[A/N: thank you to Jocasta Silver, Serious Subway Flirting, and Sharaen for the reviews and also those of you who follow/favorited :)]

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"I simply admire her," blondie says. Yeah, I've seen the way he 'admires' you. I give a noncommittal grunt in response. He follows me out of the cockpit, and I wish everyone would just stick to their own part of the fracking ship. It's small enough without the kid invading my space, asking if I need help with some inane task or another. "Surely you've noticed-"

"Yeah, and I noticed first, get it?" I turn to scowl at him when we reach the medbay. He falters a little under my glare then sighs, his mouth twisting slightly in discomfort.

"Atton. I don't think you understand what I'm-"

"Oh, I understand, kid. Here's the thing. She likes honest guys, real ones," I say, and you'd laugh at the irony if you were there to hear me. "Not guys who want to play the big noble hero," I finish, regardless.

I hear a suppressed chuckle echo from the engine room as I storm away, leaving pretty boy where I wish he would stay.

"What, you think someone like her would never go for me?" I demand of Bao-Dur as I enter the room. He pauses to look at me, unfazed by my mood.

"I think I'm getting back to work."

"Hey! I'm being serious," I insist, leaning in the doorway. "Besides, you...knew her before, right?" I ask Bao-Dur.

"To an extent," he replies shortly, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It's hard to get a story out of him as it is to get one out of you or me. The war will do that to you, I guess. He catches the look I give him and continues. "She was a general, Atton. I knew her, but she hardly had enough time to be eating rations with the mechs," he explains in that slow, calming way he has.

"But you've still known her longer than any of us," I point out stubbornly.

"If you say so," he replies, agreeably enough.

"Okay, what does that mean?" I scratch at my neck in annoyance.

"I don't think any of us back then really knew the General, Atton." He finally looks up from the workbench, pausing his work on his remote. He rubs at his cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a light smudge of grease across his tattooed skin, looking thoughtful. "She was- wait, why are you asking, anyway?"

"I..." I pause, realizing that I don't have a sarcastic comment or lie ready. I must be losing my touch.

"Yes?"

"Okay, but... don't laugh. I was wondering what you thought the chances were of me and her...well, you know..." I trail off.

He looks up again, but I can't read his expression.

"You're serious?" he asks, and I hear that hint of amusement betraying his normally calm demeanor. "You're serious."

"I said not to laugh!" I complain.

"I'm not laughing. Your guess is as good as mine, Atton," he shrugs unhelpfully. I frown.

"I'm just saying, you know, with the whole Jedi thing- but she's not a real Jedi anymore. Not that I know anything about Jedi... Do you know what I'm saying?"

"I think so," he answers slowly. "You're saying you have feelings for the General."

I look at the ceiling in exasperation.

"Frack, don't say something like that so loud! It's not even true," I lie, scowling at him. "What, a guy can't ask whether he has a chance of hooking up a power coupling?" I continue, annoyed. "And you don't have to call her "the General" all the time. It's kind of creepy." He looks at me thoughtfully.

"You rarely call her by her name. To her face, I mean." He has a point, but like hell I'd admit it.

"Yeah, well...that's..." He gazes at me expectantly, crossing his arms and waiting for me to continue. "That's different," I scowl.

"If you say so," Bao-Dur replies.

"You're mocking me," I narrow my eyes at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Dwooo. Beep-boop, dwooooo," the droid whirs into the doorway and conveniently settles itself just out of my foot's kicking range.

Stupid walking tin can.

Like a beeping trash compacter is one to decide who's good enough for you.

"What's that bucket of bolts saying now?" I grouse, pretending like I don't understand. The ghost of a smile plays about the zabrak's lips.

"He says the General might be in need of a memory wipe," Bao-Dur translates. "If she were to consider doing anything you were to suggest."

"Hilarious," I respond dryly. I haven't the slightest idea why you haven't let me space that useless heap of scrap metal. "We'll see how funny you are when I-"

"Hello, General," Bao-Dur interrupts, looking past me and into the hall of the loading ramp.

"Nice try," I roll my eyes at him.

"Hello, Atton," you say. I slowly turn to see you standing behind me, Visas and the hag at your side. Visas immediately heads in the opposite direction to the dormitory, and I wish the kid would take some lessons from her on not being a nuisance.

"Angel," I reply, nodding at you with a grin. If the nicknames are getting on your nerves today, I can't read the annoyance on your face.

"Beep. Boop-beep. Dwooo."

"You have an audio recording to show me?" you repeat, your tone betraying a fond amusement for the obnoxiously overactive robot.

"Fracking boot-licker," I grumble, aiming a kick in his general direction. It beeps in dismay, scurrying away. "See, this is why I hate droids. That one's so far broken in the head, I don't think anyone can fix it. Don't listen to anything he shows you."

"A bit...defensive, Atton?" you tease, but your delivery falls flat as you walk away.

Frack, angel. You might as well be a droid. With a good body, at any rate. Maybe I could convince you to start announcing your tone at the beginning of sentences like those homicidal silver droids we keep coming across.

The old witch stays put for a few seconds, glaring as best she can without actually looking at me. I side step her and walk back to the cockpit.

I'm only a little surprised to find you there.

But I don't show it and drop into the pilot's seat.

"Hey, you don't really trust blondie back there, do you?" I ask, as you study the navigation charts.

"I trust him about as much as I trust you," you respond, still absorbed in your task.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I turn to look at you over the chair.

"Nothing," your eyebrows furrow just slightly when we make eye contact. "What's the problem?"

"He's a spy, you know. For the Republic," I point out, annoyed.

"I know."

"What? You know?" You look at me but don't say anything for a few moments.

"What difference does it make to you?" you demand, fully abandoning the console to frown at me.

"I just don't like people who aren't who they say they are," I grouse, and yeah, yeah, the irony. Whatever.

You raise your eyebrows in a patronizing way, suggesting that my statement applies to everyone in this room.

"Well, that covers just about everyone in the whole fracking universe," you roll your eyes at me.

"You know what I mean." You study me for a long while, your arms crossing over your chest.

"No. I don't," you argue stubbornly. I just shake my head and settle back into my chair.

You do know, even if you won't admit it.

But that's how it is.

I lie to you, and you lie to yourself.