Time passes slowly in a cell, but Quinn was able to approximate based on the meals he had been given. By his calculations, he had been locked up for just over three days. As detainment centers went, Quinn had little to complain about. His cell was climate-controlled, lit by a full-spectrum light, and contained a passably comfortable cot with clean sheets and blankets and refresher facilities hidden from the view of other prisoners, if not the security holos. The meals were sufficient and no one had injured or otherwise mistreated him. Still, Quinn was a soldier and a highly intelligent man. The lack of physical and mental stimulation was beginning to wear on him, and the confinement was calling up memories of his imperial imprisonment which he would have preferred to stay buried.

That was why he was surprised and delighted when one of the guards informed him that he had a visitor. The man delivered the news with a twinkle in his eye. He was former imperial who had served under Moff Broysc, and was therefore positively inclined towards Quinn. Quinn, for his part, straightened his prison-issue garments as best he could, took a deep breath, and held out his hands to be cuffed.

After the binders had been secured on his wrists, Quinn was led to a separate meeting room where he was instructed to take a seat at a table. The table had a magnetic plate for holding a cuffed prisoner in place, so Quinn was surprised when his restraints were removed instead of locked down. After he was situated, his guard took up a post by the door they had entered, and nodded to a guard across the room. That guard returned the nod and exited through the far door, presumably to fetch Quinn's visitor.

Quinn had suspected the identity of his guest, but his stomach still gave an apprehensive twist when Lord Otienoh Lorcan entered the room.

"My lord!" He exclaimed, instinctually rising to his feet, but he froze when he heard the sound of blaster safeties clicking off. All four guards in the room had their weapons trained on his chest. Lord Otienoh waved them off, and after a moment's hesitation, the guards lowered their blasters. The Sith lord sank into the chair across the table from Quinn and motioned for Quinn to resume his seat. Slowly, Quinn complied.

"So, Major. How are you holding up?" his lord queried, as casually as if he'd been asking for a report on his ship's engine performance.

"Well enough, my lord." Quinn bobbed his head respectfully. "Though I must admit, one can only count the tiles in the ceiling so many times before the novelty wears off."

Lord Otienoh smiled ruefully. "I brought you a care-package." He set a parcel on the table and slid it across to Quinn. "It should help alleviate the boredom, at least for a while."

Quinn could only stare at the package. It showed signs of being searched, of course: a reasonable precaution; he would have ordered the same. But it was the implications of the package that gave Quinn pause. When Quinn had been arrested, Lord Otienoh had been… mercurial… constantly flickering between anger and relief, soothing and threatening. Quinn hadn't been sure before, but perhaps this… Perhaps this meant he truly was forgiven.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Lord Otienoh asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Quinn blinked.

"Yes… of course," he said softly, and unwrapped the parcel. He reached his hand inside and it closed around a smaller box. When he lifted it out, a familiar, pleasant smell emanated from it. He opened it eagerly and breathed deeply of its contents: bags of his favorite variety of tea. Even if he couldn't get his hands on hot water, the smell would be soothing. He glanced up at Lord Otienoh, who was looking very pleased with himself at Quinn's reaction. Further examination of the parcel produced various other edibles: small treats to break up the monotony of prison food.

The next two items Quinn removed caught him by surprise. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he lifted out a pair of misshapen, brightly colored socks and a flimsiplast romance novel.

"Forgive me, my lord, but…"

Lord Otienoh smiled sheepishly. "Vette might have helped," he said. "One of the Jedi apprentices is trying to teach her how to knit. She said we could match." He pulled an identical pair of gaudy socks from a pocket in his robes, looking both fond and slightly embarrassed. "I don't know what she was thinking with the novel."

Despite himself, Quinn felt a chuckle rising up in his chest. He never knew quite what to make of his lord's wife. She was certainly a… unique… individual.

"There's one more thing in there, Quinn. Don't worry. This one's from me. Go on." Quinn obediently removed the last item from the parcel.

It was a flimsiplast copy of the Alliance regulations. To Quinn's horror, he felt tears spring to his eyes. Not only was it a thoughtful gift to stave off boredom, but it promised so much. If Lord Otienoh was giving him Alliance regulations to read, perhaps that meant…

"My lord?" He looked up; desperately hoping his tears would stay in his eyes where they belonged. "Might I inquire…?"

"The commander's reviewing your case," Lord Otienoh interrupted with a smile. "They still have some background checks to run, records to examine, that sort of thing, but it shouldn't be long now. You'll have your answer soon."

Now Quinn was struggling not to cry in earnest. "My lord, whatever decision the commander makes," he said around the lump in his throat, "thank you for all that you've done for me."

"My pleasure, Quinn," Lord Otienoh replied softly, and they sat for a while in companionable silence.

Sooner than Quinn would have liked, his lord shifted in his seat and started to stand. "I have to be going now, Quinn," he said. "I have a war to fight."

"Of course, my lord." Quinn bowed his head, but remembering the guards' previous reaction, stayed in his seat. "I wish you well."

"Likewise, old friend," Lord Otienoh replied. And then he was gone.

When the guards had deposited Quinn back in his cell, he sat on his bed for a while, processing all that had happened. He had no idea what call the commander would make regarding his incarceration, but his lord's visit had given him something he hadn't had in a long time: hope.

Silently, Quinn opened his box of tea and set it on the shelf beside his cot, flooding the room with its delicious scent. After a moment, he pulled on the socks Vette had made for him. Tasteless they may have been, but they were warm and soft and comforting. He curled up on his bed, reading through his book of regulations until night fell and he drifted off to sleep: the first truly peaceful sleep he'd had in six years.