[ The sun is really unforgiving this close to midday. Fortunately, Rex has found a granite bench shaded by one of the small trees in the garden. The tree is brimming with tiny red fruits, small insects buzzing about between the branches. He's got his DC-17s laid out next to him along with his cleaning tools, one of the blasters already partially dissembled. Every move, every single element cleaned and checked for damage or tear, is a habit, long-ingrained.
Next to him, the servant - a girl, Juila - has left him a tall glass of freshly-pressed juice. She'd done so unprompted and with a curious glance at his weapons, though she hadn't lingered to ask about them (she had, however, assured him that she would've gladly joined him on the bench if it weren't for all the chores she'd yet to finish; Rex, on his part, is a little bit relieved for the peace and quiet). He feels pampered and that, in turn, makes him uncomfortable.
So he's yet to touch the drink which is honestly absurd, except this is the General's hide-out, not his, and each moment he spends here is a moment that passes back on Coruscant amongst his brothers, without him.
Not that he'd be any good to them right now, of course.
Mouth twisting a little, he starts putting the blaster back together, double-checking each element as he goes. ]
[ The debates have lasted all night. All night. All night. Time Sarica could have spent sleeping or more importantly, fucking Anakin, and now had to waste on very concerning proposals, the first of their kind popping up in the political arena for decades. Proposals to hand the war effort over to the military entirely, take it out of the Temple's hands and, implied, out of Sarica's, as their adviser. Sarica had demolished them completely, of course (this is not the foundation our nation is built on, do not seek to rip our founding values apart), but he had noticed, hadn't he? How many of those old men, who once frequented his orgies and thus, kept quiet about everything else, too, had raised their hand in approval.
Maybe he'll have to pick up the habit again. In some form or other. Or the tide might turn against him.
However, more than any of this, Sarica concerns his ride back to the villa with an uneasy curiosity about the stranger that has arrived to his home, evidently to see Anakin. He received the news yesterday afternoon, in the middle of the aftershocks of Oran's speech to the gathered senators, and couldn't do much else about it than ask Toril keep an eye on the progression, inform him if they left.
His updates have been arriving in a steady stream all night, like an additional factor he had to keep a grasp of, and from afar.
Now, the villa's coming into view and he makes haste, handing his stallion over to Toril, eyes already scanning the garden and finding - a man, on the taller side, charmed, sitting on the bench beneath the ruby fruit tree and working on things that Efith has never seen before, but which Sarica has a gut feeling could win them wars. Hmm. He's unbathed and his tunic bears the traces of a twelve hour long work day, but this can't wait.
Anakin's friends can't wait. Mustn't.
Sarica walks over slowly, stopping at what might seem a polite distance, but is more cautious than polite. His words are pleasant, almost too much so. He thinks of Anakin who's making his name known at the local market, earning his own pay at this point. ]
[ Peripherally, he notes the arrival of a horse and rider, a flurry of movement off to the side as the stableboy, Toril, hurries over to handle the horse. He doesn't look up from his work; this is someone's private property and the comings and goings of people here hardly concerns him. But he does notice, regardless. He can't not.
The sound of footsteps on the path close by makes him pause in his tracks. As the person actually draws closer, halting within his vicinity - not too close, but close enough that it calls for some kind of contact - Rex puts down his blaster carefully and gives the newcomer a look.
Right away, he realises that this man isn't just a random guest to the household - his clothes, tunic in particular, looks richer, more elaborate than what he's seen on other people in the Capital. Reminds him of Coruscant, actually, and its politicians. His shoulders straighten immediately, like he's been run through with an electrical charge, and once the man actually speaks, he gets to his feet quickly, brushing down his clothes. ]
Yes, sir. Thank you for the hospitality.
