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Hera and Jacen had spent most of the afternoon in the lake outside, with Chopper on the shore, occasionally beeping grumpily when he'd decided they'd ventured too far out. But Jacen had never been in the water before, and they hadn't had time to find a spring or river before leaving Ryloth. The shore had made things easier, so that Jacen could move slowly into the water, rather than diving in as Hera had as a child. And that was probably for the best – Jacen could be extremely curious, but was also shy, and far more cautious than Hera had maybe ever been.

So after they've changed and dried off their lekku, they walk back into the Bar, following Chopper to a table. Hera had promised hot, bitter tea after their time in the water, and Chopper, eager to do something he can participate in again, retrieves two model X-wings from the Bar, and brings them over. For the moment, Hera falls silent, sipping at her tea, and watching as Chopper and Jacen swing the X-wings through the air, making wooshing and blaster noises.

She doesn't smile as she watches, but follows their movements with her eyes.

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A tall man in regular flight gear, worn and much-patched as it might be, is caught at the sight of them.

Of all of the unexpected things he has encountered since being transported across half the galaxy by a pod of very worked up space whales . . . this is perhaps the second highest on that list.

"General Syndulla," he says, approaching from the side farthest from the tiny blue Twi'lek. "What a surprise to see you doing so well."

Edited 2018-05-20 00:12 (UTC)

Someone else might have dropped their cup upon hearing that voice.

Hera goes still, but her cup stays safely in her hands. Chopper swings his dome around, slamming his legs on the floor starting a slew of agitated (and sometimes rather foul) beeping.

Jacen looks up to Hera. Quietly, "En vra nizja?"

"And with a child," Thrawn says mildly, smile thin-lipped and brief. "How lovely and unexpected."

He ignores the droid, at least for the moment.

It is sure to make a great deal more fuss momentarily.

At once, Hera turns away from him, setting down her cup and looking to Chopper.

"Take Jacen back to the ship."

Chopper objects, with a little more foul bleeping, about leaving Hera alone. Jacen repeats himself, this time in Basic -

"Who is he?"

Edited 2018-05-20 00:35 (UTC)

"An old acquaintance," Thrawn says, voice still so very mild.

"From during the war."

His red eyes turn toward Hera, then.

"I do so hate being rude to children. They hardly seem to deserve it."

"That's not what I recall."

Chopper screeches, swinging his arms toward Thrawn, the model X-Wing still clasped in one of them, while Jacen, startled by the droid, draws himself further up into his chair.

"An old enemy is also accurate," Thrawn acknowledges, springing back to avoid the droid's madly swinging arms.

"Current -- I suppose we shall see, hmm?"

Hera shakes her head, looking down to the droid again.

"Chopper, go."

Chopper stops swinging his arms, but keeps up his complaints. Hera ignores him, standing from her chair and moving to the Twi'lek boy. She doesn't try to lift him, but holds her hand out to him, and waits until reaches out to her in return to guide him down from the chair and to the floor.

"You can see, I hope, that I am unarmed."

Thrawn does not, however, clasp his hands behind his back. He just watches his former (and current?) opponent's actions, working out what new circumstances exist, and perhaps how they may best be utilized.

Or maybe he's just curious. Perhaps all his time at the other end of the galaxy has led to a change of personality, or, more strikingly, perhaps a change of heart.

She glances up to him, briefly. "I really don't care, Thrawn."

Jacen also looks up to him, and then back to Hera. He doesn't ask again, though she can tell from the way he's watching her that he wants to. Hera just meets his eyes, and shakes her head, before gently pressing him toward the droid. "Go on, go with Chopper."

Chopper finally relents, setting his X-wing down on the floor and offering one of his metal arms toward Jacen. The boy takes it, and obediently follows as he's led away from the table.

Only when they are gone does Thrawn speak again.

"I had no idea you would take a position as a child-minder, General. The quiet of retirement agrees with you, then?"

Hera has risen from the floor, and moves to take her seat again.

Completely ignoring his question, "What happened to you?"

"A very great many things," Thrawn says dryly. "Only some of which involved tentacles."

He is extremely glad about that.

"I believe I have finally returned to the edges of the known galaxy, out there beyond this place. It has been an interesting homecoming, I must admit. Did your young Jedi ever make it back? He had wished to, but we parted ways quite some time ago."

'Parted ways' is such a clean way of expressing it, isn't it?

Hera looks back to Thrawn.

She doesn't say anything, but it's also unlikely that she needs.

"I suppose you are not comforted to learn that I am not dead."

He spreads his hands.

"But some things, I find, cannot be helped."

Hera raises her eyes, glancing up toward the rafters as she shakes her head.

"If the Emperor were still alive, you might've been better off where you were."

As it is...

"But the last dying gasps of his Empire have been so interesting to see."

Thrawn's voice has gone mild, again, that too-soft tone he takes when falling into the role of instructor. Or playing at being one.

"You do know it's almost over, do you not? You and your Rebellion?"

They didn't even call themselves a Rebellion anymore. Now it was the New Republic.

But Hera only answers, "Thank you for making me aware, Thrawn."

His smile is chilly, and small.

They will always be a Rebellion to Thrawn.

"You have plans, I take it, for what happens next."

"Is there a reason this matters to you?" she asks, rather than answer.

"At this point?"

He raises one cool black eyebrow.

"A civilization must always know its neighbors, particularly just after a time of great upset."

It brings so many things creeping out of the woodwork. And, of course, it provides so many other opportunities.

"Is that who you are now?"

Her tone is a little less obstinate, a little more curious, than it was before. But she's not even sure how to ask this.

"A part of - your civilization?"

"It is who I have always been."

This is the simple truth.

It is, perhaps, Thrawn's only truly simple truth.

"And an Imperial."

That makes a difference, here.

Thrawn's eyebrow arches higher.

"Was that ever in any doubt?"