milliways_bar | (no subject)

A rat soon approaches Bodhi with a note:

Bodhi, I'm sorry I was ungentle with you. -Baze Malbus

The author is whittling by the fire, getting yelled at by another rat to clean up the wood shavings. To the untrained eye, he appears completely absorbed in his work and his conversation with the rat, said in low, placating tones, but he's keeping an eye on the bar at large.

Bodhi gets the note and reads it twice before asking the bar for a pen and paper and sending one back.

Baze. Thank you. If we agree not to fight, can I come over and join you? Bodhi.

Baze receives the note and stops whittling. He hands the block of wood to the irritated rat, pockets the knife, and stands from his comfy chair. Then he collects his staff, and ambles over to Bodhi's seat with a small smile.

"I can't guarantee we won't fight, but we can certainly try," Baze says, resting his staff on his other shoulder. "Hello, Bodhi. How are you?"

"I guess we'll just have to try." Bodhi manages a small shrug. "I've been okay. Teaching myself cheese making." He gestures to the board of cheeses and flat bread. "I was just about the try the first batch. Would you like some?"

"Oh, sure," Baze says, eyeing the spread with clear approval. He sets a hand on a seat at Bodhi's table, a gesture where he seeks permission to sit. "Cheese making, huh? I'd like to hear all about that. Those look wonderful. Would you like me to get us some drinks with it?"

Bodhi nods, welcoming him to sit and starts to slice the cheeses. The soft Bantha cheese oozes slowly like a soft brie. "Yes please? I really hope this is okay."

He takes a small slice, chewing critically. "Not as strong as I'd have liked." He offers some to Baze.

Baze leans his staff against the table and settles his armored bulk in the indicated chair. He's wary of Bodhi, approaching him like he would a wounded animal again. Bodhi wanted to apologize, or so he said, and Baze holds on to that rather than how the boy stormed off. When Baze takes the cheese, he makes sure their fingers don't brush, just in case Bodhi will bolt.

"Mmm," Baze says, after popping the delectable treat into his mouth. "That's delicious. Definitely the best cheese I've ever tasted. It's very smooth; the flavor may not be strong, but I like the texture."

Baze hails a waitrat and orders surprise tea, as well as asking it to stay for whatever Bodhi likes.

"What flavor did you expect the cheese to have?"

Bodhi shakes his head, lips curled in a small smile. "I'm sure it's not the best cheese ever. You're just being nice now."

Bodhi likes the idea of surprise tea and orders the same. He's been drinking too much caf lately.

He shrugs, cutting another sliver. "Maybe a bit stronger. A bit more pronounced. I don't know. Maybe I need to mature it a bit longer.

He moves on to the blue cheese, offering a slice to Baze.

"I may be being nice, but I do mean it," Baze says, plucking the offered cheese out of Bodhi's hands with deft fingers. The large Guardian pops the treat into his mouth, chews contemplatively, and swallows.

"Oh, that's sharper. I like it, though I think I like the first one best."

"No, that is good." Bodhi nods, smiling slowly. "It would go well the pickles as part of a bar platter. I might have to do that next time I tend the bar." You can almost see the cogs turning in his head.

"Oh, sure, that would go really well with pickles," Baze says agreeably.

He has so many questions for Bodhi. What's his deal with Chirrut? Why does Bodhi seem to forgive Baze when they're together? And so on, but the peace between them is so, so fragile. Baze wants his answers, but he's loathe to agitate Bodhi even further, so the large Guardian isn't sure how to approach. And he promised they wouldn't fight.

Baze holds back a sigh. "So, tell me how you make cheese."

Bodhi goes into a fairly rudimentary but passionate explanation of the process of cheese making and the differences between the three styles. (Which his mun doesn't know enough to write.)

He seems brighter somehow as he talks, steadier, more in his element.

Baze collects their tea--Earl Grey Sencha--from the returned rat while Bodhi speaks, totally taken in by the explanation. The tea is a blend of a vegetal, sweet Sencha and a classic Earl Grey. It's a yellow-green, milky beverage with flecks of lime, infused with peppery, vanilla-tinged bergamot. Notes of tart-sweet citrus wash over the palate, leaving a clean, fresh aftertaste.

Baze peppers Bodhi with questions about the process of cheese making, asking about rennet and curds, mesophilic cultures, and how much bantha milk is required. He listens to everything Bodhi says patiently, drinking his tea in large gulps.

But the questions he asks aren't what he wants to ask--those are always on the tip of his tongue, and he almost chokes on them. Why, Bodhi? Why do you dislike Chirrut so much? Why did you say you wanted to apologize, and then... didn't? And so on.

Bodhi answers readily, already planning alterations to the next batch. Ways to make the flavours better, improve the colour and constancy.

He sips the tea almost absently, stopping to enjoy it. "I like this. What is it called?"