[ He looks at the man - Sarica - trying not to be too overtly curious about it. He looks younger than he'd expected, he realises. Softer, maybe, around the edges though there are certainly edges enough to go around. ]
[ Standard phrasing. He's more occupied with the build of the man, the way he straightens up and gets to his feet, like a soldier called to attention, when Sarica speaks. He would be reminded of the many, many soldiers he's travelled with throughout his time as a legislator, but somehow he isn't. This is another class. Elite. The soldiers Sarica knows are foot men, paid on the daily and returning home to normal lives, normal families, normal structures. There's nothing normal about the man in front of him, it's screaming at him from his curiously short hair to the way he handled that - weapon, yes.
He smiles, then, a slow glimpse of teeth and raises his chin.
Once, what seems a long time ago, Anakin told him that the Chancellor was dead, that Anakin's men had killed him, is this Anakin's men? He doesn't wonder, he knows. He knows and he still asks. ]
You came to see Anakin, I understand.
[ His servants are friendly people, but they are also paid for their loyalty, a loyalty that isn't to the guests of his villa, but to him. He heard they slept outside last night, the way Anakin does, he's aware, sometimes, when Sarica isn't there to lure him in.
And this man is someone who doesn't mind sleeping on the ground with him. Is that all Sarica needs to know? ]
[ He nods and folds his hands behind his back. Due to the heat of Efith, he's wearing what seems to be standard clothes in these parts - tunic, trousers, sandals - and the movement of his body without the weight of his armor always makes him feel as if he's forgotten something. He watches Sarica, noting that slight glimpse of teeth. A dangerous man, possibly, but which men in power aren't? Anakin trusts him and unless he's learned absolutely nothing from recent events, that ought to be a quality stamp.
Or, you know, his General hasn't learned anything at all and this man is completely deranged.
Rex inclines his head slightly at the un-asked question. It doesn't surprise him that Sarica already seems to know what's going on, though he must be coming directly from work, judging by the state of him. He seems to be the type who's got ears everywhere. ]
I had to see this place for myself.
[ He smiles. ]
Not many planets out there that'll hold the General's attention for any length of time.
[ Planets, he says. Not persons, though he could have. He doesn't want to act too familiar this early on. Seems at odds with the other man, somehow. ]
[ The General, this man calls him and it isn't at odds with anything Sarica knows about Anakin, surely, he met him as a soldier on a detour from the war he was fighting and if nothing else, Anakin's got both talent and attitude enough to fill such huge shoes, doesn't he? Still, hearing this man refer to him in those words makes Sarica flex his fingers at his sides, straightening up a little himself and meeting his eyes straight on. The smile has faded, a slow retreat, his features sharp and soft simultaneously now.
There's a part of him that wants to ask the man's name, to have some kind of hold on him, by his personal effects if nothing else. Another part of him insists he doesn't need it, he has stated his claims already. Anakin wears his jewellery. If he took off his glove around the other man last night, he would've seen.
But then, Anakin would have to take off the glove. Sarica's eyes narrow. ]
Your general calls it the butt-end of the galaxy, as it is. It wasn't the planet he came for and it isn't the planet that keeps him here.
[ A pause, heavy, loaded. He'll give the soldier a chance to be direct, to ask if he finds that the matter concerns him, Sarica didn't only get the news of his arrival here, he was told someone had been making inquiries amongst the merchants and the people in the streets, his servants have long, long ears.
And his own network is huge. Still. Yesterday's debates notwithstanding. Gold buys many things, just because it doesn't buy you Anakin Skywalker. ]
Gossip grows naturally around these parts. You must have heard.
[ Oh. The other man calls his bluff and puts himself front and center, basically, though he isn't saying it as directly as he could have. Sure, Rex has heard the gossip. As a visitor to the Capital, he's fairly certain only the deaf might have the slightest chance not to. Sarica is no longer smiling and he's watching Rex in much the same way you'd watch a stranger of uncertain allegiances. What, all that because Rex didn't acknowledge their relationship outright?
That seems almost vulnerable, in a way.
Unexpected. ]
Of course. [ He takes a small step back and bows his head slightly. ] I simply wasn't sure how to express it. You and he...
