AN: I'm trash for Ord Mantell stories. Here's a snippet.
She watched him. Silent.
Bacta patch brilliant white against his skin - shirt discarded.
He leaned forward; elbows to knees. Hands running through his hair.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
In and out. Quick and clean.
She felt it. The air changed. He stood. I'm sorry. He left.
