A few bells chimed as the door opened and Ord entered the flower shop not too far from the museum. Most of the customers inside didn't seem bothered by the explosion of some plasma mortars from the nearby museum range; apparently the others were still having their fun. A fact of life for them but there were many PAK'd customers within. The young man, in more casual street attire but sporting a shirt with the insignia of the Republic Elites, looked around before making his way to the counter where there was a Vortian woman working on some floral arrangements.

"Ma'am, sorry to interrupt but I'm hoping you can help me. I'm looking for someone."

"Oh? Who would that be?"

"General Saro," Ord answered. "I saw the name Saro as an owner of this shop but I don't know if he's the Saro or someone who happens to share the name."

Her ashen gray, flawless features gave a pursed expression with the faintest furrow of her brow over the deepest orange eyes. Horns black, polished, and curvaciously sweeping back, she turned to face the young man, wiping her hands on the apron of her attires.

"Well, that is awfully presumptuous of you. Saro is a rather common Irken name. Even I know that." She made light with a small laugh. "Is there something else I can assist you with?"

Ord sighed, seeming dejected that maybe this was a dead end. "Really? I figured with him being the Terror of Vort and all that the name would've lost a lot of popularity. I never met a single classmate of mine or anyone in training named Saro."

Clearly growing more uncomfortable with the topic of discussion, she maintained her composure with a smoothing of the front of her dress out before folding her hands.

"Young man, this is a flower shop. Not a library. I can help you with flowers, not…whatever this is."

"It's…complicated. I'm the kid of High Marshal Skrem. If this really is the same Saro I really just want to ask him some questions."

"Whatever questions you have for him, you may ask me." She insisted with a smile. "You are here to buy a floral arrangement, are you not?"

Ord sighed, "Actually I'm here to ask him questions pertaining to his career under General Vaukt."

"What part of "no means no" did you not pick up on, sprout?" A gravely, male voice grunted from behind Ord.

"Saro-"

The man in the flesh. Were it not for his visible scars or cybernetic eye, he barely passed for a soldier. Filthy overalls, rolled-up sleeves of a button-down, wide-brimmed hat, and florists gloves with a trowel in hand.

"It's fine, Aora." He assured in a gentle tone, looking back to the younger, un-PAK'd male. "...clearly the boy thinks he's a Tallest an' won't take "no" for an answer."

"Did Aero decking you on the Vindictive really do a number on you, General-"

Saro snapped the sharp, handheld shovel at Ord with a glare.

"Do not call me that…an' mind your tongue before I cut it out."

Aora, knowing full and well what was taking place, merely sighed as she moved to place the closed sign on the front door.

Ord paused, "I…just didn't picture you in a place like this, not after what I've been hearing about what happened in the war. Never expected someone who gutted an IIA warden to…own a flower shop."

Saro didn't immediately respond. Partially because Aora hadn't secured the front door yet, but also a careful selection of words to follow. His cybernetic implant tracked with his organic eye thoughtfully.

"That beast's been locked away for a long time. Time for it came an' went. No need for it these days and living with it ain't an option. It stays where it belongs."

Aora moved past Ord to Saro, standing on her tiptoes to give the man a…kiss on the cheek.

"You want me to put a kettle of tea on for you?"

He smiled at her affections.

"Please."

"Will your…guest be joining us?"

"If he allows it and doesn't mind my questions about the past." Ord began, "Corr's been telling us everything recently and he's becoming an increasingly large part of it."

"Ain't like I got much of a damn choice…." He grumbled, muttering about sharing Skrem's obstinance with a toss of his hands in the air. "Back this way…an' don't touch anything."

Ord followed Saro into the back room, taking a seat at a back table when it was offered to him. "First, I wonder, why is it you don't like being addressed by your rank? From what I heard with the story so far, you were…rather proud of earning your place after Vult and Corr helped you initially on Vort before Grimm could…you know."

