As silent as their first trek into Coronet City had been, somehow it seemed even moreso as father and son made their way through the bustling district side by side once more. Wil felt even more on edge, preparing himself for an outburst from Horatio, though it never came. Was it the plethora of witnesses surrounding them on every street that kept him contained, or had Wyliaa said something to him earlier that had truly changed his mind? Either option kept Wil on edge; his father had been in such an unpredictable state a few times before, and if past experiences were any indication, anything could easily set him off.

Wil had internally debated himself long enough, he mused, finally deciding to break the hour's-long silence as they turned down one last street to see their destination at the end of it.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Horatio maintained his pace as he answered without pause, his voice low and his gaze fixed straight ahead. "No, I'm not."

Wil expected as much, and he felt that much more guilty for how he'd acted against his father's wishes earlier, but as he began to offer to talk with Baxer alone, Horatio continued.

"...but if anything of what he says is actually true, if he really did know my parents and what they were like, then I owe it to you and Jewel. It won't make any difference to me, but...you two should know."

Surprised at his change of heart but trying not to show it, Wil withheld a larger smile. "I appreciate that, Dad. I really do."

Horatio sighed, nodding reluctantly to accept Wil's thanks as he stepped around a passerby. "Just because I'm going to listen to him doesn't mean I'm going to believe him."

Wil, too, stepped past a patron leaving the diner, keeping his tone sympathetic as they entered. "I understand."

The diner was still somewhat empty despite the late hour of the day, a handful of Weequays and Grans being served their meals by a surly Aqualish waiter. Wil's gaze was quickly drawn, though, to the white-haired man who had in turn spotted them, as well, leaping from his seat at a back booth to meet them.

"Yes! Ho-Horatio, Wil-Wil, yes! You came-came back! We-w-we we have so so m-much to disc-d-discuss discuss!"

"Easy, Baxer," Wil cautioned with an amused grin. "There's no rush right now. Why don't we sit and order some food and drinks, okay?"

Withdrawing his extended hands to wring them anxiously instead, Baxer nodded with his head bowed. "Yes, yes. R-right. Sit. Sit. I...I-I-I I had some bit-bite bites of nerf, but...n-not-not much. We...we w-we could share!" He quickly motioned to the table he'd occupied since the Sheridans had left him behind earlier, and as he'd said, only one lone plate of roasted nerf sat atop it, a meager chunk having been cut from it. As Baxer eagerly returned to his seat to distance himself from Horatio's harsh glare, Wil got the waiter's attention and ordered a bottle of Corellian Ale for the three of them. Maybe a few drinks could calm the tension.

Wil took the inside seat opposite Baxer, pressing himself against the wall to leave his father ample room to sit beside him. As expected, Horatio hesitated even longer before lowering himself into the booth, never breaking eye contact with their new Arkanian friend. With his hands nervously stroking his thighs in the silence, Baxer glanced between the two with an expectant expression, nearly bursting with energy but seemingly awaiting an invitation to speak. Wil struggled to keep an amused grin off his face.

"So, Baxer, you said you were a...baker?"

Baxer's light gray eyes sparkled with excitement as he beamed at Wil. "Yes, y-yes! I...I I made...b-br-breads, breads, pastries, and and an-and sweets. Recipes f-fr-from fr-from home. Arkania. Not m-many out-ou-outside out-outsiders outsiders go there, so I was...popular. I was on-on-only only there a...mon-month month, a few months when Kaz mo-m-move moved next, next door!"

As the Aqualish waiter brought the bottle of ale and three glasses to the table, Wil stole a brief look at his silent father beside him. Horatio's gaze still hadn't lifted from Baxer, save for a frequent, swift glance at the same bowed durasteel plate on the wall behind Baxer's seat, very nearly the same seat Wil had occupied just hours earlier. The plate was polished and shiny enough that it afforded them a view of the entire diner at their backs without the appearance or effort of turning to look, a skill Horatio had long since perfected.

