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"What the fuck is this." Fox asks. Or, states threateningly in a way that projects the illusion of a question. Fox is very good at that.
"A break!" Thorn grins, half bluster and half determination.
Fox narrows his eyes, “From what exactly?”
Thorn blinks, makes a gesture that encompases all of Coruscant and the Senate in one sweeping move. “Oh, ya know, this and that.”
Fox raises an eyebrow, “Uh-huh, what the fuck happened now.”
“Nothing!” Stone insists, “This is just a medically mandated break! For the good of Everyone, Sir.”
“Is it now,” Fox observes, pleasantly. His smile, Thire notes, shows a lot of teeth.
Stone’s smile goes strained.
Fox doesn’t so much as twitch.
Thire rolls his neck, head held up half-heartedly with his hand. Fox’s glare manages to go from threatening to deadly without moving a muscle. Hound blinks placidly back.
There are two sides to Fox knowing Bral’s number, they don’t leave each other, and they present a united front on most matters.
This is one of them.
It isn’t, Thire reflects tiredly, that Fox can’t take care of himself or requires them to force him to take care of himself. Fox is perfectly capable of it.
But Fox, right now, is angry and vicious and determined and if Bral has learned anything it is this: When Edee has something to tear into and chew on, they are worse in some ways than the Shebse can be.
There is, somewhere in Fox’s office — and, Thire thinks, Gree’s and Colt’s — a report on the last contact that anyone had with Valor, and the longer it takes for anyone to hear back, the worst it is.
Bral knows this wait, Bral has sat through much the same with far, far, less and more delayed info before.
(Thire is, first and foremost, a medic. They have scraped and scrounged and put together something nearing an adequate manual for the things no one thought to teach them about out of secrecy and blood and sheer vicious determination. From the Alpha’s all the way down to the speedies, medics learn what they are taught, and then they learn what the Kaminoans would never agree or even think to teach them.
Thire wasn’t the best in his class, but he was pretty damn fucking good. He watches Fox and thinks of every note he has made in the back of his head and knows deep in his bones that Fox, right now, is scared.
It is not something that Fox wears lightly.)
Stone heaves an over-exaggerated sigh, sprawls even more haphazardly on the couch, “There are no meetings for once, and the city-planet might never sleep but for once we have a solid chunk of time that no one has to handle anything pressing. Take the fucking break Fox.”
Fox snorts, “Keep talking and I’ll find you a job more irritating than mousedroid.” he threatens, but the painfully tense line of his shoulders relaxes in miniscule increments.
Thorn plays his card, resuming their game. “I told you,” he sing songs under his breath.
Fox, predictably, narrows his eyes at that. Less predictably, he makes space at the table and grabs himself a hand of cards, effectively inserting himself into the game.
Thire blinks, there’s no way that just worked. Fox wields the little fucking manipulations like they’re nothing there is no way on this force forsaken karking planet that that blatant fucking taunt actually worked.
Stone smirks, sends Thire a pointed look that says ‘I told you.’
Thire ignores that.
“Move your shebs Thire! Your go!” Stone says cheerfully, Thire ignores that too.
He’ll take precisely as much time as he wants, thank you very much.
He draws with feigned indifference, pleased to find that his hand is still strong and takes the fact that he will probably be beating Stone at the very least as a comfort.
Bral is very good at creatively engineering a winning situation in cards. They abuse this skill thoroughly every time they play.
Thire hums, glares unimpressed at Stone and throws a card he no longer needs away.
Stone gets a smug look on his face at that, picks it up and calls with way too much pride for Thire’s liking. Thire is going to give him enough hypos that it wipes that smarmy look right off of his face.
His hand is adequate, and much to Thire’s concertation, worth the same value as his own the bastard.
Thorn rolls his eyes, shows his hand with a flourish. Hound does the same with far less dramatics and accepts his first loss out of four games with grace and an air of indulgence. Thire throws him a kark-you-kindly and shows his hand. Stone loses the smug look and pouts, while Thorn cackles and Hound hides a smile behind his mug of caf.
Fox grins.
He shows his hand and oh that absolute fucker.
“What! You didn’t even! How?” Stone splutters, because somehow the Commander has managed to not only beat all of their hands but do so without drawing a single card.
Fox leans back, smug and viciously delighted, “If you don’t want me to win, don’t all stack the cards to give yourselves winning hands.”
Bral squad immediately all deny the accusations and defamation upon their characters, honestly Commander how could you?
Fox gives them the incredulous look that they are all pretending they most definitely do not deserve.
Stone huffs, sulking in his seat, “Still think he cheated somehow,” he mutters.
“You were the one watching that deck with jaig-eyes Stone, he didn’t even touch it until he grabbed his hand.” Thire feels the need to point out.
“It’s Fox,” Stone retorts, which, yeah. Fair enough.
Fox snorts.
He is, Thire notes with pleasure, looking less Apocolyptic Murder and Ruin, and more Wrathfilled Explosion on the scale. A definite improvement.
(And hopefully, someone will get Valor back in communication within a timely manner and without bad news. A miracle maybe, but Thire is a medic. They were practically built to cling to hope with every bit of determined strength and will left in their bones. And when that is drained dry, there is the well within their blood and their stubborness to draw from in spades.
It’s something people forget, that for all a medic might be painfully aware of the reality of a situation, unless they are specifically given a DNR order and the patient denies their consent to medical aid completely while in a sane and lucid state of mind and are not a danger to themselves, medics will go to the ends of the known universe and back again to save their patients. This tends to apply itself to everything else they do in life too.
Thire has never been able to bring himself to regret that.)
Fox rolls his eyes, “Like it was hard to beat you fuckers. If you have complaints though I’m perfectly fucking happy to kick your ass again.”
Fox’s smile is sharply amused and Stone grins, “Oh bring it on.”
They learn that fateful day that although Bral is very good at creatively engineering a winning situation in cards. Fox is exceedingly good at using that against them. And absolutely delighted to do so at every opportunity.
Bral comes out of it with a pact to never talk about the dignities lost in the name of their attempts to distract the Commander.
Fox comes out far less scarily close to snapping on someone and a little more grounded and less murder-inclined.
(They are all very, very, grateful when Valor finally gets back into contact two cycles later.)
Priority Alert
Neyo: [Image attached supfuckersilived.jpeg]
{Image shows a half-conscious Commander Neyo giving a kark-you-kindly to the holo as he sprawls across what looks to be Valor’s planning table. An Extremely irate medic is barely visible in the background.
The holo is slightly blurred from motion, one might, if they thought closely about it, take this implication to mean that the holotaker is well aware of the approaching doom and laughing at their Commander's future predicament.}
Fox: I am going to murder you slowly and painfully
Cody: Unprofessional
Rex: Disgraceful
Thorn: lmao, have fun with That Lecture
Stone: kot
Bly: Nope fully deserved, I read the brief, I hope his medic keeps him under lecture for as long as it takes the lesson to set in
Wolffe: lmao
Thorn: lmao
Ponds: kot
Gree: Could have sworn when I said “Don’t Die you asshole” that meant don’t die you asshole
Stone: huh, so it is all of you who are like that. Who knew
Fox: Worse than the mousedroids Stone, I’ll do it, I’ll find something.
Stone: Yes, yes, I hear you. Loud and clear, nothing from me boss, not a peep or a squeak
Thire: Oh wow, look at that. You can be quiet.
Stone: I hate you
Thire: <3 <3