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Darth Stolas

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The space station Morgan had just finished landing on was just the same as he remembered. Security was a little tighter but as usual the young Sith had the proper kinds of codes and phrases to get in. He was allowed to be there after all, he should.

He stepped off the Karma Chameleon, black boots clanking softly against the metal exit ramp. He'd gone for simple trousers tucked into boots, leather utility belt with a small Sith insignia, and a simple black long-sleeve form fit shirt. The small electrum studs in each ear might garner some small attention, but he also wasn't trying to blend in completely. Even if he wasn't trained on this particular station he certainly walked like he was, straight-backed and self assured in military fashion and offering a respectful nod to those in charge that he passed.

It'd be no surprise to anyone that he wasn't here for the sights. It was practically a training facility, not much to see for most. Morgan was on the station to meet up with another Sith to brief and prepare for a particular task of theirs. A difficult one, but potentially quite profitable. One that required patience and a cool head. That did unfortunately narrow down the potential candidates among the Sith quite a bit, but it seemed the other one and Morgan himself had something of a 'mutual friend' so to speak. All the better to get the work done.

Morgan turned the corner down a hallway, then into an open set of double doors that led to a small briefing room with an active holoprojector in the center. His boot heals clacked sharpish as he slid smoothly into attention and offered a short bow to the taskmaster arranging things for the mission at hand. An older format for the gesture, but he wasn't trained here and it worked well enough.


"Morgan Ali reporting. Sir."


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Emryc Thorne

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Emryc had been off on missions for the greater part of the year. He was still adjusting to the different gravities on different planets and the strange terrain. The first portion of his life was spent exclusively on the station and he became an impressive pilot before he had ever set foot on a planet. He had been summoned back not long after the assault on Ajan Kloss to regroup before new missions were assigned.

He had only been back for a week when his name had come up. He was lying on his bunk bed, the same he had for as long as he could remember, reading a comic he managed to smuggle in. It was about the adventures of Preef Callo fighting a zillo beast. He closed the comic when his comlink went off, stashing it away out of sight before he got dressed.

It didn’t take him long to find his way towards the briefing room. The task master hadn’t even looked up when he entered and offered a salute. Emryc’s gaze was trained ahead the entire time. The man was silent for a moment before he finally looked up, “Thorne, would like you to meet Morgan Ali,” He said simply, “You two have been assigned a mission on Bespin. The industry there is one we absolutely need to secure if we want to expand our influence in the Outer Rim.”

Emryc used that moment to finally turn to look at his mission partner. The man was very slightly taller than himself, and Emryc's gaze lingered on the pointy ears. It wasn’t often that he found others that had similar features. He had never seen Morgan before - mainly because he wouldn’t have forgotten if he had.

“Is there anything else, Sir?” He began while looking at Morgan but then slowly shifted his head to look at the man.


@Mr. Teatime
 

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Eyes forward and expression neutral was how Emryc found Morgan when he entered and was introduced by the taskmaster. He nodded slightly when the older man explained the purpose of their presence on the station and the mission ahead. Morgan had already known where they were going, but the details were kept hush-hush to everyone and to be gone over in this very briefing room.

Emryc turned to look at him and he was looked at it turn, Morgan's head turning to look over the other Sith. His eyes were sharp and piercing, like a bird of prey, and for a moment or two it might seem like he was looking through him rather than at him. Then his micro-expression shifted back to neutral like it had never been there at all. His left eyebrow raised barely a centimeter at the other Sith and then he gave a sly wink before turning back to look at the taskmaster, just a moment before the man looked up to address them both.


"Keep it as quiet as possible and minimize evidence of Sith involvement. We don't want to draw outside attention." Here the man meant not just Jedi or Free Worlds assets, but anyone not directly involved in the task. The fewer people knew about it and the less commotion it caused, the lower the chances of drawing unwanted attention before they had a firm grasp on things. Sensible.

