Today is the day. Lycuneae took her hair out of its standard high ponytail, running her fingers through it briefly before repeating the action with a comb. She had always liked her hair, its deep crimson locks reminded her of the blood she often spilled when fighting her enemies. In the past, some had complained that her hairstyle was too severe, said that she should wear her hair down more often to soften the look of her high forehead and slightly narrow eyes. She paid no attention to those critiques; to be a lord of the Sith, one could not be focusing undue attention on their appearance. That was a waste of energy, energy that could be spent on important tasks meant to secure power.

As she removed the last few knots from her hair, she thought of her master. While not what one would picture a 'typical' Sith Lord looking like, Baras' cunning and skills at manipulation made him nearly unmatched amongst his peers. She was honored to be his apprentice, honored to be the hand that worked to enforce his will throughout the galaxy. She hoped to continue working alongside him, at least until the day came when he died by her hand.

Her hair free of tangles, she returned it to its previous high ponytail before picking up a small cosmetics brush. She pondered the small collection of jars and tins that sat before her with a mix of puzzlement and curiosity. Having admitted to Vette that she didn't have the first clue about cosmetics and the wearing of them, the young Twi'lek had coerced both her and Jaesa into a quick 'girls only jaunt' into Kaas City to find the proper accoutrements. While she had been shown the proper way to use the cosmetics they chose for her, Lycuneae was still a bit hesitant. This was the domain of both her sister and aunt, whose elaborately painted faces hid equally cruel hearts. She herself had been taught to keep her face as clear and open as her heart, that she would learn her lessons more quickly that way.

Now, she was in the midst of learning a new lesson.

She selected a soft green eyeshadow, and dipped the tip of the brush into it. As she applied the pigment over one cold blue eye, she thought of Quinn. A smile formed on her lips as she remembered all the ways she teased him thus far through their mission together. Finishing the first eye to her satisfaction, she gave her other eye the same treatment, thinking of all the times she had pointed out the reddening of his ears, the ways she was obviously flustering him, their first shared kiss...

Her hand stilled for a moment as she remembered that kiss. He protested that their involvement together was improper, but they both knew they were attracted to one another. Her fingers trembled a bit, and she stifled a curse as she dropped the brush, the pigmented tip drawing a long smear down her cheek. Setting the brush aside, she wiped at the smear with her fingertips for a moment; when she saw the color wasn't budging, she switched to a damp towel to clean the spot. With it cleaned to her satisfaction, she hastily finished the rest of her makeup, then paused to admire her work in the mirror. She smiled at what she saw.

"This has to be the day," she said to her reflection. "The day he tells me his feelings for me."

Only a blind man could have missed the signs this day was coming. She caught every plaintive look he cast her way, saw several times where he appeared ready to speak and decided against it. For several days, this game had continued; she had even asked him point-blank what was troubling him, only to have him swiftly deny anything was amiss. Finally, only mere hours earlier, he had approached her as they were boarding the Fury and requested a private audience with her. It was a request she granted almost eagerly, and the look on his face told her he was as surprised as she was at her response.

As she left her quarters, Lycuneae's attention was caught by three of her crew members. Jaesa gave her usual sweet smile, inclining her head in a deferential bow. As she straightened, she gave her master a playful wink, which was swiftly returned. Since Nomen Karr's defeat, Jaesa had fit in well with the crew of the Fury; her knowledge of the Force and ability to take tactical direction had more than aided in a number of battles.

Next to her apprentice, Vette stood in her usual stance; she casually leaned against the nearby doorway with her arms folded. When their eyes met, Vette gave her a look that she knew all too well. It was that half-puzzled look she wore anytime Quinn was touched upon. One didn't need the Force to know what that look conveyed.

Lycuneae laughed a bit as she imagined Vette's words as that look translated them. Really? You and Captain Stuffy? Well, all right, if it makes you happy...

