“This is a horrible plan, my Lord. I see numerous flaws,” the Captain said stiffly.
“I quite obviously have my lightsabers on my belt, Captain,” replied Ald.
“Yes, but people look at clothing first, not weaponry. It’s a mistake that has cost a great many lives on both sides of the coin. I beg you to reconsider.”
Ald simply chuckled and shook his head at the Captain. He had managed to convince the stiff man to switch outfits for the day as they were very nearly the same build. Ald had checked his bum in the mirror and was quite satisfied with how the Imperial uniform perked his bum just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to drive a wedge between the cheeks. He hated cinched unders.
The Captain, with the uniformed Ald in tow, made his way to the Nexus Room Cantina for what would likely prove to be a trying evening at best. As soon as they walked through the door, Quinn put the hood on the robes he had borrowed up. He really did not want to be recorded posing as a Sith Lord. It would get dicey. Well, he would get diced. With lightsabers. He shuddered faintly at the thought. Ald, on the other hand, reveled in the attention he was receiving. It was rare for a Force-blind Pureblood to live in the Empire, let alone rise to the station of Captain in the Imperial Navy. Those taking a closer look noticed his lightsabers right away. Those in-tune with the Force noticed his strength in it before he stepped into the room. The various stages of horror, interest, and boredom on the faces of those staring at the pair made Ald slightly giddy. Ald’s face broke into a silly grin as he stepped further into the Cantina and straight to an empty table. Murmurings of impropriety followed in their wake, but Ald paid them no mind and Quinn was too busy being uncomfortable in a crowded room to notice.
“I am not a social creature,” the Captain said stiffly as he sat down.
“I can tell. You need to get out more. Live a little,” Ald said with a lopsided grin.
“I live plenty, my Lo – Ald.”
Ald’s grin turned to pure teeth. “You learn fast.”
“You don’t survive in the Empire by being a dunce. Stupidity serves no other purpose than to weed out the weak.”
“You’re so Imperial,” Ald chuckled.
Quinn arched a brow he was sure went unseen due to him hiding his face as best he could under the hood.
“I have no response other than to state the obvious, Ald,” Quinn said stiffly. “And I damn sure don’t like calling you by your nickname. One I’m entirely sure you made up just to upset me.”
“No,” Ald laughed quietly, “I’ve had this nickname for a number of years.”
Their conversation was interrupted by an awfully hands on woman. Her boldness in pinching the bum of the Captain turned Sith signaled her reliance in her charm and her handle on the Force. Quinn turned an even paler shade of pale.
“Hello, my Lord,” the woman purred.
“Hello,” Quinn murmured uncomfortably.
“Not a big talker?”
“Lord Praecursator prefers action over words,” Ald supplied helpfully.
“Quiet, Imperial,” the woman snapped.
Ald frowned. The woman wasn’t hard on the eyes: tall, well dressed, brunette, green eyes, fair skin. But it was obvious to any Force sensitive that she was no Sith Lord.
“Don’t be rude,” Quinn admonished smoothly. “You never know just who you are insulting.”
“He’s an officer, it doesn’t matter,” the woman said off-handedly.
Quinn bristled then rose from his seat and stared down his nose at the woman.
“Never insult the Imperials who serve. They do so out of a sense of duty to the Empire,” he hissed. “And never forget that a Sith can be killed by a mere Imperial. It may save your pitiful life someday.”
His point made, he brushed past her and strode for the exit. Ald strangled back a laugh, waved to the confused woman, and ran after the quickly moving Quinn. When Ald finally caught up to Quinn, he grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.
“That was amazing!” Ald said with a grin.
“Yes,” Quinn murmured quietly, “it truly was.”
“We’re doing this again next week.”
“As you wish, Ald,” Quinn said with a small grin and a polite bow.