the supersoldier reacted with preternatural speed and gave the bartender a jump-scare. Lannik let out a graceless snort in a poor attempt of suppressing his laughter, though the gleam in his eyes became warmer and more genuine even as some of the tension leaked out of the line of his shoulders.
The male narrowed his eyes at the ‘shinie’ comment and sniffed haughtily at his companion. “And to think I was going to say I missed your dry wit, jolly giant. Nope, now we’re going to go with the story of me trying to get stinking drunk, then pilfer a fancy souvenir or something to show off to my men.”