Keep Me From Blowing Away

[Quarles P. Dage]

Continued from here... (https://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57666-Willin)




He sat in a rather comfortable chair on the viewing deck of Jovan station, watching as the strange-hulled ship that his son served aboard pulled away. It was certainly not the more normal-looking ships that he'd seen in his lifetime, but then again he'd never really paid much attention to the transports that flitted over the tops of Myomar's main starport.

The small table beside his chair held a dark caf, still steaming, and with a lonely-looking stir-stick leaning to one side.

Thing between him and Quentin were... better. Not great, but they were at least on speaking terms.

And now, alone in his thoughts, he wondered if the bridge could be rebuilt even further.

[Mags Sondeeta]

As the gods of ill fortune willed it, the café was slammed full. Mags had retrieved her usual morning staple of dark roast black caf and a few well-buttered toasts. Now, she had nowhere to take them in peace. All around were full tables full of chatting people that she had no interest in crossing paths with. At a glance, the common areas down the concourse didn't appear to offer better pickings, and the Twi'lek didn't relish the idea of gingerly carrying a cup of steaming caf and a plate through a bustling crowd.

There remained a solitary option. A single unoccupied chair at a table for two. In the seat opposite sat a silver-haired human, too busy staring at null space on the table just past his caf than actually drinking it. Mags' lekku drew up along her collar as she considered her options. Dignity trumped pride today.

"Ees anyone else seeting at zis seat?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Pulling his eyes away from the grand windows that afforded a stunning view of the glittering stars beyond as well as the slowly ambling hulk of Khera'Va'ss'io as it banked away, Quarles looked to the owner of the voice that had posed a question. A half-moment passed before he immediately straightened up in his seat, one hand going out to gesture to the empty chair across from the minimal table.

"Of course!"

At the last moment he smiled, a forced thing that seemed to shift into a genuine expression. Here was a woman simply looking for a place to sit and enjoy her morning, and he would certainly not deny her that.

"Please, sit."

[Mags Sondeeta]

The Twi'lek's expression held a little wariness. Whoever the human was, he seemed to have the kind of effervescent personality that trended toward cheerfulness for no damned reason. That in and of itself boded poorly. Still, she'd committed this far already.

Mags hooked a toe of one of her heavy boots under the leg of the nearest chair, dragging it free from the table enough for her to sit. She did so, easing her breakfast down as she sat. Now, she faced a second problem. Without a news flimsi or some other reading material, there wasn't much in the way to set up barriers to what was probably inevitable conversation. She reached into the breast pocket of her jacket, pulling out a rumpled box of cigarettes. The lid was deftly flipped up as she pressed the box up to her mouth, withdrawing with one pressed between her lips. One hand returned the box as the second sparked a pen lighter briefly to the tip.

So far, so good. Mags exhaled through her nose as she looked at the man across from her, while doing her best to not appear to be looking at the man across from her. Despite the age, he wasn't ugly. There was always that.

[Quarles P. Dage]

With one last look to the diminishing form of the Alliance warship, Quarles let out a final breath of air, and his shoulders seemed to settle with the exhalation as he returned his attentions to his caf. He'd never really had the stuff with all of the fancy creamers that Bernice loved; instead he much more enjoyed it on its own. There was nothing that a caf bean needed. It already had everything it needed.

One hand moving to wrap around his mug, the elder Dage sent a brief look to his table-mate.

"I'd say that that's a bad habit you've got there, but a girl wears boots like that, and she's most likely not the kind to take the advice."

There was no missing those clod-hoppers.

Instead, his smile returned, this time a bit gentler as he extended her the courtesy of a nod as he leaned back in his seat.

"Besides," his eyes returned to the massive panes of transparisteel before them, "... no one likes pithy remarks while trying to have breakfast."

[Mags Sondeeta]

The inevitable conversation happened, but the silver lining was that the human was self-aware enough to cut out the frivolity. That made him, at worst, better than most humans she knew. Her lekku lost a degree of their rigidity, easing down slightly below her collarbone.