"You both have access to task docs. Go over them, depart as soon as possible. That is all." He moved to stand up fully and depart without a further word and Morgan offered a half-bow as before as he passed, still in that old-fashioned way of his, then turned away as the door closed behind the taskmaster.

His face and demeanor relaxed the instant the door shut behind the taskmaster and, though still straight-backed, moved far more fluidly as he stepped over to the central holographic table to start bringing up task documentation. His fingers danced lazily across the controls, and though his eyes weren't facing Emryc he was still watching. He usually was.


"Emryc Thorne, yes? You've been busy, I hear. I admire your work."

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While Morgan’s demeanor relaxed, Emryc’s remained more or less the same. He wasn’t truly relaxed till he was off the base. Military behavior was ingrained into his mind to where it was instinct now. He didn’t slouch, didn’t drag his feet, always held his head up high. At this point he didn’t have to actively think about it.

Emryc joined Morgan at the table, looking at the projection, rapidly reading the task. It also came with a map and their targets. Silver eyes narrowed just slightly as he picked up on how centrally located their target was. They were supposed to do this without revealing their Sith nature at all? This would also mean they had to dress a certain way.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Morgan spoke. Unlike him, Emryc actually glanced over, quietly surveying the other man for a moment, “I wish I could say the same, but admittedly I’ve never heard of you,” He said dryly. Morgan and the nature of his work had been purposely covert.

Emryc’s eyes turned back to the images, “Our first challenge will be to get a ship that has cleared transponder codes,” His own ship allowed him passage into FWA territory, but he had to often take a different ship for Outer Rim jobs. He glanced up at the man again, “Wouldn’t happen to have such a ship handy, would you?”

@Mr. Teatime
 

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A relaxed half-grin crossed Morgan's face. Emryc wasn't the the first one to say that, almost line for line. Funny how that worked out.

"Heh, not surprising. The work I do isn't worth special notice, but it's worth doing all the same," he replied simply, then removed a datapad from his belt and connected it to the holotable console. "Yes, but wrong kind. I've arranged for a burner ship on Terminus, codes cleared to land on the city." Finding the right ship had been irritating, but it certainly wasn't an impossible task. Just something that took time, observation, and a call or two to the right kinds of people. "The Lady Lucy, Kazellis-class, transporting diamonds from Skye. Easy in, limited oversight, hard to trace bribe material. Any objection?"

Morgan disconnected the pad, now with a sequence-locked copy of all information and orders, and clipped it back to his belt. The original would be split and compressed after the two left, remaining as such until the recovery code was input, hidden in the databanks from anyone who wasn't in charge of this station. Some Sith had a bad habit of getting into things they ought not to. Best to be quiet about delicate ops. The young Sith then turned to look at Emryc directly and gave him a more complete and straight-forward once over.

"I'm sure you heard, but I'm Morgan Ali. Anchante, the pleasure is mine," he bowed again, a short but less formal thing, and still in that old fashioned style. "So, to yours, or mine?" he asked, pausing for a solid second or two.

"Ship, that is."


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Emryc silently observed Morgan as he mentioned details about the burner ship. There was no change in expression the entire time, and he simply shook his head when asked if there were objections. He also didn’t miss the bit about not working on anything noteworthy to explain his name being relatively unknown. Emryc’s gaze met his, the silver pools always analyzing and clashing against the equally challenging eyes that looked back at him.

“My ship,” He said curtly as he observed the old fashioned bow Morgan did. It was something he had seen in practice from some of the much older Sith trainers. Emryc took a moment to break off to pack his bags, Preef Callo comics included along with his music remixes. He also packed his grain alcohols as liked to bring on journeys.

He met Morgan a few moments later, leading him towards the launch bay that had his ship in it. Emryc walked in silence for a moment, allowing the ramp to open before he walked in. His ship was meticulously clean, but the walls were entirely packed with shelves full of books behind a transparent barrier. There was the faint scent of incense that lingered in the air from his prayers.

Emryc plopped down in his seat in the cockpit, disengaging the ship from the docking station. They slowly coasted out before he turned and began the approach to exit into space. Emryc revved up the engines, the ship being cleared before he pushed forth to shoot out of the station.

