Disclaimer:
I do not own Star Wars and I don't earn any money with this piece of fiction. I write it for entertainment purpose only.
The hall was filled with personal, mostly clones, who came from their downtime in the sparring field, seeing as they didn't have much else to do.
There were grey steel walls, grey steel floors, grey uniform durasteel wherever you looked, so the bright coloured dresses skipping, flowing, jumping down the stairs turned heads.
The clones stood still as three teenagers twirled through the room, already getting ready for the club, not going to return until the twilight hour, when they would then sleep the day away.
Hardcase stared, at first not recognizing the unblemished, glowing, bronze skin in the tight blue neckholder shirt, only hinting in the front, but showing off flexing muscles in the back, the cloth almost dipping to her waist.
"Something the matter?" Chris gave him an over-the-shoulder-look, normally pulled up straight hair framing her face in soft curves, encircling dark brown eyes, enlarged by black cayal and hues of red-orange.
"No, Ma'am. You look…" The clone paused, searching for words. "Good…tonight", ending with words that sounded inexplicably too vain as an explanation of what he and his brothers admired. No woman had ever been dressed up like this inside their compound, or when there was, like that beautiful intervier last cycle, they weren't allowed to look, savor the view.
"Thank you!" Chris twirled forward, skirt flowing outward, and enveloped him in a quick hug, just brushing a kiss on his cheek, the sweet smell of her perfume floating around him. "That's such a nice thing for you to say."
And with that she was already on the move again. Warm embrace sliding from his shoulders.
"Come on girls!" An impatient honk sounded outside, calling them for adventures of the night where the clones couldn't follow them. It left Hardcase inside, the smell of Chris' powder still lingering, skin tingling where she had pressed a chaste, small, unthinking kiss to his cheek. The hall left unexplainably dark, empty, dab without the three girls, which were, a mere heartbeat ago, already moving to the music on the dancefloor.
The mongrels, as clones called normal birthed humans, had meanwhile moved on, barely taking notice of the involuntary show. For them it was everyday business, young people on their way out in the night on a Friday evening, greeting the weekend on the various dancefloors of Coruscant, while the Clones stayed behind them, heard the gate of the barrack close with a somewhat final tone.
While the city welcomed them day and night as protectors, they would never allow them in their ranks of civilian life.
Never would one of them flirt with their girl during lunch break, never would one of them nervously wait for a young woman, dressed up just for them.
Eyes had followed them through the doors of their rooms, down the corridor, watched them sign out, spied on Chris hugging Hardcase in thanks for the compliment, and had felt that pang of jealousy in their hearts as the gate closed, denying them the right to follow the girls into the velvet blue night, denying them the right to experience the few careless hours instead of just listening to the description the next day.
And even then would details be left out, hidden behind giggling and blushing.
Not intentionally, just out of a lack of understanding that the young men, aged unnaturally, hardened too quickly by war, wished to experience what they defended.
And although now these men's eyes followed them full of bitter jealousy, tomorrow they would be greeted with questions about the night, mugs of caf ready for them when they came into the mess hall with whispers of makeup still clinging to their skin, the clones full of questions about the night.
Although Hardcase would ponder how long the feeling of that one, quick, friendly kiss would last, he would greet them tomorrow with the same curt, friendly nod he greeted them with every morning.
They would be greeted with the same awareness as every morning, because they brought the smell of perfume with them. Because of the unexplainable delicateness of their bodies, which were so different from the ones of the clones, that it sometimes seemed that one false move could break them.
They would be asked to sit with them, because they smiled smiles, which were so brilliant, so untouched by the battlefield, they would be asked to talk with them, because, even although the girls didn't take them to the secrets of their lives, they brought their lives with them into the barracks.
The clones would still welcome them into their lives, as the girls shared the secrets of the outside world with them, vids, sweets, stories, as the girls, Chris, Elisabeth and Jasmin, thoughtfull, brash observant, managed to show them what they were protecting without taking them.
They would be welcome, as their presence, although bittersweet at times, made the darkness of the night seem lighter, as they were there to chase memories of a lifetime of war away, sometimes just being there, offering their presence and warm caf, closeness, not quiet touch yet, just sitting next to them. Sometimes chattering the memories away, filling the room with their everyday life, this show, that music star.
And sometimes filling the night with thoughts of what they would have to tell the next day.