"Eef zees ees what kills me," Mags held her cigarette for emphasis a moment before drawing on it again, "zen I must 'ave done somezing right. I 'ave plenty of bad habits. Zees one ees innocent."

She followed his eyes, which lingered on the departing cruiser longer than was probably coincidental.

"Who ees eet?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

She was perceptive, and Quarles grimaced slightly as he realized that his need to see any last glimpse of his son's current ship made it apparent that he was a bit too attached to watching a cruiser depart. His hand brought the mug up, and he took a tentative sip. The grimace deepened for only a moment, but it was a strange sort of satisfied expression, manifested in the universal baring of teeth at the end.

"A son. Serves aboard it," the mug was lifted then, to gesture to the old warcruiser.

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mags cut her eyes towards the waning engine glow, ashing her cigarette as she began to dredge the corner of a piece of toast along the surface of her caf.

"'Oo are seeing 'eem off, zen?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Well, in a manner of speaking I s'pose."

It was a strange thing to consider, and he only dwelt on the notion for half of a heartbeat.

"Not much love lost between us, but we're trying to mend our fences."

Again that strange forced-but-not-forced smile, and he took another sip. Turning back to his rather unorthodox breakfast partner, he gestured to the toast that she was still pulling through the top layers of her own caf.

"Never seen that trick before. Usually I just take a biscuit and dip it into some dewback buttermilk."

[Mags Sondeeta]

The tension returned to lekku. Mags was annoyed that she was visible enough that her behavior was now a talking point, but she supposed she deserved it for doing the same to him. At least her facial expression maintained, if not a neutral, a resting state of perturbedness.

"Zat sounds 'orrible."

She bit demurely into the leading edge of caf-sopped toast, swallowing before continuing.

"But zen, ze most enduring 'abits come from being used to zeengs, whezzer zey are pleasant or no. Zees, eet was a good breakfast growing up, during ze intifada. Ze caf, eet was barely caf at all. Ze bread, eef it was not stale eet was moldy, or maybe 'alf sawdust eef ze flour was scarce. Ze only zeeng zat was always genuine was ze butter, because eet came from ze blurrgs we rode."

Mags' frown deepened some, and she washed it away with a sip of caf. Much better than the drink of her bitter youth, but there was something missing from it even though it tasted better.

"When ze fence was not mended, deed eet upset 'oo less when 'e left?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"The last time I was around when he left was when that fence was torn down."

Words spoken quietly, with a level voice. It was not a scolding tone, just an honest one. His eyes tracked away to look back out to the viewing panels. A few quiet moments passed before he sighed, and lifted his mug up to take yet another sip.

"But that is in the past," his lips peeled back over his teeth as he swallowed, and the cup was returned to the table as he settled himself a little bit more.

"Now... now it's different."

He gave a smile then, sending it over to the Twi'Lek with a sidelong look.

"Life and caf always changes, no matter how much we are used to how it was."

[Mags Sondeeta]

The folksy line rang corny, but it was true enough. Mags sucked down another draw from her cigarette, and reluctantly nodded.

"I learned zat early. My fazzer, 'e said nozzing of eet. 'E put a gun een my 'and when I was five. Zat was one of ze first zeengs I remember 'im teaching me."

Her eyes downturned, finding a convenient excuse in her coffee, which she sipped.

"Your son, I think 'e ees lucky ze fence ees on ze mend."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Life on Myomar was a sheltered one, and Quarles gave the woman a second, sideways look. She had the look of someone who'd looked too hard at too many sunsets.

"A gun at five, eh."

His hand cradled his mug.

"Sounds about how things were for me and my old man. Except, I've a notion that for you it wasn't to put down old and sick shaak."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mags shook her head, if only to force her back to making eye contact.

"No. My mozzer, my fazzer, zey were not farmers. I 'ave ze pictures to show. Zey leeved wizzout want. Until ze droids came."

She mashed the remnants of her cigarette firmly in the base of the ash tray.

"I was three years old zen. Like 'oo say, everyzing changes."

[Quarles P. Dage]

He held her eyes for only a moment, then turned back to the vista of space before them. A long breath in, then out once more.