The gruff sound of someone clearing his throat caught her ear, and she turned her focus on Pierce. He sat in a chair that was positioned suspiciously close to the doorway to the cockpit. He had his large gun on his lap, and appeared for all intents and purposes to be cleaning it. But she knew better, particularly when her sharp eye caught a small tin sitting on a shelf clear across the room from where he sat. Without a second thought, she used the Force to pick up the tin and send it over to his seat. She smirked a bit when he accepted it, a surprised look briefly crossing his face.

"Working on that experimental 'dry polish' I've heard is so good to keep guns from rusting?" she asked. "Or just trying to find an excuse to sit near the cockpit door?"

"Err, I must...I must have left it on the shelf when I was looking for a place to sit," he replied, though she could easily hear him scrambling to cover the lie. "Space travel always makes me a bit forgetful, y'know?"

"I understand. Just make sure it doesn't make you forget your place, Lieutenant," she said stiffly.

"Of course not, my lord."

Passing by Pierce, Lycuneae stopped at the doorway to the cockpit. If she were anyone else, one might think she was hesitating, or even afraid. And maybe she was, romance was new territory for her, after all. But she would be damned if she let that get in her way.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the doorway. All the while, she felt the eyes of her crew on her, and she resisted the urge to groan and roll her eyes. This was already going to prove awkward enough without contending with an audience.

"Quinn?" she ventured, letting her eyes adjust to the lighting in the cockpit.

"Of course, Captain! It would be an honor to have you serve with me again, especially after what you did for me against Broysc's men," the cheerful voice of Major Ovech echoed through the cockpit from its origin in the small holotransmitter. "Once you receive clearance from Her Lordship, just send authorization over, and we can finalize things. It's quite generous of her, allowing you to transfer before you complete your mission."

"Err, yes. It truly is," Quinn rubbed a spot behind his left ear, a habit he had somehow picked up when he felt the slightest twinge of anxiety. The worst part was that, short of cutting his hands off at the wrists, he saw no simple way to break himself of it. He hated that annoying little habit; no matter how discreet he tried to be, anyone in the same room as him could zero in on it and use it to knock him down a peg. He would have to work harder at being the stoic, cool-headed Imperial officer he had been raised to be. "I have actually not broached the topic with her yet. I have requested an audience with her to discuss the matter. She should be along any minute."

"Excellent. Keep me posted, Captain." As the image flickered out, Quinn slumped into the captain's chair behind him, pressing his fingers to his temples. He felt stuck. Trapped between two different factions that were pulling him two different directions. He was bound to Baras, felt indebted to him for both his life and his career. Yet he was also indebted to her, to his new lord. She had given him so many chances to expand his knowledge and levels of expertise in ways that would only better serve the Empire. She also opened his mind in other ways; his newly-found appreciation for art and music was just one of them. She also encouraged him to read more and to learn other ways to clear his mind and refocus, which were of great assistance when they inevitably wandered into yet another dangerous situation.

He didn't know. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Malavai Quinn had no answer that would fix his current situation. When he had first joined her crew, he had approached Baras' mission with great gusto. He funneled all sorts of strategic information to his master throughout their travels, always away from the eyes of his lord. More recently, however, he was mustering less and less motivation to send those reports. When he did send them, he only sent the minimum amount of information Baras requested; he didn't have the heart to send the fully detailed reports of the past.

Damn her for being so distracting. He had to find a way off this ship before...

"Quinn?" The voice calling his name abruptly halted his thoughts. Hastily, he stood from his seat, clearing his throat as he faced the viewport. He clenched his fists behind his back, hoping he could disguise their shaking.

"Yes, my lord. I am here, as I said I would be." He turned to face her as she entered the room, suppressing a smile as he watched her rest her hands on her hips. Even though she was his superior, he had always thought her beautiful in a way. Not the same way Nesha had been; hers had been a beauty cultivated by privilege and upbringing. Where his former fiance had been slim and delicate, his lord was strong and powerful. Where Nesha had been gentle and quiet-spoken, Lord Lycuneae was commandeering and forceful. The stark contrast between these two women who had graced his life made his head swim.

He needed to focus. He let his gaze fall on his lord's face, only to find himself staring in a puzzled fashion. "My lord," he began. "If I may inquire, are you wearing cosmetics?"