Saro, settling into the chair opposite of Ord, took his fraying hat off to hang on the nearby hook and remove his gloves to put in the front pocket of his overalls. The vortian woman busied herself at the adjacent sink, preparing a kettle to boil on the nearby stove in the half-kitchen, half-breakroom.

"Rank doesn't matter after retirement in the civilian world. What would I be General of? My greenhouse?" He facetiously returned. "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Including or excluding finding out that everyone's been keeping a massive secret from you ever since you were a smeet?" Ord asked and then paused, "...Ironically something I have in common with you. Other than that…I got shot down for being First Loser just like my old man. Minutes ago. I don't get it, I was just stating my record and what happened. My unit succeeded but everyone else got their asses handed to them by the VDF."

Saro heartily laughed at the young man's plight.

"...boy, ain't nothin' bad ever happened to you. Don't even know the meaning of the word."

"I mean compared to you…" Ord paused and shook his head, "Your reputation is definitely something considering what Rub did to you and then IIA." Another pause as he looked to the man's apparent mate, "The story hasn't progressed that far yet, I was recently told about Kiara yelling about how Vaukt promoting you to Lieutenant General would scupper support from the Federation after Aero sent you to the infirmary with your teeth knocked out."

The grizzled veteran settled for a stern glare as Aora returned to the table to set cups in preparation for the brewing tea.

"See that tact isn't one of his strong suits." She commented in passing.

"No. No it is not." Saro concurred, taking a deep breath before gingerly folding his calloused digits. Calm. Centered. Resolute. "...you're dancing on a whole bundle of raw nerves, boy. Why are you here an' what do you want? I got a business to run and you're making it really hard to not want to stomp a hole in your spooch."

"I actually want to know if you can fill in some of the gaps with your own experiences." Ord started his answer unfazed by Saro's seeming threat, "I mean, I know Vaukt left you on Haven to train the freighter crews that were there. I'm interested in hearing if anything interesting happened."

"Yeah? What have you done to earn that right? What the others do is their prerogative. You barge in here, openly talkin' about things you shouldn't be, and expect me to entertain you? Figured Rem would've raised you better than that. Must be your old man's doin' to come off as an entitled little prick."

"Saro." Aora gently, but assertively intervened as she returned with the fresh kettle to pour their cups.

"What? I'm right!"

"Perhaps, but there's a more…eloquent way of putting it." She reasoned, moving to pour Ord's tea. "...and you need to learn a little patience and humility. You ask questions, expecting them to be entertained while not listening to what is being said. The man you seek is no more, not as he was, and I will be damned if you are going to barge in here and drag that out of him for your own amusement."

Ord blinked, "I mean…out of all the things I heard of him so far, owning a flower shop was the absolute last thing I expected. We're not through the whole story and…" Ord gestured around him to the various tools and unfinished floral arrangements and wreaths. "I guess I was expecting the man I heard about from decades ago and I don't even know if Corr hit the halfway point of this whole recollection yet."

The orange-eyed Vortian woman took her seat adjacent to Saro without another word. She said her piece and made it known what would and would not be tolerated. A consoling hand reached over, affectionately grasping the Irken's with a squeeze.

The young man sighed and looked at Saro, "If you don't want to talk, it's fine. I don't know if I can find Rha or somebody else who was there."

A weary sigh came from the veteran in response, a complex, contemplative mask as he looked nowhere in particular to the room off to Ord's left. His unoccupied hand rose to gesture around them.

"...my plants don't judge me. Don't ostracize me. Don't look upon me with shame and disgust. They bring me peace and solitude, tenderly sowing life and caretaking as opposed to destruction and taking it away. Clearly Corr and whoever else has told you enough. You already know why I prefer the company of these blooms. A lot of us had much to think about after it was all said and done. Some of us more than others. I was one of them. My actions. My choices. My decisions. All of the hatred and vitriol from former enemy and ally alike is well-deserved for what I did and the cruelty inflicted by my hands and orders."

His attention drifted back to Ord's gaze, the forlorn expression of a tired, old man looking back at him.