Before Wil had even returned his attention to Baxer after the waiter had left, the quirky Arkanian had already opened the bottle, poured himself a glass, and downed it in an entire gulp. Wil watched him with an eyebrow raised as Baxer placed the glass back onto the table and desperately gasped, feeling the potent drink's effects in his chest.

"Th-thank thank you, thank y-you!" Baxer answered Wil's unasked question gratefully as he again tipped the bottle over his glass, filling it once more. "It w-wi-will wil-will help me...talk-t-ta-talk better. Better. The ale. You y-y-you have been so so s-so patient pat-patient with me, thank you thank you!"

Again amused, Wil shook his head and grabbed the bottle to pour what was left into his and his father's glasses as Baxer emptied his a second time. "Kasimir moved into the shop next to yours, and he...sold droids?"

"Repaired! Yes! He...he-he repaired them. All kinds."

"Repaired," Wil echoed correctly, lightly sipping from his glass. "So he was skilled, good with his hands, good with droids."

Baxer smiled broadly. "Yes! He even h-help helped me with my...my ovens. Cooking tools. Sometimes. He was...so, so helpful. We became good fr-f-friends so quickly. So quickly."

Hoping it wasn't a touchy subject, Wil had to comment. "You're right; that drink did help you, Baxer."

Though he appeared briefly self conscious as he wrung his hands in his lap, Baxer nodded, hesitating. "Sometimes, or m-most times now, my brain...works faster than I can s-say words. The drink s-sl-slows it down. Some. So I can say w-what what I'm thinking before...before it goes away. But," he paused, his expression falling, "but I...I-I I don't...like to. I don't like to drink. It...it brings back m-memories. Bad memories. Very bad. So...so I I'm only slowing it for n-now so I can tell you everything I can about Kaz be-before you get impatient with me."

Moved with compassion for the kinds of judgment and torment Baxer had likely been through in his hundred-and-twelve years, some of which that had been lived on the dangerous and unforgiving streets of Coruscant, Wil gave him a lighthearted laugh.

"Baxer... I have two five-year-old twin girls who have asked me and their grandfather every possible iteration of every kind of question that exists in the galaxy since they were two. We won't get impatient with you. We promise."

Again Baxer's eyes lit up with excitement at the mention of Wil's daughters. "Twins! Yes, yes! Of course! Of course you had twins! Horatio, you...y-your sister Recero, your twin...where is she?"

Wil answered him quickly, eager to stave off his father's anger. "She...passed, a long time ago, Baxer, in her thirties."

Surprising him, Baxer's expression fell immediately and completely at the news, appearing genuinely gutted. His shoulders sank as he let go of a pained breath, his eyes emptily scanning the table in front of him. He seemed to struggle to find words for a long moment before he managed to look back up at the two, his voice suddenly weak.

"...how?"

Wil had begun to answer him again, but Horatio's sharp words cut him off, the first he'd spoken since they'd sat down.

"She caught some novel disease in her prison cell on Ambria. Scientists on Malastare couldn't figure it out in time."

Tears had begun to form in Baxer's eyes, softening his voice even more. "Oh, Horatio... I'm... I-I I'm so sorry..."

Without a response from the elder Sheridan, Baxer's head fell forward into his hands as he shook it, continuing to apologize sadly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I'm sorry, it's all my fault... I'm to blame, blame me - "

"Baxer," Wil tried to soothe, worried for their friend's worsening state. "Baxer, it's okay - "

"No!" Baxer's hands gripped impossibly tight fistfuls of his white hair as he continued to shake his head with increasing speed. "No no no no no, no no, no I... I I-I was supposed to... I was supposed to take care of them..."

"Baxer, please, try to calm down - "

Baxer suddenly whipped his head up, his piercing white eyes looking directly at Horatio. "I was supposed to take care of you! But I...I I I...I failed. I failed. I let my be-best best friend die. And...and I let his kids be taken."