Ocean’s End Cantina, Dubrillion
159 ABY
It would become a tradition, if they weren’t careful. But if she closed her eyes, the chatter and the soothing rhythm of the crashing waves almost let Merian forget she was again waiting on the same man in some chic cantina on a freshly-conquered world. Almost.
The cold was the biggest giveaway. Not that it was cold cold, mind you, but sitting at some fancy oceanfront cantina on an ocean world came with certain expectations, and this was not it. Anything short of tropical missed the mark. This place was nice enough, but Dubrillion wasn’t anything like Iloh. Even their oceans were easily told apart by a practiced eye like Merian’s, one colder, calmer, its currents unperturbed by Iloh’s thousand thousand islands. The thought brought her a smile. Despite persisting worries, it was hard not to be proud of the maneuver she’d drawn up and pulled off during the invasion.
Another wave crashed. The water surged and rose to reach Merian’s ankles, came to a standstill for a second before withdrawing again. She’d picked a table for two just far enough out on the beach, and when the tide rose the ocean came to lap at her feet. A part of her wondered whether Kellan would like it or find it annoying. He may not like the sea as much as she did, and for all Merian knew he’d become a pilot to get as far away from it as he could.
Oh well. If he wanted an indoor table, he ought to have arrived before her.
This time it was her who’d asked him out, though anyone who’d ever spent five minutes with Merian knew she wasn’t the type to ask someone out for drinks without some kind of ulterior motive. Her hands went over the simple white dress she’d opted to wear like she was pressing her uniform before a parade. A nervous sigh. At least an Imperial captain likely wasn’t the type to flake after giving his word.