"Could you live with yourself doing the things I done under the guise of fanatical loyalty and service to your superiors?"

There was clearly more to the man, his thoughts hearing more of him as time went on was proving true. What he originally thought was this cruel monster was different, changed, the progression from the sinister Captain who kicked Aero in the spooch and caused Vult to cut a bloody swath through innocent civilians to a competent General to, apparently, a now quiet florist. How the winds of time change many things.

Ord closed his eyes, shaking his head. "From what I first heard of you, I'd probably wish for death, but, I then got to hear more about you. Vult and Corr helping you keep your head, your developments serving with Zha and Vaukt, that fire of defiance against those you once devoted that fanatical loyalty to. Now I see this? There's much more to you than the initial impression we got of you…and even if it's something unexpected on my end, it's good you found something to bring you some solace after everything. You've changed, in a good way, from what I heard so far and even now."

"Yeah, well, you're in the minority on that one." Saro huffed, taking up his cup of hot tea for a sip. "I could've single-handedly toppled the Empire and still be the second-most hated Irken of all time behind Grimm and barely beating out the two nitwits before him."

"I don't hate you." Aora wistfully mused at him.

"I'd hope not otherwise all of this would be really awkward." He played along in bemusement. "I wouldn't have the prettiest flower in the shop on display at the front register for the whole universe to admire."

His sappy compliments earned him a playful shove and small giggle of embarrassment from Aora.

"Stooop…"

"Never." Saro grinned. "I scare the customers off, I need a pretty face up there."

"Is that all I am to you? A pretty face?" The Vortian woman arched a playful brow.

"Not just a pretty face. The best thing to ever happen to me."

Aora sighed, guiltily indulging in every sweet-nothing he uttered to her as she turned her attention back to Ord with a shake of her head.

"Don't let him lie to you. I'm the one keeping this ship spaceworthy here. Less opportunity for the locals to spread the word of you-know-who owning this place if all they see is me."

"I have to admit that this is rather unexpected…I never expected Saro with a Vortian woman." Ord started, "Then again, I guess I'm hearing the more intimate side of things given who I'm talking to, the inner workings and history left out."

"Oh, wow, I've never heard that one before…" Saro muttered sarcastically, earning himself an elbow from Aora. "What was that for?"

"Be nice. All he's heard is the worst parts of you up until now. Can you fault him?"

"Yes."

Aora rolled her eyes, looking to Ord. "Believe it or not, he's a hopeless romantic. Smitten with me since the first time he laid eyes on me."

"Don't give away all my secrets now. I can't be dark and mysterious without them."

"Uh-huh. The only thing dark and mysterious about you is your grubby hands after playing in the potting soil." She teased in good humor. "...I'd only heard of this evil, evil man by reputation and had to know for myself just how evil he was. The only thing I felt threatened of was being swept off my feet."

"You did meet me after all of that."

"The past only affects the present if you allow it to as we can change the future." Aora countered thoughtfully, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at him with a smile. "...I still remember how embarrassed and paranoid you were to be seen with me."

"I wasn't paranoid or embarrassed." Saro defended with a huff. "Imagine what being seen with me would have done to your reputation among your people."

"Nuts to them. The only people I care about is this one." She concluded with emphasis, plucking at his overalls with a grin before leaning over to give him a brief kiss.

"Not in front of the child."

"Saro, a romantic? Sounds like my mom," Ord chuckled. "What with my dad treating her to a candlelit dinner for their first date, cooking her a steak dinner all by himself. Redeemed his first meatheaded attempt to woo her by his accomplishments." He paused and shook his head, "Also apparently how he and Radec ended up not-boyfriends to quote Radec's daughter. He nearly ruined the date before it even started."

"First place loser's right then." Saro summarized in reflection. "All the experience in the universe on what not to do…an' you did it anyway. Just like barging into my place of business demanding to speak to a man who wants to be left alone about things he never wants to speak of again."

