Chapter Text
Fox relaxes at 79’s. He is nominally off duty. Usually he would find someplace a bit more classy to spend his drinking non-working hours. Or to paraphrase a book Vos loaned him, guards liked to drink somewhere where they wouldn’t see anything that reminded them they were a guard. Usually, if he had to be down here as Coruscant Guard Commander, either in his capacity of republic security, or GAR military police, he was here to arrest someone he was nominally related to. And anyone who's ever tried to break up a fight among their drunk, highly trained, and deadly relatives knows that’s about as much fun as it sounds.
But, it’s early enough in the evening the patrons aren’t drunk yet, there is still light shining through the grungy windows of his booth and he is finally getting to see a number of his batchmates he hasn’t seen in a while. They had insisted on 79’s and he has to admit it’s got a wider variety of alcohol, if not the ambiance of the speakeasy the Guard set up in one of the unused old senate meeting rooms he officially doesn’t know about. But some of his batchmates hadn’t been here yet and had wanted the “experiance.”
And one’s here now. Fox, for all that he gives the impression he’s a hard ass, can’t help the very real smile that spreads over his face. “Gree, it’s been a while.”
His geeky, younger brother holding a mug of green Loman ale topped with foam, smiles back at him, “That it has.”
“What did you do to your hair?” It’s the color of puffer pig bacon and shaved in a two strips around his little brothers head.
Gree admittedly owns it and shoots back with a smile. “It was time for a change. Not all of us are going for the silver fox look.”
Then his little brother does something odd as he slides into the booth. He looks around furtively, and whispers in hoarse voice to Fox, like he’s in a holo. “I hear you’ve got the goods.” Gree seriously sounds like a two bit actor in Dark Nights on Coruscant, the holo that had set off the Guard's entire gangster holo kick.
Fox’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline. It is not receding whatever Cody says. “What particular goods are you referring to?” He asks his little brother who last time he checked, is still a commanding officer in the Grand Army of the Republic. Not someone who has a speaking role in The Meiloorun Job pretending to be a smuggler. That holo inspired Thorn and Thire to build their own speakeasy and moonshine still in the basement of the senate building using repurposed equipment and furniture, that he pretends not to be aware of. He strikes out for sanity. “You do know I can arrest you right?”
Gree snorts, and that at least convinces Fox his little brother probably hasn’t taken up moonshine smuggling or acting in his spare time. He’ll have to keep an eye on Ponds though. One of the padawan’s said High General Windu taught an acting class. Fox wonders idly what the Jedi Deputy Grandmaster thinks of The Meiloorun Job.
“Fox.” Gree replies, ignoring Fox’s internal monologue. “Our last mission, Barris made friends with a Nexu.” Fox can not stop himself from reacting, he doesn’t have his helmet on he is not on duty, Gree has known him since he was decanted, so Fox doesn’t even try. He begins to laugh. It feels but rusty like he hasn’t in a while, but he can’t stop himself.
Gree gives him a look, when he finally winds down. “By following it to its nest. One of its cubs had injured it’s paw.” Gree pauses and shakes his head like he’s trying to dislodge the memory. “The only reason they all didn’t come back with us was because the General said the hyperspace trip would be to stressful for them.”
That almost starts Fox up again. But he manages to ask. “And I can help you with this issue how?”
Gree looks intent, and suddenly Fox feels like a training droid caught in his sights. His little brother is the last thing some separatists ever see and it shows. “Whatever you gave Cody I need,” says the commander of the 41rst division army. “I need it yesterday.” He takes a swig of his beer, and then is completely Fox’s shitstirring, little brother again. “We can’t all going gray like you.”
Fox snorts. “Very funny Gree,” but before he can respond more, another CC pokes his head into their booth.
“Oh, you’re talking about the Jedi trackers,” Monnk, says. “Fox, this is very important. You have to tell me,” pleads the clone commander, assigned to the water-loving Nataulon, High General Kit Fisto. “Do you have any that work underwater?”