Hera watched the silver crescent of the half-submerged spoon pull through the surface of the caf, splitting the white lines of creamer into the inky blackness and bringing the mixture into an even, brown tone. Taking a sip from the sweetened mixture, she turned towards the sound of footsteps coming from the crew bunks. Kanan appeared in the light of the common room. Though not a morning person, he looked more disheveled than normal, clothes wrinkled and eyes bloodshot from a restless night.
"Good morning," Hera hummed. Kanan shuffled past her, towards the galley.
"'Morning." His flat reply came without a glance or gesture; clearly it was anything but. Pulling a mug from the sink, he silently poured himself a cup of caf and walked back to his quarters, giving a silent grunt of acknowledgement to someone in the hall. Sabine entered the room, looking over her shoulder.
"What's with him?" Hera set her mug on the table, gesturing towards the calendar pinned to the bulkhead. Sabine moved closer to find the date, face falling with understanding. Empire Day had come again.
"Explains why Ezra hasn't woken up yet." Like so many other things that linked the Jedi to his protégé, the Empire's self-declared holiday served as an annual reminder of the tragedies that had befallen both Kanan and Ezra in their youth. Zeb ambled into the room, taking a seat next to Hera.
"I might have an idea of how to make this day a little better," the Lasat declared. Hera and Sabine both turned, eyebrows raised. Zeb pulled a small list from his pocket, offering it to the two. "I'll need you to fetch some supplies. I'm going to need some time to set up the galley."
The Phantom bounced gently as Kanan set the craft into its docking slot. Ezra wiped sweat from his brow; neither had been in the mindset to meditate that morning, but Hera had insisted on them going out to at least get a workout in. As the airlock opened to the hall of the Ghost, the smell of baking bread and roasting meat wafted into the small craft, significantly more appealing than the smell of rehydrated rations. Mouths watering, the two Jedi began to walk down the hall, only to find the door blocked by a grinning Mandalorian.
"Uh-uh. Showers first." Ezra had the mind to complain, but Sabine's excited demeanor put pause to his words. Minutes later, Kanan and Ezra emerged from their quarters in fresh clothes, entering the softly lit common room. In the center, a portable table had been erected and adorned with a white tablecloth. Each crew member's mess kit had been laid out around the table, and long-stemmed disposable glasses were placed at each setting. The galley door whisked open, and Hera and Sabine emerged carrying trays of food.
"Zeb's almost ready, let's get seated," Hera beamed to the bewildered Jedi. Placing the trays on the table, Hera took a seat on one side of the table, gesturing for Kanan to join beside her. Ezra sat opposite of them, and after depositing more food on the table, Sabine joined him.
"What is this?" Kanan began.
"We decided to observe our own holiday," Sabine declared, a warm smile adorning her face.
The galley door slid open, and Zeb entered the room carrying a golden-roasted protein on a platter.
"Need a knife?" Sabine joked, exaggerating her reach for the blade she kept sheathed in her boot. Hera raised an eyebrow, as Zeb chuckled.
"I came prepared," he said as he produced a large knife from behind the bird, carving thin slices onto each member's plate. Ezra's wide eyes betrayed his amazement as the crew set about loading their plates. Breads, starches, and vegetables filled his plate, and he hungrily plunged his fork into the meal.
"Not yet Ezra, wait for the toast" Hera chided. Ezra set the fork down with an embarrassed grin as Kanan and Sabine laughed. Zeb uncorked a bottle, the sweet aroma of sparkling meiloorun cider filling the air as he filled the glasses on the table. Raising their glasses, Zeb cleared his throat, his eyes shining warmly. He looked to Ezra and Kanan, letting their smiles grow his own.
"Some ships are wood ships, and those ships may sink.
Some ships are hardships, and of those we won't think.
But the best ships are friendships, and to those ships, we drink."
Happy Thanksgiving!
JA