Thrawn's mouth was downturned in a harsh frown. Of course, it was rare for the admiral to appear happy (or anything other than neutral or mildly annoyed, if Pellaeon were being honest) but right now he looked like he was only a few muscle movements away from a full on sneer.
That level of outward emotion from Thrawn wasn't simply rare – it never happened. Whatever he was looking at on his datapad must have been some pretty bad news. Given how annoyed he looked, it was probably due to someone's incompetence. All could be forgiven right up until someone who should have known better made an ignorant mistake. Or was it an error? Ah, whatever. That didn't matter.
What mattered was that Thrawn looked – quite frankly – peeved as all hell, and if that attitude left the command chamber then someone was going to pay for it later.
"Sir," Pellaeon said to grab the man's attention. When Thrawn glanced away from the pad and toward him, Pellaeon stepped up to his command chair to stand next to him.
He received an arched eyebrow in question but he didn't bother to try and explain himself. He simply leaned downwards and pressed their lips together. It was quick, chaste, little more than a peck, but it was enough that when Pellaeon pulled back Thrawn stared at him with an expression of bemusement.
"Don't look so down. Whatever it is, you can fix it."
Thrawn's features smoothed out somewhat at that, and the ghost of a smile passed across his lips. Then it was gone, but the frown didn't replace it and Pellaeon supposed that it would just have to do. At the very least, he had probably just saved some poor ensign's life with that kiss. You're welcome, stupid ensign.