"It's not a question of 'if', is it? It's a question of 'when'."

Rochester looked up from his work and over to Broan.

"I'm sorry?"

"When are you going to betray me?"

"What... what makes you think I'd do that?"

Broan sighed and looked around the room, his gaze falling on everything but his lover.

"Everything I knew of Imperials when I lived in the Republic, and what you said when we first met. We had a book, a couple of years ago, a tragic romance. A woman fell in love with a lone Imperial soldier who had wandered into her town, wounded and dying. They lived together for years, got married, talked about having a family," Broan fiddled with his hands, rubbing one palm and then the other. "And then one day, she had a knife slipped into her back and the soldier was gone: the Empire had come back, to take the planet. Everyone loved it, of course."

"We had the same book," Broan looked at him then, a look of surprise and sadness on his face. "It said everything people needed to know. The author was an Imperial, you know."

"I... what did the public say?"

"In public? Nothing. But on the holonet you could see everything, plain as day. Some were gladdened by it, others felt it epitomised everything that was wrong with Imperial society."

"And what did you think?"

"I never read the book," Rochester stood up, walking over to take Broan's hands in his own. He knelt between Broan's legs and sighed. "It is not something I can see myself doing, however."

"You won't betray me then?"

"I don't want to."

"This is what it's like to live in Imperial society, isn't it? I don't know if I can do it," Rochester reached out and cupped Broan's face, pulling him down into a kiss. "I don't know if I can live with the thought that you might..."

"Never."