It wasn’t until then that he visibly relaxed. He reached over to draw out a cigarra, popping one into his mouth before offering Morgan one if he pleased. He lit the cigarra and exhaled the smoke, gazing ahead at the stars for a moment before they made a jump, “You going to cut the bullshit and tell me what other details you know about the mission in advance or are we going to slow roll this?” He asked without looking at Morgan. The burner ship arrangement was far too impeccable and convenient.

@Mr. Teatime
 

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As Morgan's bright gold stared back into Emryc's flinty silver, for a fraction of a moment, they flicked over Emryc's right shoulder and then back again without a change in expression. Then he nodded in acquiescence to Emryc's assertion they use his ship. As expected, he'd been given the option to assert control over his space and he'd taken it.

As the other Sith gathered his things Morgan contacted the Karma Chameleon for Dante to retrieve his equipment and meet him at the proper hangar bay. Morgan looked casually around the ship, taking in the details. Clean, the smell of incense both old and new, the faintest smell of iron in the background. An impressive collection of tomes, the titles of which he looked over briefly on his way past, particularly any related to the old Drastian Empire and their lineage.

Dante dropped the box of stuff in a corner somewhere and perched upon it like some kind of mushroom-shaped bird, returning to standby mode. Morgan himself followed Emryc to the cockpit and made himself comfortable in a seat, silently accepting the proffered cigarra and lighting it with a small electric thing from his belt. He exhaled slow and smooth, the wisps of coiling smoke entwining with the cloud from Emryc. Then the other Sith spoke and drew Morgan's eyes and attention back over to him.


"Well, since you asked," he began breezily, retrieving a half-size datapad from a pouch pocket and offering it over. It contained various secondary tidbits of information and intel not in the original mission doc, dated from various times but all relatively recent. "You shall receive. The ship buys us access to Bespin, but it will also likely draw attention from a member of the corporate advisory council buying from the previous owner, which could go either way. The general population isn't pro-Empire which is why this needs to be stealth. Forced takeover has historically gone very poorly." He took a drag from the cigarra and allowed the cooled smoke to pool lazily from between his lips before speaking again.

"Oh, also. A representative of the Free Worlds might show up. Any questions so far?"



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Morgan enjoyed sharing the mission details a bit too much, dangling in front of him how he knew more. Emryc kept his gaze trained ahead, knowing full well his eyes had a tendency to betray his thoughts at times. Nevertheless, he found it amusing and almost endearing that the man gleefully took out a datapad that he somehow procured. Emryc listened in silence, smoke pluming out of his nostrils. They had already jumped into hyperspace by the time his explanation ended.

There was nothing but silence between them for a moment as Emryc stared vacantly. Morgan had skirted past divulging the how part of the question and Emryc decided he would file that away for now. The man was more clued in than he was and normally that would irk him. Emryc wanted to instead see how Morgan played the cards he was dealt.

Emryc trusted in himself to smoothtalk his way out of most situations. Even then, however, a FWA representative may pose a problem. They would absolutely have to dress differently - they both looked entirely too obvious still.

“You ever nick your tongue when you eat with those fangs?” He asked after a long moment of silence, ashing the cigarra before taking another draw.

@Mr. Teatime
 

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Golden eyes leisurely looked over to Emryc when he asked his clearly very innocent question, only half facing in his direction. The other Sith stared straight ahead despite otherwise losing tension leaving the station behind. He'd looked into Morgan's eyes earlier, strong and challenging. He was doing it intentionally. How very interesting.

Quite casually, the young man let out a cascade of cooled smoke, flexible tongue dragging idly across a fang in a lazy grin.
"Mine? No, never. Do you often bite your tongue?" he replied in a conversational tone, his eyes briefly flicking over Emryc's right shoulder before moving to observe his fingernails. He was anticipating a fun and interactive trip with this particular Sith. He wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs but he wasn't boring.