[ Swallow. Uh. Kriff, he wishes he didn't have to put this into words, it was bad enough with the Senator but at least it was also supposed to be secret, meaning you didn't actually verbalize it. In the end, Rex gives up on trying to formulate a sentence that doesn't feel like he's stepping about a million miles out of line with regards to his superior officer. Instead, he simply settles on what he knows, what he's heard and seen with his own senses: ]
He speaks highly of you, sir. That's rare, in itself.
[ It occurs to him belatedly, that he's... feeling something he can't quite put his finger on, because he's never felt similarly before. He realises, however, as he hears the man fumble with his words to acknowledge Sarica's and Anakin's relationship, like he's trying to calm Sarica down, that it's something to do with, what, insecurity. Sarica isn't insecure and if he were, he certainly wouldn't flaunt it like this. He doesn't need this soldier to validate what they share, Anakin and him, he needs him to get away from Anakin altogether, he needs him to not have a claim to him, to not own a part of his history that Sarica has no role in. First and last, he told the other man back then. First and last.
Still, the way Anakin's second in command manages to praise him, but in Anakin's words indirectly... He knows this tactic, he knows it, because he's used it many times. When trying to either curb or feed other men's jealousy.
Is this what it is, then? Is he jealous? Ridiculous. He tempers himself, managing a small smile, chilly and not as welcoming as his words were earlier, not at all. ]
Is it, really. [ Not a question. Anakin holds others to his own standards, the thing is most people can't live up to all that, all that Anakin Skywalker is. ] You were among the men who saved him from the Chancellor?
[ The other man manages to get himself under control, though it's a visible mental struggle that Rex knows all too well. Though the clones as a rule are generally tempered along similar lines, he's got many brothers who need help from time to time, reigning themselves in. And they're soldiers, after all. Being able to control their emotions in high-pressure situations can mean the difference between life or death.
In politics, perhaps it's not quite. So acute.
Or perhaps it is and this is just a very particular kind of situation. Rex doesn't know. He hasn't been around long enough to start categorizing.
So he simply nods again, keeping his stance casual, unthreatening. ]
Yes.
[ Saved says Sarica. So, is that how Anakin sees it, too? Does the word still apply when you are so ridiculously late to the party that the whole building might as well have been on fire? He looks away from Sarica, gaze gliding sideways for a second before he catches himself and re-focuses.
He straightens up a fraction and says, voice steady: ]
I had his back as he's had mine, many times earlier.
[ Meaning, That's what we are to each other - nothing more and nothing less. Rex finally turns and takes a seat again. He picks up his blaster and goes back to cleaning it, though he doesn't give it even a fraction of his full attention. It's not for him, after all, to dismiss the other man. ]
[ I had his back as he's had mine, many times earlier. Says the no-name man. Who dismisses Sarica by sitting down and starting in on his weapon once more, bringing the notion of conflict and an outside war into the Capital, right at the heart of the nation. Haven't they got enough in their own wars? Hasn't Sarica got enough in this trembling rage that runs beneath his skin, making him flex his fingers into fists again and again at his sides. His features don't change much, but his body in on high alert. Everything in him wants to destroy and pull apart and put back together and have and keep.
He blinks. By the Mysteries, pull yourself together, man.
Relaxing his shoulders forcibly, Sarica looks the soldier over and decides that for Anakin's sake, he really is welcome here and can stay as long as he wants. But if there's any talk of taking Anakin with him, when he inevitably leaves? Oh, he will make Efith a space-faring planet, just for that. Just for that.
All of these thoughts passing over his face in relative silence, Sarica finally smiles with a huff of breath to it, almost a laugh and nods his head at the man and his weapon, strange things that will be familiar to Anakin when he gets here and for that, it has its place. He says, back to pleasant and back to relative calm, ]
For that, you have my thanks.
[ The words are softer than most of the rest, genuine. True. He nods towards the juice sitting next to him on the bench and tells him to have a drink, the heat will only get worse from here, before crossing over the courtyard to the front door, Juila waiting inside, throwing it open in expectation as he walks up to it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action.