"I have no idea," Baze says, eyeing the dregs at the bottom of his cup. "We can ask the bar."

He hails a rat, and asks very politely to fetch a note explaining the surprise tea for today. The rat chitters at him and scurries off.

When it returns, it's clutching a napkin, which Baze takes and reads. "Earl Grey Sencha. Apparently it's a blend of Chinese and Japanese teas."

Edited 2017-09-04 09:02 (UTC)

Bodhi looks thoughtful. "Earth is so strange. So many cultures crammed into such a small planet. And each of them is so diverse." Coming from Jedha, it seems so odd. Even other worlds he visited have become homogenised by intergalactic travel.

"Yes," Baze says, handing his teacup to the rat, who carries it away for a refill.

"They have thousands of different languages. And so many different climates, too. They have forests and jungles and tundra and deserts--all one planet. It's bizarre."

Baze sighs, cupping his chin in his hand. He almost asks Bodhi why, why, why, but keeps holding back. Eventually, it will out.

"And different styles of food for all of them." Bodhi nods. "I met a man here who sells books. Proper paper books. The bar gave me credits so I have several from different cultures and places."

"Paper isn't rare on most Earths," Baze says, nodding exactly once. "Neither is wood."

He dithers about for a few moments, his fingers skating abstract patterns on the whorls of the wood table.

"Bodhi, I know we promised not to fight, but I have to ask you a question," Baze says, regretting the words as soon as they're out of his mouth. But he's already said them, so he can't take them back.

All is as the Force wills.

"Why do you hate Chirrut so much?"

The words bring a blaze to Bodhi's eyes, that steel he keeps forgetting he has.

It takes all he has to tamp it down, along with his rising temper.

He takes a deep breath, hands clenching and unclenching. "I don't hate him. I hate that you both lied to me."

Well. It's a start. Baze draws a breath through his nose--the nose that Bodhi broke. Baze considers the matter settled because of that. Apparently Bodhi doesn't.

Baze lays his palms down on the table and spreads his fingers. He'd like to lower his gaze, but he doesn't dare, keeping his eyes fixed on the broken pilot.

"I'm sorry we lied to you. If there's anything I do regret, it's that."

"I know." Bodhi manages to put his own hands on the table top. "That's- that's what makes it easier to- to talk with you. But Chirrut. I don't- it doesn't seem like he-" cares.

Baze considers this, regards the young man in front of him.

"Chirrut wants to be friends with you again," Baze says. Again. Because they were erstwhile companions. "He's just sore over the accusation that he'd shoot your kitten."

"Galen was out on the range too. I was worried for him and Kyber both. I know how much you both hate Galen." His voice starts to rise now. "And you've shown no compunction hurting him in the past."

Baze's voice stays on the same, even keel. If Bodhi wants to yell at him, that's fine; Baze refuses to take the bait.

"Did Galen not tell you that I was the one who attacked first, and that Chirrut stayed my hand?" Baze says, lacing his fingers together. "Chirrut wouldn't shoot Galen--and didn't. And he certainly wouldn't shoot an innocent creature like a kitten--and didn't."

Bodhi forces himself to breathe, to calm down. "No. Galen didn't tell me. Because even after all you did to him, he didn't want to come between us." It comes out as a soft growl. "He's a better man than me."

Baze breaks eye contact with Bodhi only to collect tea from the returned rat. The large Guardian returns his gaze to the small pilot's face, sipping the beverage calmly.

"And Chirrut is a better man than me. Your anger should be with me, not Chirrut."

Bodhi sighs. "I'm trying to get over that anger."

Baze sighs as well. He wraps his fingers around his teacup.

"And we appreciate that. Anger has teeth and claws. Once they sink into you, they're difficult to shake. But you don't need me to tell you that."

"No. I don't need you to tell me that." Bodhi's words have an edge to them.

Baze lets the words roll off of him like water off a duck's back.

"Now what?"

"I don't know." Bodhi admits, a little sadly.

Baze drains his tea, no longer savoring the delicious beverage. The drink warms him down to his bones.

"Should I leave you to your cheese?"

"Yes. I think that's best." Bodhi breathes. "But maybe you should take some with you. To share with Chirrut."

Baze cocks his head to the side. "Thank you for sharing what you've made with us. I'll leave you a hard apole cider with the bar later."

He waits until Bodhi has packaged the cheese he wants to give, arms itching to embrace the broken pilot. Baze keeps him at arm's length, ever wary. He's twice burned, once shy. He collects the dairy treats.

"Farewell, Bodhi. May the Force of others be with you."

Then Baze Malbus collects his staff and walks away.

(OOC: Thanks for the thread!)

"Thank you." Bodhi nods and finishes his tea, keeping his eyes low on the cup as Baze goes.

{ooc: thank you! That was... better.}