"Really, Thrawn," Sola admonished after the ISB representatives had left. "You had guests and nothing with which to entertain them."
"They weren't here to be entertained," he replied, harsher than he meant to. "They were here for business."
Her face changed at his words, looking slightly hurt. "You're angry," she said quietly.
"I am not angry," he said, his voice calmer than he felt.
"You are. I'm sorry I made you angry with me." She sounded small, the metaphorical light that usually shone from her diminishing with the words.
He wasn't angry. He was irked. Annoyed that Colonel Yularen's arrival overlapped with hers. Annoyed that he had to share what little time he had with her. Annoyed that Colonel Yularen toyed with her during their tea.
"I am not angry with you," he amended.
"What are you angry about?" he asked, taking a step closer to him.
"I am…disappointed that our time together will be cut short," he ventured.
"We still have a little time," she said placatingly, taking another step toward him.
"You held yourself well during Colonel Yularen's visit," he said.
"He seems like a nice and reasonable man," she said. "Was there a reason for me not to hold myself well?"
"I would expect nothing less from you," he told her honestly.
She chuckled. "I got the impression you've known him for a long time."
"I have."
Her gaze turned to the teacups on the table, all of them set askew with tea leaves floating in the bottom. "They were here because of the increase in insurgent activity, weren't they?"
There seemed to be little she did not know about. He wondered how much her brother told her about such matters and how much she simply deduced on her own. It could be a coin toss, he mused. He liked that he didn't have to explain everything to her, or lead her to come up with her own explanations. She did it quite readily on her own.
"Yes," he admitted. "But it is nothing I cannot deal with."
She looked at him through her pale eyelashes. "Would it be odd of me to wish for your safety?"
He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"I want you to be safe," she repeated.
"My safety is not in question," he told her. "There is a measure of danger just being on this ship."
"But there is a measure of safety also, isn't there?" she asked. "You being on a star destroyer." She seemed to be searching for something in her words, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
"There is," he conceded. "The rebels don't have the firepower to take on a star destroyer. But it is not impossible for them to infiltrate one. The recent experience aboard the Crimson Asp proves that."
She shuddered. "When I saw that Jedi in the hallway, I was terrified." Her voice was just above a whisper. "To think there are two."
That answered the question for Thrawn as to whether Uriellien discussed matters with her.
"I could feel him," she said. "Almost like the way water feels when you jump into a pool. That temperature change on your skin? Like that."
He was quiet for a moment, considering his next words. If he chose to speak them, they would be weighty, he knew. "I do not have the Force in me," he said carefully. "I do not feel the Jedi when they are near."
She winced slightly at the word 'Force'. "Be thankful," she said. "It's a curse."
"The Jedi do not seem to think so. Nor does Lord Vader or the Emperor." His voice was soft, as if someone might be listening.
She shook her head, as if she had some sort of knowledge he did not. And perhaps she did. "I don't know how they do what they do," she said, swallowing hard. "I suspect that different people can do different things…can tell different things. All I can do is read people."
As the words were coming out of her mouth, he knew they were a lie. She was bad at spouting falsehoods.
"That isn't true," he said. Their voices were still quiet, as if someone might be listening behind the door.
She blushed and looked away from him, frowning. "I pushed the Jedi," she whispered. She turned to look at him again, her cerulean eyes wide.
"With your mind?" He asked it slowly, as if speaking too fast would frighten her away.
Nodding, she swallowed again. "I was—" She stopped abruptly, her mouth open like the words wouldn't come out.
"Frightened," he finished for her.
"I fear for you," she said, "that you've encountered them. The Jedi."
"I will encounter them again," he said, placing his hands behind his back. "And next time they will not escape."
"You sound so sure," she smiled. She placed her hands together in front of her.
"I am sure," he replied, because he was. "I have no reason not to be."
"I worry for you," she tilted her head to the side.
"There is no need." He clutched his hands together.
Her com beeped. "My lady," said the pilot of her shuttle. "It's time for us to go."
She sighed, taking the com from a lace covered pocket. "I'll be there in a few moments." She looked up at him, licked her lips. She seemed restless to him, but he wasn't sure what she was upset about. Had Colonel Yularen and Agent Callus agitated her that much? Perhaps she was as disappointed as he was that their time was cut short.
She looked up at him, not having her normal 'goodbye' look on her face. Her cheeks flushed, he could see the heat rising in her face overlaid on the red that made her facial swirls more visible. "I know this is inappropriate and you don't have to say yes if you don't want to, but—" she paused and swallowed. "May I kiss you goodbye? Properly?"
Suddenly the distance between them seemed to lengthen, becoming impossibly long even though it was only a few feet. He scrambled in his mind to come up with an answer, knowing that either one he gave was a wrong answer, or either one was a right one. It was one of those impossible questions that had no real answer, the kind he hated precisely because they had no real answer.
She swallowed again.
He blinked, and took a slow breath in. "Yes," he said quietly.
She approached him, closing the distance between them until she was right under his nose. She reached up and cupped the side of his head, her thumb resting behind his orbital lobe. Looking up into his eyes, she seemed to be searching for something again, that thing he couldn't identify.
He dropped his hands from their clasping each other and let them hang at his sides. He could feel her breath on his face.
Then she leaned in to him, her eyes closing as she did so, and pressed her lips to his. They were slightly and perfectly puckered, soft and firm at the same time. He knew it was crossing an invisible line, but he was never one to stay in the lines, especially if it got him what he wanted. And, as much as he might try to deny it, he wanted her. He wanted her time, her company, her attention. He closed his eyes and leaned into her, keeping his hands at his side, not daring to touch her in any other way. If he put his hands on her, he wasn't sure he could completely control what he would do with them.
Her lips lingered on his, closed, pressed against him, for some time before she withdrew with a small osculation that made his groin clench. She stayed close to his face. He thought for a moment she would kiss him again, but she took a tiny step back.
Placing her hand on her chest, she said in a husky voice, "Stay as safe as you can," then placed her hand on his chest.
He resisted the urge to put his own on top of hers. Instead, he nodded his head. "I will endeavor to do so," his voice was little more than a whisper.
With a graceful movement, she turned, her hair swishing, and he watched her leave his office. He felt that now familiar pull on his gut, like a rope was tied to him, stretching until it broke.
She did not look back.