Initially, Quinn felt a shudder of dread pass through him as he felt the weight of her vicious stare. After another moment or two, he vaguely worried he would be sick, as he was briefly tormented by a hint of nausea. Once she had turned away and left the ship, Quinn silently retreated to the cockpit, letting out a long sigh of mingled fatigue and frustration.
Once the cockpit door had closed behind him, he briefly leaned back against it, cradling his forehead in his hand. "What a mess," he muttered. "What a ridiculously complicated mess." Try as he might, he couldn't deny his fault in this matter. He knew perfectly well how his lord hated surprises; yet he had gone against her wishes and requested the transfer. He should not have been surprised she became so angry; he knew perfectly well how his lord hated surprises, and yet he had gone through with it anyway. Though he felt he had no right to ask for forgiveness from her, he did feel he needed to apologize for his actions. It would hurt his pride to beg for another chance, but he would gladly do it if it meant assuaging her temper.
Knowing what he had to do, no matter how unnerving the possible outcome, he returned to his usual place within the cockpit. As he approached, he spotted the datapad that sat silently on his chair. It contained all the necessary paperwork he had drawn up for his transfer to the Major's command; now, as he read the crisply formal words he had written out, he felt a sudden wave of anger at himself. When had he become this arrogant, this stupid? Who did he think he was, asking such a thing of his lord? The disgust he felt at himself and his actions only increased his rage.
With a low growl, he threw the datapad across the cockpit, hearing the dull thunk as it hit the durasteel floor. He could hear it slide across the floor, but was beyond caring at that moment. He simply sat in his chair with his chin in his hand, trying to determine the most appropriate way to apologize for his behavior.
Yet for all of his anger at himself, he wasn't completely convinced he was in the wrong. True, he could have chosen a better time to speak to her about the transfer, but he wasn't sure his request was all that unique. He wanted to do his job, he had felt being on her crew would compromise that. He had always been taught that an officer recused himself from his crew when he felt his ability to do his job was compromised; indeed, not doing so risked a court-martial for fraternization. So he was only doing what he was supposed to.
So why did that bring him no comfort? Why did that course of action only lead to more frustration and hardship?
He stiffened when he heard the cockpit door slide open, slightly fearful that it was his lord returning early to inflict some punishment or other upon him. He relaxed when he saw Vette's form leaning against the door frame, one eyebrow raised curiously.
"Can I help you, Vette?" he asked harshly. "Or have you simply come to gawk at my discomfort?"
Vette shook her head. "Neither, actually. I just wanted to see if I could help somehow. Y'know, see if I could intervene with Lyka and get you off the hook..."
"'Lycuneae', Vette," Quinn corrected briskly.
"Huh?"
"You keep referring to her by that ridiculous nickname of your creating. It is unprofessional and improper to refer to a Sith lord in that fashion," Quinn continued with a frown. Vette's tendency toward using nicknames for their lord always bothered him. "So I corrected you."
"Y'know, when you decide to turn on Captain Stuffy, you're really irritating," Vette snapped back crossly. "Given your current situation, I really don't think you're in much of a place to be lecturing me right now."
As she turned to leave, she stopped abruptly when the toe of her boot hit something on the floor. "What's this?" she asked, bending down to take a closer look. "Huh. Wonder why this datapad is just laying here."
"That datapad belongs to me," Quinn said, standing slowly. By this point, the young twi'lek had picked it up and was starting to browse through it. "I would appreciate it if you gave it back." His irritation only increased as she appeared to completely ignore him. No argument, no backtalk, no characteristic roll of her eyes, just silence. Briskly, he closed the gap between the two of them, yanking the datapad from Vette's hands and returning it to its usual place on his belt.
Damn Vette...how much did she see? He could feel his face redden slightly. What did she read...?
"You know. You're pretty lucky, Captain Stuffy," Vette's voice broke into his thoughts.
"Wh-why is that?" He tried his best to sound casual and detached. He failed miserably on both counts.
"Had it been anyone else standing in your boots and making the request you did, Lyka would have killed them on the spot," Vette replied, taking note of the blood draining from Quinn's face. "If it weren't bad enough you sprung a request on her when she was unprepared, you had to go and really dig yourself a hole by making it a transfer request. You're really lucky."