"Yet…you're here, hiding in plain sight." Ord seemed confused, he hadn't even touched his tea yet. "You didn't fuck off to the middle of nowhere like a certain sniper did in some mountain range on Vort. I know you said working with these plants brought you joy but why the decision to stay on Irk when you could've gone…a lot of places? Wasn't someone bound to recognize you sooner or later?" Another pause followed, brief, "Irk is…a bit high profile of a place to lay low with your reputation if you wanted to be left alone, just my guess."

"It isn't about hiding. Not directly, anyway. You didn't know a lick 'bout Corr until he told you, did you? Same principle. Be unassuming. Attract no attention. Blend in with the crowd and don't stand out." Saro explained, surprised he needed to break it down to the simplest terms for his impromptu guest.

A sampling of tea followed while Aora idly stirred her cup, listening.

"...as to why I chose Irk…it's home. The Irken homeworld. Where we belong and should remain. As you can see, my authoritative ways made it clear to Aora this is where she was living the rest of her life."

"I'm the one that recommended it. We could live in a cardboard box in a bathroom on Foodcourtia for all I care. So long as I'm with you, we'll make it home."

"And here I am struck with the desire to do what my dad did instead of staying here…" Ord spoke and then went quiet, thinking to himself: the desire to go out and do things, the familiarity of Irk growing stale, to follow in the revealed footsteps of his father instead of sticking with the Honor Guard. His gaze turned away, down to the table. Was he really so different from those who came before?

"Starting to wonder what that makes me. You're not…dimwitted like Tweedledee and Tweedledumb, you're smart, have your history, and you buried your past. I'm trying to forge my future in a similar path to my dad and…did anyone even like Invaders? Wondering if I'm just not liked in general or if it's because of that I'm trying to emulate."

"Far as I could tell, only Invaders liked Invaders. Some of them were tolerable but they liked the smell of their own farts far too much." Saro sourly summarized.

"This coming from the illustrious General Saro of the Irken Elite, veteran of the Great Uprising, hero of the Republic?" Aora gently prodded fun at his expense, sipping her tea with a smirk.

"I never proclaimed that."

"Uh-huh…"

"Okay, maybe once…or twice…I was trying to overshadow what came before, alright?"

"Did he really say that?" Ord looked at Aora after blinking.

"He did. He reminded me of a theater actor, complete with the dramatic flair of overexaggeration and a dashing cape."

"Oh Irk, the cape…" Saro muttered, dragging his palm down his face in exasperation. "Look…I had to try really hard to make an impression on everyone that I wasn't a cruel, bloodthirsty psychopath when it mattered most. It worked, didn't it?"

"Do you hear me complaining?" Aora wistfully commented. "I found it enthralling…befitting for the heroic general to sweep me off my feet, is it not?"

"I suppose if it worked I…really shouldn't drudge up his past and ruin it." Ord shook his head. "Maybe some things are better left in the past."

"No, you shouldn't." Saro reiterated with a huff, topping his cup of tea off. "Not everyone is eager to talk about the past. It's done and dusted for a reason. You wanna talk about anything after T'daali, that's fine. What came before don't matter anymore and I don't want to dig that grave up."

"That's actually what I'm hoping you'd open up about." Ord looked at him, "I heard enough about who you were before that, I was hoping you'd talk about after since Vaukt just told us about the prison break, Corr told us about Onikaiah; I wonder if you could tell me about what happened on Haven, keep in line with how the story's progressing."

Saro studiously looked to the contents of his cup in contemplation. Layer upon layer of mental dust to be cleared of an era gone by. A prior history forever a lifetime ago. Before settling into the mundane life of managing a greenhouse and floral arrangements. Before meeting the love of his life to forever change his path forward.

"...the movement lacked a proper army. Sure, we had special forces operatives falling out our c'hurta but they can't win conventional engagements on their own. No, we needed proper troops to accomplish anything meaningful beyond sustained harassment and disruption. Both Vaukt and Vult were in agreement on that much, shockingly. Those two always got along like a house on fire. So I was given the task of turning a bunch of former freighter crew into fighting men and women. I had my work cut out for me."