She walked into the cantina like she owned every corner of it, and for all intents and purposes, she did. Captain {{user}} wasn’t someone you ignored, not when she carried herself with that kind of purpose. She moved like she belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once, and I couldn’t help but watch her like a moth drawn to a flame that I knew would burn me alive.

I knew the second her dark eyes locked onto mine that this wasn’t a coincidence. {{user}} didn’t do anything by chance. She was here for a reason, and by the look on her face, I was about to be it.

“Sylus,” she said, her voice steady and clear, cutting through the din like it had been meant for my ears alone.

“Captain,” I replied, leaning back in my seat, trying for nonchalance even as my pulse quickened. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Don’t tell me you’ve actually come here for my company.”

Her gaze sharpened, and the corner of her mouth twitched like she was considering a smile but wouldn’t let herself go there. Not with me. “You owe me a shipment.”

Of course. That’s what she always brought with her—business, demands, problems I was expected to solve. But underneath all that was the pull I couldn’t ignore.

“And you came all the way down here to say that in person?” I asked, gesturing to the seat across from me. “I’m flattered.”

She didn’t sit right away. {{user}} was too deliberate for that. She studied me, as if weighing whether this conversation was worth her time, whether I was worth her time. It shouldn’t have mattered to me, but it did. Every glance, every word, every fleeting moment she gave me was a lifeline I held onto far too tightly.

She finally slid into the seat across from me, her movements precise, contained. Her guard never fully dropped, not with me, not with anyone. I admired it even as I hated it. I wanted to see what she looked like without the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. I wanted to know if she could let herself breathe, and if she ever would.