Have some EethLock, I’m yeeting it into the void in case anyone else wants something soft:
The sound of his own footsteps echos back at Lock as he makes the familiar trek to his General’s quarters. He consciously controls his breathing the way he does when he spars with the General.
He raises a gloved hand to knock on the door, and startles when it hisses open before his knuckles meet the metal. “Sir?” He calls hesitantly as he steps into the space.
“Come in, Captain,” The Zabrak’s voice is warm, and brightens in amusement as he continues, “have a seat, I’ll be right with you.”
It isn’t like him to make Lock wait long, and as soon as familiar footsteps approach, Lock makes to stand before looking up and freezing at the sight that greets him.
Mirth quirks one of his General’s eyebrows, and he continues the steady task of braiding his hair, naked from the waist up. “What brings you to my quarters, Captain?”
“Not ship’s business, Sir-”
His General cuts him off, “Then I insist that you call me by my name.”
“Eeth.” Lock obliges him, just this once, “I’m not here on ship’s business. It’s not my place to ask…” He trails off, mesmerized by elegant fingers working quickly through long dark hair.
“Would you like to?” His General answers the unasked question, “Would you like to braid my hair?”
Lock immediately stiffens, caught, but he relaxes when Eeth pinches the section he’s working with in one hand and reaches out with the other to take one of Lock’s and guide it to continue the pattern.
“Over and under, then over and under again,” Eeth’s voice reveals how relaxed he is under his Captain’s care, “that’s it, Lock, pulling it right will make it easier to tie up later.”
The rhythm of weaving his General’s hair brings him comfort, and when he looks down he can’t help but smile softly as Eeth half dozes.
