Hauron sat at the end of his bed within his personal quarters aboard the Dralaalar. His helmet sat by his side, facing the wall while its owner stared at an inert commlink on a crate. He had been sitting like that for minutes, maybe longer. It was not the first time he had debated making a call. It would not be the last.
No, he was not going to call. Not today. He knew there would not be anyone picking up if he did. Instead, he quietly wished to receive one in return. Both of his hands were brought together, layering over the other underneath his chin. Hauron tried processing his feelings. He contemplated what he would even say the next time he saw his father. But there were parts of him he did not want to acknowledge, parts he was not ready to accept.
The quiet thrum of the ship's engines was the only noise he heard but moreso felt throughout his ship. Hundreds of Mandalorians were onboard, going about their business. But in that moment Hauron Solus felt alone.
Eventually the mikkian stood up and collected his helmet. He smoothed out his headtendrils and bound them so they would fit underneath his protective armor. He left the commlink behind only to stop in the doorway and look back at it. The red hued T visor reflected the device back. Taking a breath, he sighed and left the room in darkness.