Chapter Text
“Commodore, a word.”
The sharpness in Thrawn’s voice snapped Faro’s attention away from the scowl she cast at the back of Darth Vader’s helmet. The “dark lord” had just turned his back on the Grand Admiral without so much as a courteous nod before addressing his First Legion troopers.
“Of course, sir.”
Thrawn spun on his heel and quickly exited the bridge. Faro struggled to catch up as his swift steps took them both through the Chimaera’s winding hallways into a small room that Faro had never actually been in before. In fact, it looked like a sparse broom closet…and it felt muted, the air stale and the walls covered in thick, rough material that seemed to absorb sound.
Thrawn stood half a meter away, his glowing red eyes shining brighter, his crimson pupils narrowed in a way that Faro had only seen a few times before and never directed at her. She felt the room cool several degrees.
“Is there something you wish to say, Commodore?” Thrawn asked.
Faro blinked. “No, sir.”
“Allow me to clarify then,” Thrawn tucked his hands behind his back. “Is there something you wish to say regarding Lord Vader?”
Faro stood perfectly still. She still maintained her assertive stance: head up, hands tucked behind her back just as Thrawn had done, but…it was hard to keep the sober face as he did.
In the end she broke into a snarl. “He disrespects you at every turn, grand admiral.”
Thrawn’s face was stone, but those eyes flared. “That is not your concern, Commodore.”
“So you don’t deny it?” Faro pressed.
“I am not a position to deny or confirm anything. As you are not in a position to object if I do.”
Faro fumed. “I will not stand by and allow that…that overgrown toaster to sully your name in front of the bridge crew, sir. Atollon was a success in comparison to many other attempts by moffs to bring down these rebel cells. I dare Darth Vader to do better-”
Thrawn took a step forward, cutting Faro short. In the cramp space it left nowhere for Faro to retreat, but retreat was farthest from her mind.
“This is a dangerous game we play, Karyn,” Thrawn said, quietly. “I will not allow vanity to get the better of my emotions as you should not allow your feelings for me to get the better of you.”
Faro’s shoulders dropped as the barrier of formality melted between them. Her expression hardened and she allowed emotion to strengthen her words. “I will not let anyone sully your good name, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
Thrawn’s stony expression broke. A small smile touched Thrawn’s lips. He closed the gap further between them. Although similar height, Faro felt as if Thrawn towered over her, his presence filling her vision, the woodsy scent of his skin taking her back to their first encounter…an interesting one to say the least. Thrawn lifted a single finger to glide along the edge of her chin. “My name will be my own to sully. The…‘toaster’…will do no harm I cannot repair.”
Faro scoffed, failing to resist a smile. She kissed his finger. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it.”
“And so eloquent when you say it,” Thrawn retorted, tilting his head, something he always tended to do when being cheeky, despite his innocent expression.
“Everything I say is eloquent,” Faro sniffed, but her smirk matched the glimmer in his eyes.
She collected herself. “I will…exercise caution in the future, sir.”
Thrawn took a step back and again they resumed their roles as Commodore and Grand Admiral. “Thank you, Commodore.”
“You owe me comfort food after this ordeal,” Faro added, her professional air slipping for a moment longer.
Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “I owe you nothing, but…I shall cook nu’luk faan all the same.”
“I haven’t the foggiest what that is, but I am sure I’ll be pleased.”
Thrawn brushed by Faro to reach the door, pausing a moment to brush his lips over the edge of her ear, just below her officer’s cap.
“You will be very pleased.”