Upon studying Sola's poetry, Thrawn was able to ascertain several things. One was that she became more private the older she got. Even though the poems themselves still highlight specific images, they came less and less from private experience and more into a general personal experience realm. He didn't know if that was deliberate or unconscious on her part, but it was obvious that she was putting a barrier between herself and the world around her.

And when he thought about it, she rarely talked about herself. When she did, it was in general about items that were already well known about her. She tended to direct the conversation away from herself in a way that was unnoticeable if one wasn't paying attention. But now, Thrawn was paying attention.

She wanted her private thoughts to remain her own. Something had happened to her to cause her to fear revealing too much of herself to others. He remembered Ryloth, when they "spoke of maps," and how frightened she had been. Her voice had barely been above a whisper and the tension around her big blue eyes had caused the fine lines around them to deepen. He strongly suspected she was afraid of being outed as a Force-user. Perhaps she had witnessed another Force-user be disappeared for their talent. Perhaps the stories of those disappearances were enough to make her afraid. Perhaps someone had once outed her and she was not going to make the mistake again. He doubted that, though. If she was publicly known as a Force-user, then she wouldn't be there to have tea with him.

The second thing he noticed was that her poetry became less formal as she continued to write it. Her earlier pieces, of which he'd found two poetry readings where she performed, were very structured, following a rhyme, meter, and type pattern. As she aged, the poetry became more free-flowing and image based. Perhaps from her removal from the formal school system for so long, though rumor had it that she tutored her own children when they were grade school age. Perhaps it was from her own loosening of bonds, having lost both of her parents, being removed from her homeworld, leaving the workforce to care for children. Perhaps she had simply gotten more used to poetry and felt more free with her form.

When Sola arrived on the Chimaera, he went to the hangar bay to greet her. She exited the small military craft, designated to the Crimson Asp, he noticed. So, she'd been to visit with her brother before coming over to him. She wore lace, had he ever seen her without lace? Even her nightgown had lace at the collar and sleeves. She was followed by an old model domestic mouse droid. It had a basket on its top with two bouquets and a basket of flowers.

"Grand Admiral!" she beamed, bouncing down the exit ramp and stopping directly in front of him. She looked up at him a moment, a forearm's length away from him. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air between them growing tingly. She then touched her chest and reached out to touch his. "It is good to see you again, my friend."

"It is good to see you, also," he told her. Neither one of them took a step back. "You brought flowers for tea?" he said, gesturing to the housedroid.

"Oh, they aren't from me," she said with a hand in the air. "They are from your potential allies."

He raised an eyebrow as he swiveled to her side and put out his elbow for her take. "I beg your pardon?"

"They're messages," she explained as she slipped her arm into his and they began walking one of his captains following. "People obviously thought I was discreet enough to be the messenger."

"Messages?" He glanced dubiously at the housedroid carrying the flowers.

"It's an ancient code of communication amongst the upper class. Each flower means something alone, and then something else when combined with other flowers. Sometimes it takes a little to decipher the message, but I like to think I'm rather good at it." She drew herself a little taller and smiled proudly.

The housedroid beeped.

"Why thank you, HS," she replied. She then explained to Thrawn what each one meant.

"You get all of that from a bouquet of flowers?" They arrived at his office and he released her arm as he inserted his key into the slot. "And you speak binary?"

The door slid open. "I speak a lot of languages," she answered evasively.

He had set up his office with a small table and two chairs in the middle, adorned with the admiral's tea set provided with the star destroyer. He gestured for her to enter in front of him. She did, with the housedroid at her heels.

"Where would you like me to put the flowers?" she asked.

Thrawn nodded to the captain who hurriedly took the flowers from the housedroid. He gestured to one of the seats and took the one opposite it. The housedroid stayed close to Sola, as if it were afraid to go anywhere else.

"Admiral," she said, "this is HS-1303."

The droid beeped when Thrawn nodded to it.

"He's been with me since I was in University. He was a gift from my parents." She looked down at it fondly. "He's been a good droid."

The droid beeped again and Sola laughed.

The sound made his stomach tighten. She reached out to the teapot to pour the tea, he put his hand on top of hers. Her hand was warm and small. She looked up from the teapot into his eyes, her blonde eyebrows raised questioningly. They were frozen in that position for a long moment, before he blinked and said, "Is it not the job of the host to pour the tea?"