It also helped he wasn't another saber-swinging meathead, at least on first impression. The military folks coming out of that station were certainly efficient, but they were soldiers. Very respectable, very predictable. This one? Obviously perceptive. He'd made to look away but was still paying attention to little details. Like a cat that had found a new curiosity Morgan had very suddenly become far more interested in Emryc than he had only fifteen minutes ago.


"Something of a scholar, are you?"


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Hyperspace was a mesmerizing vortex that seemed to consume all of his attention. Emryc could feel Morgan’s eyes on him, and he knew they were as methodical and calculating as ever. He was looking for chinks in the armor, the slightest little cracks that existed above an otherwise comfortable demeanor. It was subtle, but Emryc didn’t miss it, not with his keen ears picking up every move and shift from the other man.

“I do often bite my tongue,” Emryc said, drawing in from the cigarra again. He didn’t elaborate beyond that, letting Morgan draw whatever conclusion he pleased. Smoke plumed from his nostrils, giving him a nice fix that traveled up to his head. Emryc never hid when he found someone or something entertaining and this man certainly held his attention. He held it very lightly, however, just enough to have Emryc teeter on the edge between listening and withdrawing to his own mind.

The mention about being a scholar, however, grasped his attention with a vice grip. He reached over to ash the cigarra before glancing back towards the hallway lined with books, “Observant of you,” He muttered dryly before glancing back to meet the piercing golds that seared into him, “A lot of rather tedious things, really…” He shrugged, “History mainly, and also comics,” He said with a faint grin. He wasn’t ashamed of his nerdier side, “Help yourself to reading anything you wish...though some of it has my unfortunate, badly scribbled commentary in it.”

They had some time before they arrived at their destination. Emryc didn’t have to actively pilot anymore, and he rose from his seat to stretch and walked towards said hallway. He paused along the shelves, eyeing along a few different titles that had all been arranged alphabetically and categorically.

@Mr. Teatime
 

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Rather than respond immediately, Morgan softly hummed contentedly. He kept his thoughts and conclusions to himself. Meaning often became clearer with time anyway. He had plenty.

His cigars trailed smoke through the air as he twirled it between his fingers to ash I'm wherever Emryc had been, then back again to nestle precariously between his lips. He stood to follow loosely behind the other man as he re-entered the more central part of the ship, eyes giving the clean shelves more complete look over.


"I think I will, thank you. No doubt the notes give them character."
The iron smell was certainly notable. At first he brushed it off. Sith ship, murder or injury wouldn't be uncommon. But it was too... Consistent. But a detail for later.

His eyes did look for weak points, but at the moment maybe not the kind Emryc was expecting. To his sight, things like the oil from fingertips on glass cases or book covers had a subtle, special shine he'd come to recognize. So while he spoke, he also looked for the kinds of things Emryc returned to most often for reading. He did also appreciate the neat categorization. Order was best.


"So many hard paper copies. Reminds me of my teacher."


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Emryc gazed at the rows of books, thinking about where and when he had collected each one. Some of these had required him to travel to remote places in the galaxy and ‘remove obstacles’ in his path. Others he had to pose as a tourist and haggle to get his hands on the books, and sometimes he happened upon a book by chance. Each book had a story associated with it beyond what lay between the covers.

He was amused at Morgan’s words, though he didn't show it, sliding the pane over to make the books accessible. He was curious about this teacher he mentioned, but he would file that away for now, “Not worth it if you can’t get the original copy. It means more when it was held by figures of the past,” His fingers traveled across a row of books like the graceful touch of a pianist before arriving at a rather old book.

Emryc pulled it out and opened it, the pages delicate and fragile. It had an old smell to it and the dust suggested that he didn’t open it often to preserve it. He tilted it towards Morgan so he could see, “This happens to be an old text that glorifies a battle in Hutt space that was led by General Corvius Tors carrying out Emperor Elix Drast’s will,” Emryc pointed a finger over to the side of the page where there were some handwritten scribbles, “And here you will see it written in by the Emperor himself that the true mastermind behind the orchestration of the attack was his Dark Lord Diabolus. The execution was so covert that even the historians captured it incorrectly,” Emryc visibly smiled as he looked over the writing. He paused for a moment before glancing back up at Morgan again.

