[OOM]

“We had a deal, Jaq.”

So far, the meeting hadn’t been going well.

“’S just one favour, Reiko. C’mon, old friends?”

Old friends was, Atton suspected, the wrong way to put it. A former subordinate in the Sith, an ex-girlfriend from after the Sith, but never really friends. He would’ve much preferred to keep his distance from the Coruscant art gallery where she worked.

Atton took a step back as the nearby woman stopped examining a painting to whirl on him, scowling and striding over to him, raising one hand to jab him in the chest. Atton took another step back, raising his hands defensively.

“I did you one favour when I didn’t throw you out,” Reiko snapped. “We had a deal. You said you wouldn’t contact me anymore. What happens if somebody sees you here?”

“Aw, worried your husband will see me and think you’re socialising with riff-raff? Or worse, even.” Atton wiggled his eyebrows at her, grinning at her. Reiko’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile outright.

“I’m worried that I’m going to get all your enemies on my doorstep. See, some of us have made lives for ourselves.”

“Look, I’m not going t’put you in any danger. I just need you and Leyo to dig around for me, okay? And then you never have t’see me again.”

Reiko sighed, running a hand through her hair. It was a gesture Atton had grown very familiar with - She was relenting, giving him a chance.
“Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

[OOM]

The room glowed faintly green from the light of the kolto tank. It was the only light that still worked propery - The cheery yellow lights flickered on and off.

”We’re associating with petty Outer Rim warlords now? I’d no idea we were so desperate.” Roza remarked, dryly, as Bob brushed away the dust from the plaque beneath the tank, his face lighting up with a broad grin.

“Evidently. But he’s a powerful petty Outer Rim warlord, and he has connections that will be useful to us.”

Roza shifted her form into Atton’s, patting down a particularly spikey tuft of hair.
“And that’ll satisfy your little obsession.” At Bob’s glare, he shifted into another form, hair turning garishly red.

Bob shook his head, quietly, looking up at the figure that floated in the tank, then down at the plaque.

L. Wulfric.
Damage to his spinal column.
Severe burns.
Brain dead.

“Miriam,” Bob called, absently patting his leg. His legs still ached, occasionally - Phantom aches that he knew had nothing to do with their being crushed a year before (Miriam had healed them of any damage, after all) but more to do with his own fear. “We have need of your talents.”

-------

To say Wulfric had awoken with a bang would’ve been to give him too little credit. Even lacking his full powers, the outburst of energy he’d created when he’d awoken had left every other tank in the room ruined.

Bob stepped over a piece of rubble, towards the figure in the corner, gnawing on an apple and watching him with bright, golden eyes, almost hidden by his hair.
“How does it feel, eating for the first time in almost thirty years?”

Wulfric didn’t respond.

Bob persevered: “At least answer this - What do you say to my offer?”

A lopsided grin spread across Wulfric’s face.
“I’m game.”