"And now? Are things like you thought they would be?"

For himself, he knew that the here and now was decidedly not what he had expected. Bernice passed on, leaving him alone. His eldest more or less following in his footsteps, his daughter doing her own thing, and Samus firmly entrenched in the Alliance. A year ago, he would have never thought he'd be off of Myomar, still dealing with the loss of his wife in the strangest of ways. Or perhaps they were the ways that were necessary?

No.

A year ago, he would've said that his life would be mostly unchanged. Bernice would be on the porch, sitting in her chair with her cup of black caf and a datapad with the latest galactic news reports while he was out making sure that the fences were in one piece. He'd trundle back to the house, up those steps, and she would have a smile ready for him and a kiss to his cheek.

Unconsciously he lifted his free hand to lightly rub along his cheek, where that kiss would've been given.

[Mags Sondeeta]

That was a lot to process in a single question, and the Twi'lek leaned back in her chair, unconsciously running the blade of her hand along one lekku as she internally debated what to say if anything at all.

"Ze droids left. Zen ze Empire came. My mozzer disappeared twenty years ago. My fazzer, 'e ees so obsessed weeth 'olding onto what ees left of our 'ome, I 'ardly recognize 'im anymore. Eef I've learned anyzeeng, eet's zat it does no matter what I zeenk zeengs should be. Zey just are. Wishing zat zey weren't ees just a waste of time. Just like staring out zat weendow, eet won't bring 'eem back any sooner."

Mags tore at the toast on her plate, but didn't eat any, She just pushed the torn pieces around on the dish as a way to occupy her hands.


"But I understand why 'oo do eet."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"It's therapeutic," came the immediate answer.

"Some might think it unhealthy, but in a way it helps. I used to think that my wife and I would be together until the both of us passed on at the same time - whenever that might be."

The hand at his cheek shifted then, to scratch at an unseen itch on his chin.

"But that's not how it worked out for me, so now I'm sitting here, watching my youngest boy strike off on an Alliance warship. Meanwhile I'm still here, waiting for another day before my own flight back home to an empty house."

He frowned then, eyes going down to halfway focus on the decking below his booted feet.

"At least I've got closure, in that my wife passed on. I don't envy you the unknown of wondering what happened to your mother."

[Mags Sondeeta]

Mission creep was real. She hadn't asked for any of this. All Mags wanted was a seat and breakfast in peace. The old man, well-meaning he may have been, was touching on notes that were too familiar.

"Eet ees easier for me to zeenk zat she ees dead, so zat ees 'ow I see eet. 'Ope wizzout reason will keell me faster zan ze cigarettes."

Still, the expression on her face betrayed Mags. There was a glint of doubt and something almost sad. She swallowed hard, turning to stone again as she took another drink.

"I envy 'oo for ze closure. Eet's exhausting to pretend."

Mags took another quick gulp to finish her caf and stood suddenly.

"Excuse me."

She turned to make an abrupt exit, but something held her back for a moment. She grudgingly turned back to the old man.

"'Oo should write to 'im. Even eef 'e ees too busy to do eet, or too proud to ask."

[Quarles P. Dage]

It was a recommendation that had truthfully never occurred to him, and the short bout of silence was indication enough that her words had struck a cord within.

"I'll do that, I think," he finally ventured as she made her sudden departure. A strange one, but not without a smart bit of good advice.

He watched her leave, disappearing into the milling crowds beyond. Another moment passed, and Quarles returned to the window to stare, occasionally sipping his caf.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

With Mags' departure, a seat was opened in the busy café, which was a hot commodity for the half dozen or so hangers-on with their orders looking to sit. Some came as a pair or as a group, so they weren't interested in a single free seat. However, someone eventually braved the opportunity.

"jIss anjyone ssjittjing herre?"

Madame Maillanarro didn't dress in half measure. Even at this time of galactic standard morning, the Cizeri wore the multi-layered silken mantles, belts, ribbons, and trusses of a Rrou'fai above her station. Her chestnut hair was done up, revealing the bangles and studs adorning her ears. Despite being a large woman, her breakfast certainly wasn't befitting. The only items on her tray were a cup of tea, and a poached egg in a cup.