Next to him, the servant - a girl, Juila - has left him a tall glass of freshly-pressed juice. She'd done so unprompted and with a curious glance at his weapons, though she hadn't lingered to ask about them (she had, however, assured him that she would've gladly joined him on the bench if it weren't for all the chores she'd yet to finish; Rex, on his part, is a little bit relieved for the peace and quiet). He feels pampered and that, in turn, makes him uncomfortable.
So he's yet to touch the drink which is honestly absurd, except this is the General's hide-out, not his, and each moment he spends here is a moment that passes back on Coruscant amongst his brothers, without him.
Not that he'd be any good to them right now, of course.
Mouth twisting a little, he starts putting the blaster back together, double-checking each element as he goes. ]
no subject
Maybe he'll have to pick up the habit again. In some form or other. Or the tide might turn against him.
However, more than any of this, Sarica concerns his ride back to the villa with an uneasy curiosity about the stranger that has arrived to his home, evidently to see Anakin. He received the news yesterday afternoon, in the middle of the aftershocks of Oran's speech to the gathered senators, and couldn't do much else about it than ask Toril keep an eye on the progression, inform him if they left.
His updates have been arriving in a steady stream all night, like an additional factor he had to keep a grasp of, and from afar.
Now, the villa's coming into view and he makes haste, handing his stallion over to Toril, eyes already scanning the garden and finding - a man, on the taller side, charmed, sitting on the bench beneath the ruby fruit tree and working on things that Efith has never seen before, but which Sarica has a gut feeling could win them wars. Hmm. He's unbathed and his tunic bears the traces of a twelve hour long work day, but this can't wait.
Anakin's friends can't wait. Mustn't.
Sarica walks over slowly, stopping at what might seem a polite distance, but is more cautious than polite. His words are pleasant, almost too much so. He thinks of Anakin who's making his name known at the local market, earning his own pay at this point. ]
Has my household been kind to you, my friend?
no subject
The sound of footsteps on the path close by makes him pause in his tracks. As the person actually draws closer, halting within his vicinity - not too close, but close enough that it calls for some kind of contact - Rex puts down his blaster carefully and gives the newcomer a look.
Right away, he realises that this man isn't just a random guest to the household - his clothes, tunic in particular, looks richer, more elaborate than what he's seen on other people in the Capital. Reminds him of Coruscant, actually, and its politicians. His shoulders straighten immediately, like he's been run through with an electrical charge, and once the man actually speaks, he gets to his feet quickly, brushing down his clothes. ]
Yes, sir. Thank you for the hospitality.
[ He looks at the man - Sarica - trying not to be too overtly curious about it. He looks younger than he'd expected, he realises. Softer, maybe, around the edges though there are certainly edges enough to go around. ]
no subject
[ Standard phrasing. He's more occupied with the build of the man, the way he straightens up and gets to his feet, like a soldier called to attention, when Sarica speaks. He would be reminded of the many, many soldiers he's travelled with throughout his time as a legislator, but somehow he isn't. This is another class. Elite. The soldiers Sarica knows are foot men, paid on the daily and returning home to normal lives, normal families, normal structures. There's nothing normal about the man in front of him, it's screaming at him from his curiously short hair to the way he handled that - weapon, yes.
He smiles, then, a slow glimpse of teeth and raises his chin.
Once, what seems a long time ago, Anakin told him that the Chancellor was dead, that Anakin's men had killed him, is this Anakin's men? He doesn't wonder, he knows. He knows and he still asks. ]
You came to see Anakin, I understand.
[ His servants are friendly people, but they are also paid for their loyalty, a loyalty that isn't to the guests of his villa, but to him. He heard they slept outside last night, the way Anakin does, he's aware, sometimes, when Sarica isn't there to lure him in.
And this man is someone who doesn't mind sleeping on the ground with him. Is that all Sarica needs to know? ]
no subject
Or, you know, his General hasn't learned anything at all and this man is completely deranged.
Rex inclines his head slightly at the un-asked question. It doesn't surprise him that Sarica already seems to know what's going on, though he must be coming directly from work, judging by the state of him. He seems to be the type who's got ears everywhere. ]
I had to see this place for myself.
[ He smiles. ]
Not many planets out there that'll hold the General's attention for any length of time.
