It was some time since the Dantooine and New Alderaan incident. He had spent a lot of that time being angry, acting out, withdrawing into himself. He almost considered erasing every bit of her from his comlink and everywhere else, especially when she had sent that note once again apologizing. However, as he began to calm down, he couldn’t forget that he was alive and breathing because of her. He remembered how those rebels were hellbent on killing him and finishing the job. In the end, she had risked everything she had ever known to stand against her own. While it may have been easy to do as a Sith, it was unthinkable for a Jedi.
Altair brushed it all under the rug, resigning himself to simply forgetting her. He knew he would never back down if he saw her across the battlefield again. He wouldn’t hesitate again. The tiefling was about to leave his quarters for a social outing when he went to toss something in his trash. That was where he saw the crumpled up bright pink invitation. Altair stared at it for several minutes before extracting it and smoothing it out. He had it since before Dantooine - little promises made before everything came crashing down. He despised ever seeing the stupid invite again. The tiefling paced back and forth for a while until he finally made up his mind.
He arrived at the designated location on the day of the invite an hour before it was scheduled to start. Altair knew it was still a tense situation, and he was likely not even welcome here. They hadn’t talked since she had sent her text and he never replied. For all intents and purposes he believed she had written him off and assumed he had done the same to her.
Even so, he found himself with a large box in his arms and an envelope. His hope was to drop it off and make a sneaky escape before anyone noticed. Altair spotted the house up ahead and he couldn’t see anyone outside or looking out just then. The tiefling looked around, exhaled deeply, and made his way over to set down the box at her door.
Inside was a handmade cake, decorated with the types of butterflies Altair and Clove had seen in that conservatory and the one that he had landed on his hand to show her. He had made and decorated the cake from scratch. In the envelope were two VIP passes to the exclusive Mon Calamari ballet he had bought long before he knew how things would turn out. The tiefling stared down at the gifts for a moment, looked at the door for a while and sighed, “Happy birthday, Wheels…”
Without a word or notification, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to shuffle off back towards his ship.
@LilyNion