[Quarles P. Dage]

Once more taken by surprise, he turned to look at the owner of the voice now inquiring about the empty seat at his table. And again, he smiled broadly out of habit and genteel manners.

"Oh! No, no one is," he made a gesture with his hand that the woman sit, "... please, sit if you wish."

The woman was dressed in a style that he wasn't exactly familiar with, but from his small and rather recent exposure to Cizerack, it seemed in keeping with their tastes. She apepared regal, like royalty even, and for a strange half-second, Quarles almost felt under-dressed in his old denim trousers and white button-up. The dark jacket he would've normally had on was draped over the back of his own chair, and briefly he entertained the thought of pulling it back on to appear somewhat presentable with such a table-mate.

Instead, he took another sip from his caf.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

She gave an appreciative nod of her head, the bangles at her ears clinking slightly.

"Thank jyou."

The Madame eased in to sit. Rather than walling herself off as Mags did, Kalleeiha extended a hand in greeting as per the human custom.

"Mjy name jiss Kalleeiha Maillanaarro."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Instantly the woman dispelled any notions that she might be as guarded as the Twi-Lek girl, and Quarles gave an easy smile as he took her offered hand. It was refreshing, and just a bit reassuring.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am. I'm Quarles."

Her hand was soft, a far cry from his calloused palms.

And, as if remembering himself, he spoke once more.

"Quarles Dage."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

She was fast becoming a fan of the human style of greeting. Air kisses told little. The grasping of hands spoke as much as words. She gave a reciprocating squeeze, feeling the callouses that met her. And his accent? She was hardly an expert on the human tongue, but that particular drawl she'd not heard before.

"Arr Dage. jI haven't sseen jyou herre beforre. jIf no one hass done sso jyet, let me be the fjirrsst to ssajy ja irra korra'nai."

She allowed Quarles' hand to release, and she returned to the warm solace of her teacup.

[Quarles P. Dage]

'Ja irra korra'nai'. It was a greeting and welcoming, that much he could at least discern, and Quarles let his smile widen. It was a lovely gesture.

"It's my first time here, yes Ma'am."

Ever the gentleman, he was hard-pressed to show anything but good manners. It was how he'd been raised, after all.

Came to see my boy, and now he's off again, so I'm enjoying a caf and some free time before my own flight leaves."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"Sso ssoon?"

The Madame ventured her teacup to her lips, pausing just short of a sip as she gauged the temperature still slightly too hot to venture further. She settled for hovering her nose over, letting the aromatics do their work.

"And wherre doess a man wjith ssuch an jinterrestjing accent call home?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Interesting accent? Did he have an accent? It was puzzling to consider in that moment, and Quarles wet his lips.

"Well, uh, Myomar, actually. Nowhere special, but it's home all the same."

Reaching up to adjust his glasses, the elder Dage at least offered a return nod to her.

"And you?"

He didn't want to assume that she was royalty, but to him she certainly appeared as such.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

His warning was correct. She hadn't heard of Myomar at all, much less had an idea of what corner of the galaxy to look to find such a place. Still, that was the interesting quirk with humans. They spread everywhere, and were from everywhere.

"Carshoulis, love. Hearrt of the cjivjiljized galaxjy."

She waited a beat, than pointed to the window.

"Brrjightesst pojint of ljight jin that djirrectjion. jIn galactjic terrmss, jusst acrrosss the sstrreet. jYou've...neverr been?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh heavens, no. I generally stay at home and take care of the business there."

He took a sip from his caf.

"Doesn't leave much time for vacations or trips away, to be honest."

There was always more to his aversion to traveling, and thankfully Bernice had shared his homebody tendencies. The two of them had found the most of their joy in simply staying in, sharing the soft contours of the nerfhide lounger that had been their first purchase after marrying. In front of them had always been a warm fire or a summertime spread that they could share. When the children were young, it was a magical time.

