After being sure the Lorrdain siblings had made it safely to the Imperial Palace, the Watcher made his way to his apartment to get himself cleaned up after the fight. He flicked on the glowlamps, revealing a small place. Perhaps calling it an apartment was too kind, it was more like a small dorm room at an underfunded college.
The walls were bare, the bed immaculately made, untouched for who knows how long. A small desk stood in the corner with a terminal that looked as though it dated back to the Empire itself. Next to it was an old still-holograph showing the family he'd lost so very long ago. Beside the holograph lay an ornately carved forty- by fourteen-centimetre box.
He made his way to the tiny 'fresher, pulling a small modified medkit from the wall beside the shaving mirror, then moved back down to sit on the edge of the narrow bed. Quickly he ran some alcohol over his bruised and abraded knuckles, foregoing more... traditional treatment.
He deserved the slow healing, and the pain involved. He should have gotten to that alleyway sooner. This was his self-inflicted punishment for being too slow, taking too long, allowing trouble to begin and not being able to avert it as he had in Central Park, NYC, on a planet so very far away from here.
Knowing his charge was safe for the time being, he shrugged on his jacket and headed out for a walk. Shortly, he found himself before a familiar doorway and decided to try and smooth things over while he was around.
He pulled a hand from his jacket pocket and rapped on the door, wincing slightly at the stinging sensation in his knuckles.
"Who's there?" a distinctively male voice answered from within.
"Wes Janson? What're you doing here?" He watched as the door slid open, revealing a much shorter man bearing the intelligence agent's day uniform flightsuit in one hand. "I was just comming by to see-"
"She's not here."
"Where is she then?" the taller man folded his hands atop his head as he leaned against the doorjamb.
"You might ask her Unc... er, you might ask Wedge," Wes shifted his weight to his opposite foot and regarded his friend, and occasional rival, with a smirk.
"I might, but I don't know just how long I'll be around. Work, you know - maybe you've heard of it?"
"Oh yeah, you and your watching. Working for anybody I know?" Wes winked.
"Just the usual rescuing of damsels in distress..." he paused imperceptibly as a few sentients walked by, then continued without missing a beat. "You know if I told you I'd have to kill you," he chuckled.
"Yeah, and then you'd have to explain yourself," Wes laughed as he waved his free hand, "and I know that's something you don't want to do."
He shook his head and motioned to the uniform clutched in the shorter man's fist, "Who's that for?"
"A friend," he smiled secretively.
"Do you often lend her clothing out to strange girls?"
Wes leaned up conspiratorily and the other man had to lean down to be able to hear him. "This girl's Hobbie's girlfriend, I don't think she'd mind."
He feigned surprise, stepping back as the identity of the beneficiary became clear to him. He saw Wes' eyes twinkle as the man saw his meaning perceived. "A girlfriend?" he chuckled, playing along with whatever his friend was gaming.
"In fact," Wes went on with a growing conspiratorial grin, "She kinda looks like you - striped hair and everything... well, except you've gone all green," he laughed while nodding to a few more passers by. "C'mon!"
"No, I'm sure that's okay. Maybe I'll-"
"It won't hurt anything, I promise," Wes chuckled, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the med-bay. "You're the F.E.S. {1}, you can't be afraid to meet up with anyone in med-bay!"
"You know what I mean..." he muttered under his breath as he allowed the Major to drag him away.
It wasn't long before they reached their destination. The Watcher looked in the window, and sighed. Sylvana was seated quietly, bandages wrapped around both arms, her elbows resting on her knees as she watched her younger brother floating peacefully in the Bacta tank.
He then realised what Wes had wanted him to see. "I've gotta go, see you later!" he waved a hand and promptly vanished.
"But-" he shook his head and turned to go into the waiting room, muttering to himself. "Sith, I hate it when you do that."
The Dour Watcher, known to his friends as 'Fes' (for most were not privy to his true name), turned the corner and headed away from the grumbling pilot. It wasn't long before he ran into Face, who was on his way to the medbay, having been sent there by Ooryl.
He grinned to himself as he silently moved to walk just behind the Captain. He leaned forward and whispered into his ear.
"Hey 'Rikki." He darted away and smothered his laughter as Face whirled around.
"I know you're there, Fes! Show yourself!" He glowered as the other man appeared, seemingly from nowhere, a grin the size of which would rival a Krayt Dragon's maw firmly in place. Face walked over and jabbed a finger in the centre of his chest. "I told you NEVER to call me that in public!"
Fes exaggeratedly looked around at the empty hallway. "I wouldn't call this public," he chuckled. "See you later 'Rikki!"
Face shook his head as the other man vanished. "I wish he wouldn't keep doing that, you knever know when he'll show up," he grumbled to himself.
"You never know when I'm watching...."
Face chuckled and shook his head at the disembodied voice, then kept on his way.
{1} The F.E.S. = The Farsighted Esoteric Safeguard