"Yes. I am well aware of that fact, Vette," Quinn snapped, walking back across the room to sit in his chair. "I thank you for the harsh reminder."
Frustrated, Vette threw her hands in the air. "Fine!" she said, clearly exasperated. "You go ahead and sit there and stew in your own stubborn idiocy, Quinn. See how far it gets you the next time you do something to make Lyka mad."
As she abruptly turned to leave the cockpit, Vette nearly collided with Jaesa, who had entered the cockpit through the open door. "Sorry, Jaesa!" Vette said, quickly stepping to one side. "I wasn't expecting you to come up here."
Jaesa smiled her usual sweet smile. "I wasn't planning on coming, either," she replied with a slight shrug. "Yet I had a feeling I needed to try and help smooth things over in some way."
Vette snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that," she said. "I don't think our good Captain is interested in listening to anyone right now, unless you count the voice in his head that tells him he's always right and always perfect."
"Excuse me?" Quinn protested sharply. "I do not have a voice in my head like that!"
"If you say so," Vette retorted before returning her attention to Jaesa. "At any rate, trying to talk to him has given me the worst headache. So I'm going to go lay down. You're more than welcome to try talking some sense into him, but I still think you're wasting your energy on a lost cause." With one last casual wave, Vette slipped through the doorway and out of sight, leaving the young former Jedi alone in the cockpit with a very unhappy-looking captain.
She stood quietly for several moments before she heard Quinn address her. "So what do you want?" he asked. "Are you really here to try to help, impossible a task as that may be? Or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me in my unhappiness?"
Jaesa shook her head. "No, I fully intend to find a way to help you," she replied, approaching the chair where Quinn sat with his forehead cradled in one hand.
He sighed. "That...may be easier said than done," he replied. "Regardless of my own thoughts or feelings on the matter, I have still gravely insulted our lord. The fact I am still alive to sit here and brood about it is rather surprising to me."
Jaesa remained quiet for several moments. "She doesn't wish to kill you, Quinn," she said, kneeling on the floor a few feet from where he sat.
"Hmph. And what makes you so certain of that?" His tone was still harsh, though it had lost a bit of its edge.
"I can feel it," she answered. "From both of you." She paused, waiting for him to ask another question. When none came, she continued. "I sense you care a great deal for her, Quinn. Far more than an Imperial officer should care for the Sith Lord he is serving. And I have sensed a similar level of caring from her regarding you."
He kept his hand close to his face, glad now that it would work to shield the reddening of his face. "I...yes. That's true," he conceded. "I do care for her greatly. So much so that I asked for the reassignment so I could make sure both she and her crew would remain safe."
"But you didn't ask her if that's what she would want, did you?" Jaesa's tone was gentle, yet firm. A holdover from her Jedi training.
He shook his head. "I didn't," he replied. "I thought...I thought working with her would be like serving in the fleet. You have a commanding officer you report to, you work with them and the rest of the crew, and you seek reassignment if things do not appear to be working in a productive fashion." He let out a long sigh. "I've never worked directly with a Sith before, let alone one like our lord. And my inexperience caused me to make a costly blunder. Looking at it now, I regret my behavior."
"I know you do, Quinn," Jaesa replied gently. "And I'm sure she knows it as well. However, actions -even if there is no ill intended- must have consequences."
He nodded. "I know. I only wish I knew what was in store for me."
"Give it time," she replied. "I'm sure she will provide answers before long." Slowly rising to her feet, Jaesa reached over and gave his free hand a gentle squeeze. "Just try not to get yourself in a situation like this again. It's not good for anyone within earshot, or who can sense the Force," she added, smiling as she took note of the redness of his face.
As she left the cockpit, Jaesa spotted Vette leaning against the wall of the common area. "I thought you had a headache, Vette," she said.
Vette shrugged. "It's strange," she said. "As soon as I left the cockpit, it went away. Funny how that works, isn't it?"
Jaesa raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't take the Force to see what a terrible liar you are sometimes, Vette," she replied. "Why didn't you just admit you were frustrated with trying to talk to him?"
"What fun would that be?" Vette answered.