[ Planets, he says. Not persons, though he could have. He doesn't want to act too familiar this early on. Seems at odds with the other man, somehow. ]
no subject
There's a part of him that wants to ask the man's name, to have some kind of hold on him, by his personal effects if nothing else. Another part of him insists he doesn't need it, he has stated his claims already. Anakin wears his jewellery. If he took off his glove around the other man last night, he would've seen.
But then, Anakin would have to take off the glove. Sarica's eyes narrow. ]
Your general calls it the butt-end of the galaxy, as it is. It wasn't the planet he came for and it isn't the planet that keeps him here.
[ A pause, heavy, loaded. He'll give the soldier a chance to be direct, to ask if he finds that the matter concerns him, Sarica didn't only get the news of his arrival here, he was told someone had been making inquiries amongst the merchants and the people in the streets, his servants have long, long ears.
And his own network is huge. Still. Yesterday's debates notwithstanding. Gold buys many things, just because it doesn't buy you Anakin Skywalker. ]
Gossip grows naturally around these parts. You must have heard.
no subject
That seems almost vulnerable, in a way.
Unexpected. ]
Of course. [ He takes a small step back and bows his head slightly. ] I simply wasn't sure how to express it. You and he...
[ Swallow. Uh. Kriff, he wishes he didn't have to put this into words, it was bad enough with the Senator but at least it was also supposed to be secret, meaning you didn't actually verbalize it. In the end, Rex gives up on trying to formulate a sentence that doesn't feel like he's stepping about a million miles out of line with regards to his superior officer. Instead, he simply settles on what he knows, what he's heard and seen with his own senses: ]
He speaks highly of you, sir. That's rare, in itself.
no subject
Still, the way Anakin's second in command manages to praise him, but in Anakin's words indirectly... He knows this tactic, he knows it, because he's used it many times. When trying to either curb or feed other men's jealousy.
Is this what it is, then? Is he jealous? Ridiculous. He tempers himself, managing a small smile, chilly and not as welcoming as his words were earlier, not at all. ]
Is it, really. [ Not a question. Anakin holds others to his own standards, the thing is most people can't live up to all that, all that Anakin Skywalker is. ] You were among the men who saved him from the Chancellor?
[ A question. An important one. ]
no subject
In politics, perhaps it's not quite. So acute.
Or perhaps it is and this is just a very particular kind of situation. Rex doesn't know. He hasn't been around long enough to start categorizing.
So he simply nods again, keeping his stance casual, unthreatening. ]
Yes.
[ Saved says Sarica. So, is that how Anakin sees it, too? Does the word still apply when you are so ridiculously late to the party that the whole building might as well have been on fire? He looks away from Sarica, gaze gliding sideways for a second before he catches himself and re-focuses.
He straightens up a fraction and says, voice steady: ]
I had his back as he's had mine, many times earlier.
[ Meaning, That's what we are to each other - nothing more and nothing less. Rex finally turns and takes a seat again. He picks up his blaster and goes back to cleaning it, though he doesn't give it even a fraction of his full attention. It's not for him, after all, to dismiss the other man. ]
no subject
He blinks. By the Mysteries, pull yourself together, man.
Relaxing his shoulders forcibly, Sarica looks the soldier over and decides that for Anakin's sake, he really is welcome here and can stay as long as he wants. But if there's any talk of taking Anakin with him, when he inevitably leaves? Oh, he will make Efith a space-faring planet, just for that. Just for that.
All of these thoughts passing over his face in relative silence, Sarica finally smiles with a huff of breath to it, almost a laugh and nods his head at the man and his weapon, strange things that will be familiar to Anakin when he gets here and for that, it has its place. He says, back to pleasant and back to relative calm, ]
For that, you have my thanks.
[ The words are softer than most of the rest, genuine. True. He nods towards the juice sitting next to him on the bench and tells him to have a drink, the heat will only get worse from here, before crossing over the courtyard to the front door, Juila waiting inside, throwing it open in expectation as he walks up to it.
His servants have long, long ears. ]