After the debrief was over, Kira and Tember managed to coerce everyone into having a few drinks at the cantina. Someone got the bartender to bust out her secret stash, and glasses both alcoholic and otherwise were generously passed around. Everyone was laughing and talking freely; they all felt somehow lighter, like gravity itself had loosened its grip.

The four Republic heroes had been crammed together to receive a toast from their teams and colleagues: the smuggler and Jedi sisters; the trooper, always keeping the consular within reach; and the Knight, Erianthe, her smile serene below her mask. Risha and Kira spoke up for their crews, drawing laughter and hoots from the crowd. Jorgan said something a little more stern, but no less approving. Already drunk, Tharan began a long-winded soliloquy but was stopped short by Zenith and Iresso who pushed him, protesting raucously, into a booth. Prelsiava picked up where he left off, boosting her small frame onto a table for height.

"You've all made it a safer galaxy," the Mirialan said with a broad grin. "Except maybe Aitahea, who still isn't allowed to fly." The aforementioned Jedi flushed and covered her face with her hands while the crowd howled and whooped.

Sia quieted, looking over the crowd. "We know it isn't over. Not by a long shot. But this-" she opened her arms, bottles and glasses rising as she did, "this is what we fight for. Each other. To the heroes! To the Republic!" A wild cheer went up as Prelsiava hopped down off her perch. Tember put an arm around her friend and launched into an off-key star shanty.

Erithon and Aitahea, hands clasped, shared a long look before stealing quietly away from the crowd. Their departure was noticed by only a few of the guests, but Kira nudged Scourge, jerking her chin towards Erianthe, who seemed distracted by the lovers strolling away from the cantina.

The Sith snorted derisively and loomed behind Erianthe, eyes following as the laughing couple turned the last corner and disappeared from view. "Even the Barsen'thor is tempted away from your Code."

Erianthe's lips tightened into a line. "Individual Jedi are entitled to their own choices. Master Aitahea knows the risks."

"You disapprove."

The Knight rolled her shoulders, deliberately relaxing her rigid posture. "They have no need of my approval."

Scourge smirked, leaning close over Erianthe's shoulder, lips close to her ear before he spoke. "Who's approval is it that you need, then?"

Inhaling sharply, the Jedi turned to give a biting retort and nearly bounced off Scourge's armored chest. Erianthe, her usual poise having vanished, wobbled treacherously until Scourge steadied her with a hand under one elbow.

She drew away promptly, mouth twisted in a dismayed frown. "I'm… I'm going back to the ship. Alone," she added severely. "Kira, please take care of the rest of our crew."

Kira looked vaguely guilty and wholly exasperated. "Of course, Master." She gave Scourge a glare as she passed by him to briefly embrace Erianthe. "Get some rest."

Kira waited until Erianthe was out of sight before reaching up to smack Scourge in the back of the head. The Sith glared down at her and growled, "I've killed others for less, girl."

"What the hell? I wanted you to tease her, make her laugh, not piss her off!" Kira dragged a hand down her face. "What, Emperor take your sense of humor along with the rest?"

"You know nothing."

Kira threw her hands into the air and turned back toward the bar. "I need a drink." She caught a glimpse of Corso Riggs and tilted her head. "And maybe a dance with that smuggler boy."

Scourge rumbled noncommittally. "At least one of us will enjoy tonight."

"Whatever. Don't pout all night."