But, all of the memories were just that. Memories of times gone by. Now, he was on Jovan Station, the bearer of heartbreaking news that had to be delivered. At the very least Quentin was willing to keep open the lines of communication that had once been closed off.

"Sometimes though, if you love what you do, there's not much need for getting away."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"Oh, jI agrree wholehearrtedly. The companjy alwajyss gjivess wajy to the ssettjing."

Kalleeiha blew the crown of steam away from her tea, testing it by briefly touching her lip to the rim of her cup. Not yet.

"Can jI make a confesssjion? jI'm asss farr awajy frrom home asss jI've everr been beforre."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Well! That makes two of us, then!"

He at least didn't feel alone in that, and Quarles leaned back in his seat as he set his eyes back toward the expanse before them.

"Are you visiting the station as well... ?"

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

She shook her head slightly, causing her ear bangles to jingle.

"No, thjiss jiss morre of a ssemji-perrmanent sstajy. jI rrun the tea housse on the concourrsse. Good bussjinesss. We'rre not the onljy homessjick ssoulss. jIt'ss good to have companjy, and jI help facjiljitate that."

[Quarles P. Dage]

A teahouse? It was enough to make him envision a quiet nook in a corner of the merchant's concourse, populated by tables and chairs and a host of patrons happily taking in aromatic teas - much like the kind that Mrs. Maillanaarro herself now had. And if he was to go by her manner of dress, he guessed that the decor was opulent yet calming all at once.

"That sounds rather nice, actually."

Again his mind took him to a serene place of quiet conversation and satisfaction, and he couldn't help the wistful smile that pulled his lips back. The last time he and Bernice had spent time quietly had been a month previous. They'd been sat in that old nerfhide lounger, sipping caf and nibbling on cured slices of rota, with crackers and aged chedik cheese pulled from the basement.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"A pjitjy that jyou'rre leavjing sso ssoon. jIt'ss a wonderrful ljittle place to meet all ssorrtss of people. Not that jyou can't do that herre, of courrsse."

She paused, finally taking a fulsome sip of tea.

"Ahh."

Returning to her company, the Madame eased her cup to the table.

"Tell me about Mjyomarr, Arr Dage. jI don't get out much, jit'ss njice to trravel vjicarrjioussljy."

[Quarles P. Dage]

There was a warmth that seemed to spread out from his smile at the thought of the question posed, and Quarles let his head angle up to stare towards the vaulted ceiling high above.

"It's quiet," he finally started.

"We don't have a lot of exports, and generally take care of ourselves. Plains and mountains, nothing too extreme unless you count the winters. I've seen it get so cold that entire herds freeze; though, that hasn't happened in a while. The last few winters have been cold, but nothing unbearable. Summers are bright and warm, but not oppressive. The rains mostly come about in the growing seasons, and in the Autumn months."

A few moments of silence passed before he went on.

"Right now - " a quick look to his watch that he'd never adjusted before leaving home - "... it's about midday. My eldest is most likely moving the kurato sheep to their second pastures. He'll also be switching over the inak to the mountain passes so they can graze the higher altitude grass to fatten them up."

His features fell somewhat then.

"It's nothing glamorous, but it's a living and it's... well, it's just perfect."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jI had a feeljing jyou werre a rrancherr." Her smile broadened a bit."

A moment passed, and Kalleeiha revealed her tell.

"jYourr handss. jI met a man frrom Fey'dann a long tjime ago. He had the ssame callouss overr the fjingerr therre. Ssomethjing about how he held the rrope orr the rrejignss orr ssomethjing."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Reigns."

It came out naturally, as he knew exactly the cause of the callous she spoke of.

Whether one came from Myomar or some other planet that held the same tendencies, there was always a constant.

"If the callous is here," both hands came up, the finger of one running along the ridge of the index finger of the other in the same area that she'd spoken of, "... then it's because he held reigns. Sometimes a lasso can do it, but for the most part it's because he was riding."

His hand flipped, and he showed the knife-edge of his palm, also studded with rough callouses.