She smiled. "It is, but I want to pour it for you." Her voice was quiet.

"That would make me a poor host," he replied, just as quietly, his hand still over hers.

"Then I will make you a deal." Her smile turned mischievous.

"You like to make deals," he noted.

"I like to get my own way," she admitted. "But I don't want to leave you wanting. How about I come and set up our tea time, then you can join when it's ready. That way, I can pour the tea, and you will still be a gracious host."

"Very well," he conceded, sliding his hand from hers. It felt like a soft caress under his fingertips. "But for today, the captain will be pouring the tea."

And on cue, the captain was at the table, sans flowers, reaching for the teapot. Sola retracted her hand before the captain got to it, so he could pour.

"I was reading your poetry," Thrawn continued. "It is very…interesting."

She looked back up at him, her expression carefully masked. "I think that is the first time I have heard it called interesting," she admitted. "Insightful. Impactful. Pretty. But not interesting."

"I found it to be all those things, also," he amended with a tilt of his head.

"I've written another one," she said. "Well, I've written many other ones, but one that is worth anything. I remember you saying we were going to discuss my poetry, I brought it to start off the discussion."

HS-1303 popped open the base of the basket that was on its top and a small datapad popped out.

"You don't have it memorized?" Thrawn teased.

She smiled at him coyly. "What's the old saying? Why memorize what you can look up?" She took the small datapad and then glanced back at him. "But if you like it enough, I'll memorize it for you."

He gave her small smile back, but said nothing.

She prepared the pad in her hand, sliding through a few documents before finding the one she wanted. She sat up straight in preparation for a recitation.

"Some might say

the Ryloth sun

is blinding

blazing

down on brown

sand

and brown

skin

bleaching

brown hair

to a pale blonde.

But it is a reminder

that at night

when the sun

goes down

the cold, black night

is filled with

bright

white

smatterings of stars.

That one,

right there,

is your star,

a ship filled

with people waiting

for your return

or at least

an order

as you endure the

blinding

sun and star filled

nights

where our breath

fogs in front of us

mingling together

as we talk."

She looked at the pad for a moment longer before looking up, a slight blush on her cheeks, the heat in them raised.

"It's about us," he noted quietly.

She nodded demurely and put the datapad down. "That's how I remember Ryloth," she said.

He was quiet for a moment, regarding her. That was how she remembered Ryloth? The blinding sun and the two of them talking in the dark? The image of her in her nightdress, looking like a ghost in the dim light of the maps surrounding him in the command tent flashed in his mind.

"That is how I remember Ryloth, also," he said.

Then they discussed the composition of the poem, the meter, the flow, compared it to like poems they both knew, and he asked if she was going to publish it.

"It's too personal to publish," she said. "But I want to publish again. I've written quite a few new poems that I think would be nice to see to the light of day." She smiled shyly. "You have me writing again. Thank you, Grand Admiral."

"There is nothing to thank me for," he said. "I haven't done anything."

HS beeped.

Sola clicked her tongue. "Tell him to wait."

As soon as the words exited her mouth, her comm indicated. "My lady," said the voice on the other end. "It's time for us to go if we are to get back to the Crimson Asp on time."

She huffed and pushed her chair out from under her as she stood up. "This is why I wanted a civilian transport," she muttered.

Thrawn stood up smoothly and stepped away from the table.

"Thank you for having me," she said, looking into his eyes once again. The heat rose in her cheeks again, but not enough to make the swirls at the sides of her face show. "I would say stay safe, but that would be a fruitless thing to say."

"It would," he agreed.

She stepped around the table so she was in front of him, and touched her chest. Then extended her hand to lay her fingertips on his chest. "Until we see each other again," she said in traditional Astarraxi farewell.

He nodded to her. "Until we see each other again." He gestured to the captain, who still stood to the side. "The captain will see you back to your ship, as I have things to attend to."

She nodded and smiled sweetly. "Of course," she replied.

He watched her go, the room feeling a little more empty than it had been only a moment before. He kept his eyes on the door as it closed behind her and the captain, then took a deep breath and walked to his desk. His mind switched gears as he sat down. He had rebels to deal with, and needed to concentrate on that.