What the kriff do you think you're doing?!

That very thought had echoed through his head since the moment he'd stepped onto this path, accentuating every step with its message of imminent failure. Out of all the scenarios his active imagination had supplied, not a single one of them ended with acceptance (though there was one that came rather close). While the lieutenant often wished that reality would follow in the footsteps of fantasy, his prayers now held a different tone: please, let me be wrong. Most of the time, he could reason with his ambitions and come to a safe consensus- no, he would never be Grand Admiral, but he could make it up to Commander before he died; no, he would never travel the galaxy, but he would try his damnedest to make it off Lothal- but this situation dropped a roadblock in rationalization.

No, his little crush on his commanding admiral wouldn't develop into anything substantial (hells, it wouldn't even be recognized), but he could propose they out on a date- no, he could turn on his charming naivety- no, he could ask him out for caf-

Despite his every ion screaming that this was a bad idea, his drive buckled down on that idea with a ravenous fervor that couldn't be satisfied by anything other than its fulfillment. No matter how ridiculous…. How preposterous… How utterly foolish this endeavor was, the internal conflict waged without impeding the progress of his stride as he made his way to the admiral's office.

Don't be ridiculous. First off, he's your commanding officer! You are under his direct command. This would be highly inappropriate. Secondly, do you even remember the last time you asked someone out? If you've forgotten, allow me to remind you that it didn't end well. Thirdly, what are you going to do if he says no?! That'll make your professional relationship all the more awkward. Fourth-

"Enter!" a familiar voice called from the other side of a door, tearing Lyste from his thoughts harshly. Somehow, he'd managed to mindlessly navigate the corridors and approach the door, his raised hand implying that he'd already made his presence known. A hollow chill coiled in his gut, breath catching in his throat as the gravity of his position finally dawned on him: Unless he could fabricate a report in a moment's notice, there was no turning back.

Blast…

Drawing in a deep breath, Lyste rolled his shoulders back to perfect his imperial posture and spared a moment to regain his composure.

It's not going to happen. Just turn back while he still can't put a face to you. Would all this trouble even be worth it?

He applied faint pressure to the door's controls, the whistle of its opening signaling the sealing of his fate.

Yes. Yes it will.

"Lieutenant Lyste," Konstantine greeted, features lighting up in a welcoming smile that made the younger man's heart stutter lightly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Lyste shuffled further into the office before standing a respectable distance from the desk in parade rest. While he tried his hardest to contain his insecurities, he wouldn't be surprised if a few uncomfortable vibes leaked from his slapdash barriers. At the very least, Konstantine had no way of knowing just how ferociously hard his heart was pounding. He hoped he wasn't sweating…

"Admiral Konstantine. I was wondering… Do you have a moment alone, sir?" he tried, wincing inwardly. So much for the naive charm…

Fortunately, Konstantine simply nodded. "Of course. Is something the matter?"

"No, no! Everything is… Everything is fine," he assured, finding his words harder to pronounce as any remaining moisture evaporated from the cavern. There was still time to make something up… No. He may be a touch out of his league, but he wasn't one to cower in the face of the enemy, who in this case took the form of his own doubts. "I just… You see, there's something… W-Well…"

Lyste's stomach bottomed out as that smile melted into a frown, lips pursed in a touch of concern as Konstantine rose from his place at his desk. Blast… Blast, blast, blast!

"Lieutenant? Are you certain that everything is alright?"

No. This isn't alright. You're an idiot, Lyste! You can't even condemn yourself right. Admiral Konstantine must think you're plain strange now. Turn back while you still can and salvage what little dignity you have left.

Konstantine stepped forward, and Lyste could feel those cool eyes burning into him as he was scrutinized. A large lump swelled in his throat, temporarily choking off his words. How dare confidence escape him at such a crucial moment…

Then again, who needed confidence when one had impulsivity? Time and time again, he'd relied on split-second decisions to author his fate and experienced mixed results as a consequence. If he possessed a more tactical mind, he may have embraced countless promotions- or a stronger warrior's heart to lead to greater command and respect from his peers. He possessed neither of these things, but what he did have, he would use: the willingness to lose for the worth of the trial.

"...I would be highly… honored if you would consider sharing caf with me sometime," he managed, drawing up to his full height with a false sense of conviction as he met that solid, considerate blue gaze. This assertiveness was fueled by his previous determination- running on fumes, but clinging to the hope of survival.

When Konstantine's eyes widened that telltale fraction, however, Lyste felt his hammering heart stop dead in its tracks. Kriff he'd messed up… Yet his throat choked off any retraction or clarification or protest, leaving him standing tall in the implications of his request. Oh, Maker….

Lips pursing slightly, Konstantine cleared his throat, breaking eye contact to give the lieutenant a quick once over- Maker only knows what he's thinking- before suspicion narrowed his gaze.

"Lieutenant," he started, regarding him with a caution that seemed almost familiar to the younger man, "Am I correct in assuming that your proposal is not professional in nature? Are you asking me out on a date, perhaps..?"

Lyste felt nausea swim through his gut, trickling into his veins and making his head spin. How he was able to remain on his feet, he would never be able to explain. Was this a question he was supposed to answer? If so, was there a wrong answer? In this case, is honesty the best policy, or should he save himself the trouble of facing the consequence of this risk?

Oh, blast it.

"Y-Yes, sir. That was my intention," he confessed, hoping his voice wasn't as shaky as his hands were. Despite his efforts to save face, he could tell that his cheeks burned with an entirely different passion that undermined any of his efforts to be composed and suave (hells, that went out the window ages ago). The silence which followed his reply deafened him, his pulse pounding in his ears the only audible source of life. Konstantine's expression never changed from one of bewildered contemplation, only stirring the already toxic anxiety in his gut. Lyste parted his lips to break this self-inflicted tension- to take it back, beg for forgiveness, dismiss himself- but was robbed of the chance when a smile broke through the mask.

"Very well," Konstantine replied, reaching over to rest a hand on Lyste's shoulder and pat it gently. The owner of said shoulder nearly melted on the spot. "We will meet in the break room tomorrow, say, around 1200 hours?"

Lyste blinked, the gears in his head whirring faster than he could comprehend as Konstantine's suggestion struggled to process. Even the negating voices in his head fell silent, rendered obsolete by shocked acceptance. Eventually, he managed a nod, an enthusiastic smile slowly bleeding through his confusion. "1200 hours, then. Yes."

"I'll be looking forward to it." His hand dropped from Lyste's shoulder, prompting him to silently mourn the loss of contact. Though attempting to revert back to professional regard, Lyste, much to his delight, couldn't help but notice a certain new lightness in his expression. Could it be that Konstantine was equally as pleased about this fresh arrangement as he was? The idea, no matter if it rang true or not, made his stomach flutter pleasantly.

"Will that be all?"

"Ah… Yes. Yes, that is all," Lyste stated, trying (and failing) to wipe that stupid grin off of his face. He hoped it endeared him more than repelled him… With a wave of a hand and a hasty exchange of dismissals, Lyste found himself in the corridors of a ship whose walls once taunted him. Now, however, they were silent as he strode away, basking in his victory and feeling more like an excitable cadet than was warranted. Despite what his original demons declared, Lyste knew better than to believe them.

He did it, and, should things go well, he would do it again. And again. And again. For once, his risks paid off, and he'd never enjoyed a consequence quite as much as this. Smiling, he returned to his station to finish his shift, an extra skip in his step making him bounce the entire way.