"If he's got these here also, then it's definitely reigns."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Kalleeiha leaned forward to examine the offered hand. She brushed the pad of her soft thumb over the ridge, feeling its craggy inflexibility.

"jI ljike that. jIt'ss beautjiful."

Dimples appeared at the periphery of her smile.

"jI ljiked jit wjith the man frrom Fey'dann too. What do jyou rrjide?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

He blinked, not exactly sure how to take the compliment. Slowly pulling his hand away, Quarles sighed as he focused on her last question.

"It's a riding animal native to Myomar, called an aurluk. Been told they're some offshoot of guarlara (https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Guarlara/Legends)."

He remembered seeing pictures of guarlaras in holobooks when he was young.

"Nothing near as fancy as the Naboo breeds, but they're beautiful enough in their own way."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

He demurred, as humans often did. Kalleeiha took no insult from it.

"jI'm ssurre jif jI ssaw a holo, jI'd jinsstantljy know jit, but ji hope jyou'll excusse a cjitjy gjirrl herr jignorrance."

The madame pierced the poached egg with a spoon, peeling the white away in a noncommittal act.

"What'ss jit ljike?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"About like any animal that's meant for riding," he answered easily while taking another sip of caf.

Lips pulling back over the fronts of his teeth, Quarles set the mug down.

"But you, what brings you from... Carshoulis... " he dearly hoped that his pronunciation was as close to hers as possible, "... to this station?"

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Kalleeiha deflected with a sip of tea. She daubed her lips with the corner of her napkin to give her another moment to consider an answer to a delicate question.

"The ansswerr to that quesstjion majy not be ssatjissfjyjing. Therre arre a lot of loneljy people jin sspace. jI have a talent forr eassjing loneljinesss, well, forr a whjile at leasst."

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Oh?"

Easing loneliness... that could mean anything.

"Something like a community center?"

There was one such place back home, where many folks went to spend time with others; every week there was dancing, and most times there were home-grown bands playing. Mostly covers of the more popular Core songs, but there were a few that had put together playlists of their own original works. Those were always the funnest nights, as everyone seemed to squeeze into the communal building to hear. Locally brewed beers and even a few home-stilled liquors came out, and everyone had a good time. It was wholesome and plain, and it was comfortable.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jYess, jusst ljike that."

Her ears perked, and the Madame leaned in slightly, propping her elbows on the table.

"A place forr men and women to meet afterr worrk, mjingle, couple, and rrelax. Mosstljy jI'm jusst therre to facjiljitate everrjythjing. A good hosstesss."

[Quarles P. Dage]

He nodded in response, his smile ever-present.

"Sounds like a wonderful place."

He finished the last of his caf, letting out a long breath after swallowing.

"Perhaps the next time I'm visiting this station, I should pay a visit."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jI'd be honorred to have jyou asss a guesst, Arr Dage."

There was something there in that moment as he finished his caf. A sigh. A certain look.

"jI hope jI'm not jimpossjing bjy asskjing, but arre jyou okajy? We've onljy jusst met, but jI've sseen that look beforre. jIf jyou want to talk about jit, jI'm a good ljisstenerr."

[Quarles P. Dage]

Talking with strangers about such personal matters had never been something that he did. But, here on Jovan Station, it seemed that he'd found himself opening up to those that he was sure he'd never see again. He'd certainly done so with the Twi-Lek woman, despite her brusque and curt nature. It was something that he'd not expected to happen, to say the least. And now, here was another; though, Mrs. Maillanaarro seemed for more willing in the matter. It was strange, to be encouraged to speak of his own worries and hurts.

"I... wouldn't want to impose," he resisted weakly.

Looking to his empty mug, Quarles moved to set it down on the table.

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jYou'rre not jimpossjing. Mjy alterrnatjive jiss that jI take mjy brreakfasst alone, and that makess the experrjience all the morre bland."

She reached to his side of the table, putting her hand on his mug but not making a motion to move it.

"Black caf?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

It was as though she'd read his mind, and Quarles blinked for just a moment before nodding.

"... yes, actually."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

Kalleeiha's grin widened slightly.

