[24, 25, 26]

Nihlus has wondered about it for quite some time now. Ever since he discovered the block of ammo in the small drawer of Saren’s desk. Someone had meticulously carved Saren’s name–first and last–into it, along with noting that the memento was issued in honour of being first in his class during ATT. Now, he liked Saren. Maybe a bit more than ‘liked’. Okay, a lot more. But ever since finding out, he’s begun to obsess over the idea. Who was better at tactics? Could he run circles around his mentor?

[23]

BEGIN LOGGING AT 10/01/75 04:36:29

VERIFIED Y/N: Y (RETINA)

CONNECTED TO RSVRD_CHNL76_C

Saren has signed in.

lovelystranger: Hey, number one.

Saren: Really, Nihlus?

[22]

He can’t concentrate on his report, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many times he tells himself that the Council can only take so much before they over-regulate. Still, he cannot help but think of Nihlus’ choice in shore leave purchases. He could care less about where Nihlus found it. He could care less about how many credits of his meagre allowance he spent. The question is: why? Why does he have that thing?

[21]

Saren finally relaxes a little and drinks some of the tea, now cold. Evidently, the cup is not as insulated as advertised. Or its lid plays a major role in said insulation. But the curls of steam that rose from the surface were a comforting sight in the frigid bridge while he was typing away at the series of reports. Just as well. It tastes less bitter when cold anyway. Premium blend from Palaven, freshly unboxed.

[20]

Nihlus likes his fringe touched. It would be good to remember that. Tactical advantage, if you will. Wrong context, though. Much more difficult than memorising pressure points. Those are common to a species. Hence, easy. Sensitive spots, frustratingly, belong to the individual. Nihlus does not hoard them (yes, please, right there, that’s–), but it is difficult nontheless. Nihlus does not fuss and hide behind bedsheets or clothing, but it still takes a careful hand to coax out the most unusual things from his collection.

[19]

Nihlus is alone in the commons, typing away at the report. He pauses, sips the lukewarm water directly from the decanter. He should really go to sleep soon. His fingertips have been rubbed raw from the difficult descent and the grit inside his weave, and the constant typing is not helping. He continues anyway; his mind feels too numb. Numb is good. Numb is great. The hardened smile remains.