“Y’know,” Zaeed began, before promptly trailing off. He wasn’t sure how to word this. Not in a way that wouldn’t dampen the mood of the party, at least.

But he could hear everyone else in the room over, laughing as they danced and joked. He lifted the bottle of whiskey, which he snagged from the bar, to his lips, and took a sip. He wasn’t near drunk enough to have this conversation, but here they were.

“Didnt really expect an invitation,” he grunted. He paused with the drink at his lips before seeming to decide to take another swig. He hummed slightly. “Sorta thought you’d forget about me.”

He wouldn’t have blamed them, of course. He wasn’t like the heroes that joined up for the good of the cause, to save the galaxy. He was a merc. A gun for hire. Not exactly the type to go down in history books for anything more than an example of what not to do.