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"Agreed," was the simple reply to Emryc's assertion of book value. It was true, old books that held physical and historical significance all their own were truly worth more than most gave them credit for. He leaned slightly forward in interest, drawn off of his search by the promise of something new and entertaining.

And oh boy, entertaining it was. For a fraction of a second Morgan's eyes flashed with the light of recognition before he tilted his head to better look at the written notes. It was honestly kind of funny, the things that wound up in different hands. This book was ancient to have such writing in it. At least relatively speaking. Emryc wasn't the person he expected to have heard that name amongst the modern Sith Eternal.

His eyes flicked up the Emryc's, the smallest grin forming on his face.
"How very interesting. The Emperor's own hand. You're sure those are the Emperor's words?" he asked, turning back to look at the bookshelf. "Is this Dark Lord of his mentioned anywhere else?"


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Emryc grinned at the questions, “I uh...may have cross-checked the penmanship with his other works,” He ran a hand through his hair, the look on his face almost sheepish in nature for just a flash before it was gone. He turned his attention back to the shelves, scanning over them till he found a particular book, “If you know where to look…” He pulled the book out and put the other one away, “In other texts he’s referred to as Arcturus Wolfgang. He had been trusted to protect the royal bloodline which included the Siris, Kravos and Evandrus lines. He was an Anzat so he served that role for several generations,” He handed the book over to Morgan, “I haven’t been able to find much on his later years, unfortunately.”

Emryc stared back at the shelves for a long moment, getting lost a bit in history. He despised mysteries, and the story of Arcturus was one that remained incomplete. He pondered silently for a moment before speaking again, still looking at his different titles, “Is your teacher a collector?”

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Morgan smiled in a friendly sort of way while Emryc elaborated on his findings. So he was a scholar, not just another soldier. He didn't just read he categorized, ordered, puzzled things out. Morgan was beginning to like him in spite of his alleged stoicism.

The young Sith took the proffered book in hand, softly and delicately as one would a small bird. Carefully he held it and looked down at the pages, expression fairly blank beyond a small narrowing of the eyes.

What Emryc had said was both interesting and telling. It also sounded correct despite a lack of detail. A wry grin slowly spread over his face when Emryc asked about his teacher. He really didn't know how ridiculous this conversation was quickly becoming. Or maybe he did? Hard to read the guy.


"Aha, of sorts. He collects and studies things. Art and literature, mostly, I've picked up the habit. But a collector by profession or nature? No. My teacher is a demon."


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Emryc glanced up to catch the grin on Morgan’s face, and it spiked his curiosity. It wasn’t a grin just for the sake of grinning, but it had purpose behind it. There were gears turning and suggestions that he knew more than he was letting on. This combined with the mysterious reasons for him getting more mission intel put Emryc slightly more on the defense. Externally there was no change of expression as he handed the book over. Morgan appeared to be the type to respect how fragile these works were.

Emryc walked a bit past the shelves towards the crew area. He would point out where Morgan could stay, his own room further down the hall and across. However, he paused in his tracks at Morgan’s words about his teacher. Emryc slowly turned to look at him, a single eyebrow raised. He said nothing for a moment, replaying the words in his head a few times.

“You snorting some Neutron Pixie you care to share?”

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Slender fingers gently caressed the edge of one of the book's pages, then hooked around the cover and slowly closed it, shutting the tome with barely a sound. He tucked it between his hand and elbow with great care before following behind Emryc further into the ship. The other Sith's reaction to what Morgan said weren't exactly unexpected. It was somewhere adjacent to the typical response he got when people asked.