"jI had a feeljing. Neverr had a tasste forr jit mjysself, but jyou sseem jusst the tjype. Can jI bujy jyou the next one?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

For a bit longer he was struck speechless, but it didn't last long as he finally collected himself.

"Well, I'd hate for you to be out of pocket, Ma'am... "

Her kind smile was enough to assuage his misgivings, and Quarles relented.

"But if you would like, I will happily accept."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

The Madame wordlessly took Dage's mug, returning to the counter to tend to the matter.

A few minutes later, she returned, placing a refreshed and steaming mug in front of the human.

"Now," she again took her seat, testing the temperature of her tea, which was thankfully still warm enough to be pleasant, "what'ss trroubljing jyou?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

Taking back the mug she'd so graciously refilled, Quarles let out a long breath as he turned his eyes back to the view before them. It really was beautiful, and for the first time he found himself starting to understand why Quentin loved it.

"It's not so much that anything is troubling me," he finally started after a tentative sip.

"I would say that it's more an issue of readjusting."

The mug was set on the table between them. Gone was the previous easy smile; in its' place was a somber expression.

"It seems that I find myself in the unenviable position of a... widower."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

There was no sign of hand-wringing emotional commiseration. No look of pity met the Madame's expression. She maintained a neutral expression as she listened.

"How long hass jit been?"

[Quarles P. Dage]

"Too long."

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, but far from being some sort of call for companionship, they were much more akin to the sorrowful lilt of someone who held the deep-seated wish to rejoin their loved one.

One hand cradled his refilled caf.

"I am sorry, Ma'am. I don't mean to hang my worries on you."

His eyes went to the stars and their vastness.

"I'm sure you've enough to wrangle, what with your community center here, and all."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"Ssometjimess jit helpss to be worrrjied overr, jif onljy forr a ljittle whjile. jI know."

The Madame drew in a thoughtful breath, letting her shoulders rise then slowly fall.

"jYou assked me what brrought me herre frrom Carshoulis, and jI wassn't completeljy honesst about that. Mjy lasst few jyearrss therre werre loneljy, terrrjibljy loneljy. jI don't mean that jI djidn't have frjiendss, acquajintancess, jI've neverr had a sshorrtage of thosse. But jI became a wjidow on Carshoulis - twjice."

[Quarles P. Dage]

With sombre understanding he dipped his head.

"Then you've known the heartbreak twice over."

He sipped from his caf, then held it in his lap as his eyes went back tot he stars.

"... and here I am burdening you with ugly memories."

He made a face, let out a long breath, and took another tentative level from the hot drink.

"I'm sorry."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

He'd misunderstood and Kalleeiha shook her head.

"No, jit's not that wajy at all. Am jI gojing to tell jyou that jI don't hurrt overr lossjing them? No. jI won't get overr that. jIf jyou love them, jyou neverr wjill. But jI'm alsso not brroken. Ssometjimess jit hurrtss, trrue, but jI thjink about everrjythjing good we djid togetherr, and jI'm all the rrjicherr forr jit. Honesstljy, jit helpss to talk ljike thjiss. Ssometjimess a ljittle hurrt jiss okajy."

[Quarles P. Dage]

He sat in silence, digesting her words. They made sense, and he couldn't help but nod.

A slightly rueful grin that seemed to also be a grimace flitted across his features, and he took yet another sip of his caf.

"This station is very lucky to have you, Ma'am."

[Kalleeiha Maillanaarro]

"jYourr sson jiss luckjy to have jyou, Arr Dage."

The Madame sipped her tea and set it aside.

"jI neverr had cubss. That moment hass passsed. But jI thjink jI'm a good enough judge of charracterr to know a good parrent when jI ssee one."

[Quarles P. Dage]

She was kind, and he nodded graciously in turn before looking back to the stars.

"I've found, over the years," he held his mug, letting his eyes pass from star to star, "... that having little ones doesn't necessarily make a parent."

Finally, he gave a heh, and a smile as he turned to look at her. His offhand moved up to tap a fingertip on his chest, just above his heart.

"It's what's in here."