doandordie | IC Inbox

[Even though Bodhi had long since assumed Kay was destroyed, it hurts to hear what exactly happened. He doesn't kid himself to thinking that he can fully empathize with Cassian; he'd known the droid for a matter of hours in comparison to what was likely years. The pain Cassian must feel is immense, and it's telling that he can pick it up so easily in his voice.

He's not sure what to say in response to this, though. Apologize? That would just be placating and meaningless. Especially when it's not his fault that Kay was destroyed. An apology wouldn't bring Kay back, and he's not sure if anything can. It's something to think about, maybe look into.

But that doesn't help right now. He's not sure if anything can, apart from just letting Cassian say what he needs to.]

He was instrumental in the success of the mission. [Which is stating the obvious. But he can't bring himself to say more; it would edge into making assumptions about Kay, and while they might not be incorrect at all, it wasn't his place to do so.]

He was. [He appreciates those words far more than any placating or apologizing Bodhi could have attempted. After a moment, his arms wrap around Bodhi from behind and he rests his forehead more evenly on Bodhi's shoulder with a slow, painful exhale.

After a moment of silence, he slips away and moves to take a seat, waiting for Bodhi to finish with the tea. He could leave it at that. He doesn't need to share. Bodhi has no reason to need to know the details of his life. But Cassian closes his eyes with his head bowed and loses himself in memories.]

He looked out for me. [He was the only one, save the passive looking out that Mon Mothma had attempted and failed over the years.]

[As tempted as he is to set his hand on Cassian's, or to turn around and give him a better hug, he refrains from doing so. It's just not worth the risk when he's so uncertain about how Cassian will react, and whether it'll help or hinder. It's so hard to tell when this is such new territory.

So he opts for continuing with his original plan, and it's a bit easier once Cassian moves to the table. Bodhi finishes making the tea, and soon after brings two mugs to the table. He sits across for him, holding his own cup in his hands.]

He was a good droid. Truly one of a kind.

[Cassian drinks from his own mug in silence for a time, letting Bodhi's words linger in his mind. Kay was more than a droid, to him, and he hadn't realized just how much he had come to rely on his snarky co-pilot until he had lost him for good.

He turned the cup in his hands and then leaned back in his chair.]

I was the one who reprogrammed him. I didn't get it right, exactly. There were a lot of protections in place against reprogramming, and when I finished, there were a lot of bugs in the new program. Glitches. They made him a terrible liar, but they gave him a lot more freedom than the usual driod programming allows for. He just kept adapting and disobeying orders.

[There's a short, soft sound of a cut off laugh as he stares back into his tea.] He used to tell me our missions would go a lot smoother if I'd listen to him more. He was usually right.

[Words are failing Bodhi. He was never good at this sort of thing, and it's even harder with Cassian sharing so much more information. The additional context explains a lot, and there's a bit of a hopeless feeling now. There's not really a fix to this, not that Bodhi can think of.

No droid is ever going to be the same, much as one person can never truly replace another. If only it were possible-- Bodhi stops himself at that thought. If only because there's no point in following that line of thought.

Even suggesting it would be cruel.]

I have some cookies that will go with the tea. [He's flying blind here, really. But food will help, surely. Pushing away from the table, he fetches a tin from the cabinet and brings it over, returning to his seat.]

[It's almost a relief when Bodhi doesn't press further, and doesn't seem inclined to push. Cassian has said more or less all he is willing to on the matter. He's never really been one to share readily, or much. He was an intelligence officer. Keeping his ears open and his mouth shut was his life.

He doesn't watch Bodhi leave, or follow his movements, staring at the table distantly instead. When the other man returns, he takes one of the cookies, and bites off a piece of it before coming back from the distant lands of his memory.]

This is good tea.

IC Inbox - Piraeus

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