Old Friends, New Enemies

[Bette Davis]

Half lounging in her sports bra and underwear, Bette watched him pull on his clothes. As he talked her expression changed minutely, her lively eyes deadening a little. "Of course I don' agree with what that bastard did t' Alderaan." The alcohol was still coursing through her system, and as this was her room she snuggled down into the bed a little more, her head pillowed on a curled arm.

"Jus' who d'ya think I am, anyway?" She scowled at him. "But peace is not a terrible cause. Galactic governments have zillions of people in them, an' they deserve to live in a universe wi'out terrorists."

Bette shook her head at Perris, who seemed to be unable to find his boots. "I swore an oath, Kelly, an' I'll uphold it because I've hitched m' wagon to the people who are keeping the galaxy safe. Tarkin was a bastard... but things are so... different now.

"An' my word means something. Somethin' you seemed t' have no trouble forgettin' when you were breakin' yours."

[Kelly Perris]

He looked on her with a hard eye, then went back to the search for his well-worn and comfortable boots. The amount of alcohol ingested coupled with the fact that his imbibing partner was her seemed to make his footwear elusive without fail, nearly every time. He had to wonder if some fashion of Bespin gas gnomes were under her command to do so.

"That is a false safety and I am saddened that you can so easily turn a blind eye to such vast oppression and blatantly insidious propaganda." It was his turn to scowl. He stopped looking for his boots (he was sure know that they might have snuck under the bed) and stood full up as much as he could and looked at her, not breaking his line of nearly glaring sight.

"That word means nothing on a foundation of foul lies, Bette. I woke up to that long ago."

[Bette Davis]

She threw his boots at him, smacking him in the chest with them from the other side of the bed despite her state of drunkenness. "My word means everythin'."

Bette glared, and then grabbed her boots and threw them at him as well, for good measure. "So... frak you, Perris!"

[Kelly Perris]

"But you already did." He said with a pained smirk, ducking her boots after taking at least one of his to his right shoulder, the heel roughly grazing his jaw.

Yes, he had the gall to joke amidst everything that was going on and not going on. It was a morsel that was just too incredibly hard to resist, even given the fact that she might figure out eventually just why he was giving her such a hard time. That is, if he didn't tell her or simply let it slip by accident. The fact that he had dropped about a billion incredibly vague and obscure hints already and none of them really seemed to register was making him a little antsy. He hadn't been expecting none of what had happened tonight at all. Furthermore, from the moment he'd laid eyes on her earlier in the night, he was certain it would have gone south much faster than this.

Kelly turned around and bent over to retrieve his boots and hers. The only show she got here was a behind she was more than familiar with and the fact that its firm nature didn't change much at all in the six-ish years since they'd last been face to face might have been of some surprise given the amount of change most regular people tend to go through in less time than that. When he stood up and turned around to face her again, he had his boots dangling from his left hand by his left thigh and knee... hers, held up by his right hand, dangled forwards at her - taunting, in a way. The look on his face was an accompaniment to the tease. He grinned and dropped his boots, slipping his feet into them and being thankful that they landed straight with a thud as he did so. Perris dropped her boots and bent, lacing his boots with the speed like he'd done it a million times before - which was more than the truth.

"So're ya gonna kick my ass or what? This is probably the best chance you'll ever get, seein' as you can't seem to hit me or most of my men, much less the broad side of an SSD." He said, doing the last tie-off on his boots and rising to look on Bette again.

So he'd said it, although the mention was halfway in obscurity again. The half-serious, mostly smirk teased at the concept of a rogueish grin on his face as he reached for his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, hanging it there with two fingers and a thumb for the clincher, ready for anything. The haze had begun to part a short while ago and he'd barely noticed.

[Bette Davis]

"I jus' did hit you," she retorted, and was already turned around and halfway to the refresher when what Kelly had said filtered through the alcohol. Biological need outweighed outrage, and she sat on the head, the door open while she peed.

Perhaps he hadn't just said what she thought he said.

She sat there after she was done, head still swirling with all the shots she'd consumed just a few hours ago. Perris wasn't visible through the door, but he was still moving around the room.

When she got up and pulled her underwear back on, she walked to the open door and leaned tiredly against the jam. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Get out."

[Kelly Perris]

Yeah, she got it. He figured as much, given the lack of words she had to return at him. Furthermore, the evidence on her face and the tone of her voice as she told him quite plainly to leave (in shorter, not-as-nice words, but still nicer than ones she could have used) was very telling. He shifted his weight back and forth between his two feet and set to pulling on his coat.

"Or else what, Bette? The truth hurts, doesn't it?" He grew silent a moment, stuffing his hands into the pockets of said coat. "At least I didn't lie to you. Would you rather not have known?"

He didn'ty budge an inch from where he stood, locking her with a half-hard stare, streaked with regret and utter honesty. Kelly Perris may have been a bit of a playboy over the years, a hotshot pilot, the man who could likely drink anyone and everyone under the table, but there was one thing he was not and never would be and that was a liar.

"Let me tell you that it is much harder to confess for your sins than it is to live with them."

[Bette Davis]

The tears were still streaming down her face, streaking her black eye makeup down her cheeks. "You didn't...didn't... lie to me?" Bette started to shake.

There were no words to express what she felt. He'd kept the truth from her... he hadn't just deserted, he'd gone over to the Rebellion. He'd let her believe a lie.

And now that she knew... she had a duty.

She disappeared back into the refresher for a second, and reappeared, her service blaster pistol between both hands. She pointed it at him, centering it directly on Perris' chest.

"Get. Out." She couldn't stop crying, and the blaster was shaking, but she was giving him the chance to go. His friendship had meant that much to her, she was giving him a chance. Bette screamed, "Get out, frak you, I don't want to do this!"

[Kelly Perris]

"Then don't. You have a choice. You always have."

He headed for the door, but before letting it open, before getting that close, oddly, he stopped and smiled at her, a distinct lack of fear present at the fact that she had her service blaster pointed somewhat shakily at him. He wanted to step forward and close the gap, take the blaster away from her by force and help her understand, but until she was willing... until anyone was willing, there was nothing you could do.

"It is not your duty to end lives, Shooter. It is your duty to protect them. Remember that."

He turned and stepped the last foot or two to the door, hearing it whoosh open. He went to leave, but stopped again in the doorway. It grated against his better self. The way she looked behind the pistol made him want to show her what a gentleman was. Foolish notions for another day, another time. A different life, certainly.

"And remember me. I know I couldn't ever forget you if I tried and I don't want to." He said, tipping his head to her. "Goodbye, Bette Davis."

He turned his back to her and her blaster and stepped out into the middle of the night. The door whooshed shut in hesitant finality.