He thought he could spot her blush. "I...Vette told me I would look nicer with a little extra color," she replied, sounding slightly shaky. "Since you requested an audience, I thought it a good test of my application skills."

"Yes, well...it looks quite nice, my lord," he responded crisply. He immediately noted the flicker of disappointment that appeared in her blue eyes. Had he said the wrong thing?

He watched her give a shrug. "Well, Captain. I'm here, as you requested," she said.

It's now or never, Malavai. He told himself. He took a deep breath before clearing his throat again. "Yes, and I thank you for your attention, my lord," he answered. "I must officially request to be reassigned."

Before he could say another word, she burst out laughing. He stood staring at her in shock as she fought to stifle her laughter. He didn't think he had said anything humorous, so why did she react this way?

"Oh, Quinn. Have you finally discovered a sense of humor?" She asked. Her smile faded as he emphatically shook his head, one eyebrow raising over an icy blue eye. "Then why do you ask me this? Is this mission too harrowing for you, Captain?"

Unconsciously, he flinched at the barb he could hear in the title. He knew he would have to tread carefully. "Not at all," he answered. "On the contrary, I thrive on harrowing."

"Then why do you ask me this?" she repeated. "Why in the galaxy would I want that?" He noted her hands slowly curling into fists where they sat on her hips, and he could hear the tinge of anger in her voice. She was losing patience with him, he needed to remedy this or else lose even the remote chance of her approving his reassignment.

"For the sake of you and the crew," he answered. Seeing her eyebrow raise even further, he continued. "Because I am forced to admit I am compromised," he replied. He watched her face for any further reaction, but saw none. "Thoughts of you have begun to...distract me. My feelings affect my ability to concentrate. It is for that reason that I cannot, in good conscience, continue to serve you."

He watched her silently drop her hands from her hips. She turned her back to him, taking a few steps across the cockpit to the opposite wall. He wasn't sure if she was angry or upset or some other emotion he couldn't quantify.

He felt it prudent to continue. "I just spoke with Major Ovech via holo," he said, taking a few steps toward her. "He told me that with your authorization..."

"No."

The whispered word was harsh, causing him to stop speaking. He cautiously took another step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. "My lord..." he began again.

"Don't. Touch me!" Before he could jump back, she had whirled back around to face him, a blast of Force energy knocking him backwards. The backs of his knees hit the captain's chair, and he involuntarily sank into it with a grunt. He felt the blood drain from his face, had the terrible feeling this was about to go very wrong very quickly.

"Tell me, Quinn. Are you a man, or are you a rodent?" she asked, an acidic tone edging every word. "Because if you can't take it, Quinn, I'll deposit you back on Balmorra to rot instead. And I'll never give you the luxury of another thought. You can watch the HoloNet for news on the real action."

She crossed the small space between them, standing so close her knees nearly touched his. Hesitantly, he looked up at her face, noted what appeared to be damp streaks on her cheeks. Was she crying?

"Drop your eyes, Quinn. I did not give you permission to look me in the face." At hearing the harsh, snapped command, he dropped his gaze. He focused on his right hand where it lay clenched in his lap, noted the trembling he had seen earlier appeared to now be much worse.

"If you ever go behind my back and speak to another soul about being reassigned without conferring with me first, you will be fortunate if I let you keep your limbs intact," she hissed. "Request for reassignment denied. You are dismissed, Captain."

As she turned to leave the cockpit, Quinn weakly stretched his right hand out to her back. "But...my lord, please..." he said.

"I said you are dismissed. Do not try my patience, Captain," she replied.

Woodenly, he dropped his hand back to its prior resting place on his lap. His head was positively reeling from what had transpired over the prior few minutes. How had he misjudged things so badly? What he thought would be a simple, routine request had turned into something far worse. Now, he wasn't sure what to think, or even what to do.

He heard her muffled voice snapping an order to Pierce. Leaning forward in the chair, he buried his face in his hands.

How am I ever going to fix this mess? He asked himself. The lack of a forthcoming answer did not bode well for his flagging confidence.