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Bly hovers outside the door to his general’s quarters, trying to talk himself up to knock. In the five months he’s been assigned to General Secura, she has said many times over that he is welcome to stop by her room any time, but he has yet to actually take the Jedi up on the offer yet, other then one very brief time when he had gone in with her to pick up a file she had in his room. But Bly had been in her room for less than three minutes at that time, and he had only stood two steps inside her doorway after following her in. There was a huge difference between following someone into their quarters after they invited you and actively seeking out an invitation.
But.
But General Secura had missed their morning meal for the first time in months, and then she had missed the block of time set aside for training with the shinies for the first time ever. None of the men had seen her at all today. And so, Bly finds himself standing at General Secura’s door, worrying about knocking while something could be horribly wrong inside.
Bly steels himself, reminding himself that General Secura was nothing like the Kaminoans had said the Jedi would be like, and forces his hand to start knocking against the metal door. After the first contact of his hand against the door, it gets easier, and he knocks twice more before he waits for a response from inside. He waits for only a moment.
“Come in.” The call from inside is far quieter than General Secura usually is, and about halfway through it transforms into what Bly is almost certain was a sound of pain. With that, Bly practically slams the door open, rushing into her room. General Secura is lying sprawled flat across her couch, lekku curled up into tight balls on either side of her head. Her limbs are limp on either side of her. One leg is dangling off the side of the couch, the other one rests up on the back of the couch. On arm is hanging off the couch, and the other one rests limply across her torso.
“General!” Slips out of Bly’s mouth in worry as he takes in her washed-out blue skin, and generally sorry shape. Then he immediately regrets it as he tries to find words to express the rest of his concern.
“Hey.” General Secura limply gestures in what Bly is pretty sure was supposed to be a wave, but ends up just being a wiggle of her arm.
“General Secura, what happened? Are you alright?” Bly finally finds his words, moving across the room and dropping down next to her.
“I’m alright,” Bly immediately wants to call her on her osik. “It’s just that time of the year again.” General Secura continues, and that answers exactly none of Bly’s questions. Unless she means that she gets attacked every year, but Bly knows her well enough to mean that he’s can be 95% sure that isn’t what she’s trying to say. The other five percent is allowing for Jedi nonsense, especially her master. Bly has met the man once but has already learned never to count him out for anything.
“First off – that’s nonsense, you are not alright. You are not fine, Sir.” Bly tacks on the title more out of habit then anything else. It elicits the same eye-roll it always does when used out of a formal situation, so at least General Secura is alright enough to do that. “And to be frank, Sir, I have no idea what you mean when you say this time of the year.” That gets a groan from the General.
“No, of course not, it’s hardly something the Kaminoans would mention. It does not fit with their image of holier than thou Jedi.” She groans, and then shifts in several small moments onto her side so that she is face to face with Bly where he is squatting beside her now. “There is nothing horribly wrong with me – this is just something that happens to Twi’lek women about every six months. I have horrible cramps in my lekku that feel like concentrated death, but it passes in two or three days.” General Secura comments and then drops her head back to the couch from where she had attempted to lift it. Bly bites the inside of his lip. It looks like General Secura is in a lot of pain, and to hear that it’s a fairly regular thing does not fill Bly with happy feelings. He reaches up and takes his bucket off so that General Secura can see his face.
“Is there anything I can do to help you, General? Maybe run and get some painkillers from Hypo?” Bly asks.
“No, the amount of painkiller I have to take to have any effect is both wasteful and unhealthy. If it gets really bad, we can revisit the issue,” General Secura clearly anticipates Bly’s protest – she’s learning his tells, if Bly guesses, since she already confirmed she can’t read his mind. Still, if this isn’t really bad, Bly shudders to imagine what is.
“If not a painkiller, is there anything I can do?” Bly insists, he can’t just leave her here like this.
“If you don’t mind, Commander, if you can heat some water and dampen a cloth with it? I don’t have a heating pad with me, so that should work as an improvised solution.” She admits, and Bly immediately begins moving towards the kitchenette attached to the General’s quarters.
“Is there anything else?” He adds as he goes.
“I… My Master used to make a warm drink? If you’re heating water, I should have enough of a dried mix for this cider drink from Corellia for two cups?” She adds hesitantly, and Bly nods before processing what she has said.
“Two cups, Sir?” He asks, and he knows she can read his confusion.
“Well, I would be honored if you would stay and share a cup with me?” Bly stops and turns to face her, blinking in surprise. “I enjoy your company, Commander.” She adds.
“I would enjoy that a lot, Sir,” Bly responds with a small smile on his face, and a happiness he is sure General Secura feels. Bly doesn’t mind that at all.