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After a beach vacation that may or may not have been relaxing (depending on who you asked), after they’d received their new ship, and after they’d farewelled the Verpine, it was time for Tryst to contact Vous-Vous. Well, it was time for it, but that didn’t mean Tryst was making that call. Sometimes the brave and heroic decision was to browse online dating profiles and ignore your responsibilities. At least that’s what Tryst told himself.
And whether the force was with him, or whether a lightside point was flipped, we’ll never know. But whatever the cause, Tryst hit dating profile gold. And by gold he meant orange, because kriff, this was one attractive orange lady.
“K.A.T.,” he said. “Send electronic business card recipe.”
In addition to informing the woman that he was the Tryst Valentine: Sex . Criminal, Tryst sent a number of messages and holos. Dictated and nude respectively.
For the first and last time in his life, Trystan Valentine got a reply to a message on a dating site.
Knock it off, or I tell Rendezvous.
And because the shadow tenets were irrelevant as this wasn’t a quinennial meeting, Tryst did math, put two and two together, and got an ex-jedi.
…
“I still can’t believe we arranged this meeting through a dating site,” said Tryst.
“I still can’t believe someone replied to a message from you,” said Leenik.
“And I still think this is a terrible idea,” said Lyn. “Her profile listed her as a bounty hunter, Bacta’s going to have next to no back-up, and Tamlin’s a four-minute walk away.”
“The boy’s on the ship,” said Tryst. “This is fine, he’ll be fine.”
“Why does she want to hurt Tony?”
“Really Leenik? Really?”
“Can everybody please shut the kriff up?” said Bacta. “Stay here, keep watch, and just - ” his voice hitched. “Just let me do this. Please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“And just how hard-” Lyn slapped a hand over Tryst’s mouth.
“Tryst. No.”
And so the three of them shut the kriff up and kept watch while Bacta entered the diner Sian had suggested as a meeting point.
She sat at a table in the corner, an untouched plate of food in front of her. This was it. Just over five years of running, and revenge, and thinking she was dead. Finally, Bacta was reunited with the woman he loved.
“Hey Bacta, is she alive?”
“Yeah, are you or aren’t you a black widow? How worried do I need to be for my sister?”
Reunited with the woman he loved with two idiots on his comm who were going to hear the whole thing.
“Shut up the pair of you!”
Two idiots and Lyn.
Bacta sighed. Ignoring the voices in his ear he walked over and sat down.
“Hello Sian.”
…
Despite the constant comm chatter, Bacta and Sian talked. And talked. And were still talking when Tryst, Leenik and Lyn got bored and walked into the diner.
“Heeeeeyyyy,” said Tryst.
“No,” said Sian.
“Ugghhhh, just slap him. It’s all he understands,” said Leenik.
“Don’t slap him!” said a panicked Bacta.
“Why don’t we all just have some food?” Sian suggested. “I hear this place does really good toast.”
“Kriff that,” said Tryst. He wandered off. A conversation with a waiter and a slap later, Tryst returned to the table with a tray full of pink nebulas.
…
It was a somewhat tipsier group that returned to the ship. Sian and Lyn had linked arms and were talking excitedly about the living force. Bacta was walking along slightly dazed, looking like he was either going to pass out or float away out of pure happiness. He’d secretly pinched himself several times, but still couldn’t believe this was real.
…
“He’s strong,” said Sian, later that night.
She’d met Tamlin, who had asked if she was going to take away his lightsaber, his lower lip trembling. Now, Tamlin was sleeping on Bacta’s lap, while everyone else sat around the kitchen table. Leenik had brewed some tea.
“Can you help him?” asked Bacta.
Sian smiled at him.
“I’ll try.” She reached out and touched his hand.
“Get a room,” muttered Leenik.
“Or don’t,” suggested Tryst, waggling his eyebrows. His cup of tea mysteriously fell over and spilt all over his hand.
“And Bacta was the one who said he was down to fuck on his dating profile,” said Sian. “Seriously Tryst, I will tell your sister.”
“What?” Tryst, Bacta, Leenik, Lyn and Neemo said in unison, though not all for the same reasons or in the same tone.
“What did I do?” asked Tryst.
“Down to what?” asked Bacta. He looked horrified.
“It’s a weird outer rim slang word for vape,” said Sian.
“No, I know that, Tryst says… but I never said…”
“DTF,” said Sian. “Down to fuck.”
“Destroy the fascists!”
“Oh…” said Sian. “Oh, Bacta, no. Um, that’s not what that means.”
Bacta blushed redder than he ever had before. In an attempt to hide his face, he took a sip of tea.
“So,” said Leenik. “What was Bacta like when he was on the Empire’s side?”
“The republic!”
“Whatever.”
“Well,” said Sian, smiling and looking at the rooster patterned tablecloth. “His hair was longer.”
“Oh my ringest God,” said Tryst. “You mean he really used to have hair?”
“Oh yes,” said Sian. “Really long hair.”
“Did it suit him?” asked Tryst. “Because we put a wig on him once and he pulled it the kriff off.”
“Hold on,” said Sian. She pulled out a datapad from one of her pockets. She flipped through it for a second. “He looked like this.”
The holo showed a young clone in cut off jeans and a ripped crop top, hands covered in engine grease. His long brown hair reached down to his waist and he smiled at the camera, leaning on a star fighter.
“You have a picture of me?” said Bacta. “You still have that picture?”
“Of course,” said Sian, as Leenik grabbed the datapad for a closer look. “How could I ever delete it?"