Coming too, Mykle hangover made its presence admittedly known. Throbbing against his skull, shaking like jello. There she was, standing stoically. Curiously, there wasn't an expression on Mykle's face to greet her.
"I thought this might help." She hands him a cup of ginger tea. Tea. Such a cliché misconception that all Jedi drank it. Mykle despised its sour taste. "I know it's not your favorite but it'll-"
"Thanks." Mykle says coldly. His head still pounding, the nausea was making its presence known as well. A silence came over them.
"I just wanted to tell you that..." she searched for the words to convey the emotions she explicitly was told not to express, finding in her mental rolodex no such verbiage. "The rebellion is grateful for your assistance." Mykle gave her a tired smile.
"Thanks for the tea." He places the liquid down, gets up to leave without as much as a glance towards her.
"Mykle-" She says in an effort to make him stay.
"Don't call me that here." He tells her. "Call me Moe." She smirks.
"Is that what you go by now?"
"Ever since Order 66, Yeah." He turns to leave again, but her words kept him tied to where he stood. Finally breaking free of her grasp, only to have her follow, under her cowl.
"What you've been up too?" Ahsoka asks casually.
"Nothing much." Mykle pats his vest looking for his packet of deathsticks. He looks to see Ahsoka holding the packet, staring at him cockily. "Even now." He scorns, yet laughs a little. "You shouldn't be following me."
"I don't see why not, I have the time." She lies.
"Don't you have a rebellion to lead?" He asks sarcastically.
"Oh, you know?" She was genuinely surprised. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the galaxy?" She sounded quite scornful in her retort, a little angry. Which irked Mykle. What right does she have to feel such a way. He just wanted to get away from her.
"Alright, since you're tagging along I have something I want to give you." She followed him back to the ashes of his father's home, rummaging through the tatters trying hard not to inhale the dangerous fumes. Picking up a steel box, blowing off the black and grey ashes before handing it to Ahsoka casually. "Open it." Was all he said, hoping to instill some uneasiness in her just for giggles.
"My lightsaber." Her blue eyes widen in apparent amazement. After an interim of silence, Mykle spoke.
"I can't believe they're all gone."
"Who?" She asks.
"Everyone." He sighs. "Everyone I ever held near and dear, there's nothing left for me. You don't understand, the Jedi forbade attachments."
That comment hurt Ahsoka. "I'm not apathetic towards your suffering." She said truthfully, but Mykle wasn't convinced. "We at the rebellion are grateful for your help." This raised Mykle's curiosity.
"What?"
"Bail Organa can't tell you how happy he is you saved his daughter." Being out of the loop, Mykle didn't care enough to ask Ahsoka to fill in the blanks and just nodded. "Do you want-"
"No." He knew what she was going to ask. "I'm done. I've been done." He repeated, the hurt in his eyes communicated to Ahsoka that he truly meant what he said. From early on in their relationship, Mykle was on her level of idealism, an admiration for adventure. Of course, the years have matured her as it did many. But for Mykle, from where she stood, Ahsoka saw that time sucked the color from his skin, adding wrinkles around his eyes. It outright startled her.
"We've saved an awful lot of people from the raids." Ahsoka tells him. "Maybe..."
"I can't do that." He begged her not to feed him false hope. "I... just need to leave."