Morgan chuckled softly and shook his head.
"No, Emryc, just a turn of phrase. I'm sure you'd understand if you met him." The training he'd gone through had been by no means easy or standard for Sith, certainly enough. In his opinion it was an apt description of the man who had taught him the way of the Sith. Secrecy was such a shame sometimes, but at least it brought with it the most fun games to play.

He walked into the doorway to indicated guest room and then turned to look at Emryc and offered him a fang-toothed grin.
"Dyab la se nan detay an, or so it is said," he said, allowing his accent to slip back into place to slightly colour his usage of basic. "A good lesson, I've found," he continued without bothering to translate what he'd said in Firrerreo. Another puzzle for Emryc to figure out if he cared to.

"It seems we have time yet to Terminus. Why not read together? I'd welcome hearing another voice bring life to the pages."


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Morgan’s teacher sounded far more interesting than his own. Varek Treth had put him on the path to become a formidable Sith, but Emryc knew he was beginning to outpace the man. It would only be a matter of time before he killed him for being the weaker among them. Emryc’s thoughts returned to the present, lingering on the fanged grin offered by Morgan.

Emryc didn’t understand the phrase uttered, nor did he ask for a translation, instead filing it away within his mind. His thoughts were instead distracted by Morgan’s suggestion of reading together. Emryc stared at the other man blankly, silver eyes as calm as ever. It was true that Terminus was a respectable distance away and nothing sounded more enticing than diving back into the worlds his books opened up. He cut that thought off before it could fully form.

“You may read as much as you please,” He said curtly, turning around as he began to walk back towards the cargo area, “I will be training.”

He left Morgan standing where he was, walking into his room to change out of his station uniform. He put on looser fitting clothing that was more breathable before making his way down to the cargo area. As he often did, he began a combat kata that was more for discipline and structure than it was for real fighting.

A curious element was that he had pulled the Force in to aid him, his saber ignited and whirling in the air. It followed behind him with each step and pivot, cutting and blocking on its own. Each strike was precise and with a strict measure of control, a testament to his command of the Force.

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Morgan offered a mock modern salute, snapping to and ending with a loose wrist and a playful wiggling of the fingers as Emryc turned around. "Have fun, soldier boy," he teased, turning to look at his crate of stuff. Might as well find a way to pass the time on his own, then.

By the time Emryc had changed from his uniform and was moving to the cargo area, Morgan had made himself quite comfortable in the other man's ship. He lounged in a long chair that had cushions and blankets arranged across it, boots forgotten on the floor. A seven-string hallikset lay cradled in his hands, the book laid open perched carefully amidst a small nest made from a spare bit of blanket. The young man's fingers danced steady and slow across the strings of his instrument, a practiced hum joining the sound as he read from the book, a delicate flicker of his will turning one page to the next with the gentleness of a feather.


The song was bittersweet and sad. Although Morgan spoke no words, even as Emryc went through his kata with the Force, so did the Force dance along with the strings. Little reverberations of emotion that rang out, a kind of language anyone could understand. It spoke of loss, past and future. It spoke of love, in the little ways one loves what used to be. It spoke of a great destiny and ancient glories, the echoes of an old Empire. It was a very old song, a lullaby. Nearly five hundred years old, in fact.


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It was some time before Emryc emerged from the cargo area, breathing heavily from exertion. He headed straight for a shower but heard music up ahead. Eyebrows furrowed as he kept walking, coming to stand at the end of the hallway to find Morgan in a nest he built for himself in the main lounge. To say that the sight was amusing was an understatement. Emryc was completely drenched in sweat, his hair matted to his face.

Arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, he eyed the other Sith that he filed away in his mind as a very odd creature. It was strangely relaxing simply watching him play and the way his fingers gracefully traveled over the strings. It took a moment for him to actually pay attention to the melody. There was something eerily familiar about the song. He had heard it when he had researched…

“How do you know that song?” He asked abruptly, realizing that he was possibly interrupting. His eyes analyzed him sharply. He was also well aware that the sensitive Firrerreo would pick up on his sweat drenched skin and natural musk, not covered up by his expensive cologne as usual, “You know the words?”

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