Wisps of smoke rise from the space between his fingers, a dull orange glow quivering against his inhale. She invites his demons to play with her presence, resting in the doorway. Her nonchalant posture is no match for the worry in her eyes, which betray her true demeanour.
“Why are you here?”
Her gaze darts away, her face following. “Why do you think?”
“Realisation?”
“Of sorts.” Her brow furrows.
“If you don’t want another knife to your throat…you’ll tell me…In plain words.” He crushes the cigarette between his thumb and index, and although the empty glasses beside him allude to some measure of intoxication, his eyes seem alert. Lo’reshu doesn’t doubt his claim.
“My father. He’s dead.”
“And?”
“And I know why.”
He scoffs, pouring another glass for himself, which he downs greedily.
send 📱 for five texts my muse didn’t send yours, and one that they did.
The stench of alcohol on his lips, staining his breath. Hemoves the side of the bed, slumping. The bottle slips from his fingers, thelast of the brew spilling onto the carpet. His head is buried in his palms, hiseyes swollen, dark circles beneath them. There is scarcely a glowin the room save the red of his eyes, which illuminate the bedside.
He lurches towards the low table, pushing down bile as hisstomach jumps. His fingers fiddle over the holocommunicator, missing buttons.He throws it against the wall in frustration. It lies there.
An hour passes. He is still slurring, unintelligible mumbling.He stumbles, but avoids slamming into the wall, picking up the device as hisbalance threatens to give out. He slides down the wall, sinking into thecorner. He finds no comfort in this place.
1:34AM; Dromund Kaas ST.WHERE RAE YOU>DELETE
1:48AM; Dromund Kaas ST.
TELLME WHAT HAPPENED>…DELETE
His stomach rebels again, he feels the sting of vomit on histhroat. He hunches over, sparing the holocommunicator from his mess by castingit aside. He splutters, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth.
He resumes his position, half-lidded eyes glued once again to the device.
1:57AM; Dromund Kaas ST.
THEY WERE LYINNG LIKE THEY ALWAYS DO>DELETE
Even in his compromised state, it did not take an intellect to realise that her frequency had likely already been repossessed by Intelligence. Exhaustion grips him. His eyes droop, although he forces them awake again for some time. His gaze remains still, red twinkling beneath his lids.
4:24AM; Dromund Kaas ST.
MUST YOU REALLY KEEP ME IN THE DARK ABOUT THIS? I HAVE ALWAYS EXTENDED THE SAME COURTESY TO YOU. NO SECRETS BAR THE NECESSARY ONES. YOU CAN’T REALLY EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT YOU’RE DEAD.>DELETE
5:20AM; Dromund Kaas ST.
DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME>DELETE
Resignation hits its peak at the glint of a purple sunrisepeeks beneath his apartment blinds. The smell has worsened. He shudders at theweight of the stench, wrinkling his nose. He forces himself to stand, jointscracking and worn from remaining so still.
His uniform remains neatly foldedand pressed on a stand adjacent to the bed. He eyes it, but moves past, optingfor a plain set of tight-fitting pants and jacket; accompanied by a headset.Nothing but his eyes remain uncovered, which is quickly remedied by shades;dark enough to mask his eyes. He leaves the imperial-issued rifle in itscasing, instead slipping a handgun into the holster gripping his lower leg,digging a shiv in the tight space between his boot and his sock.
He leaves the communicator flashing on the bedside, a steadybeep left in his wake.
