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“Commander Fox, stay for a moment.” Palpatine’s voice rings out as the meeting is adjourned. The other people walk out still chatting about the gala that will be held in three weeks’ time. The guards were arranging the security and vetting the caterers, while trying to coordinate with rash and outlandish decisions made by the senators.
Once the last people leave the room, Commander Fox stands alone before the Chancellor.
“It’s nothing serious, I promise.” He says with a smile that fools no one. “I’d like to hear your thoughts now that we are alone, I’m sure you have some valuable insight to add.”
“Sir?” asks Fox hesitantly. He’s never been asked directly about anything before. Usually the guard just has to deal with the fallout of other people’s decisions.
“I’ve looked over your… credentials. You’re extensively trained, and from what I’ve read, have an excellent mind as well. I sensed you disagreed to quite a few points during the meeting. I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
For all the Chancellor liked to appear as a kind old man, his spine was made of steel. This was no exception.
“Of course, Chancellor.” Fox agrees, well aware he didn’t have an option to say no.
“I think it will be hard to ensure the security of all the guests if they all insist on bringing their own guard detail. It would increase the amount of people going in and out, and they will not appreciate being searched every time they go inside the building. I think it’d be easier to keep the building secure if we limited the personal guards to two per senator, and supplied the rest form the GAR. The senate guard could do their usual rounds and the GAR could provide extra security.”
The chancellor thinks for a moment before replying. “An interesting point, though I don’t believe the senators would appreciate the restrictions.”
“I wouldn’t expect them to, sir.” Fox knows this as well, which was shy he held his tongue in the meeting.
“So how do you propose we break it to them?” The chancellor really was in a strange mood today.
“We?”
“Yes, of course. I can’t expect you to shoulder all their ire.”
“If someone could make it clear that bringing more personal guards were a show of distrust, it would set them apart to bring more than they’re allowed to. They wouldn’t want that kind of attention on them, and they can’t complain unless they want to argue that the GAR is untrustworthy.” Fox leaves the rest unsaid. The GAR works directly under Palpatine, and any decision that comes from the Chancellor himself can’t be rephrased as the guard’s opinion.
And it’s not like they’d take over all the security of the event. The senate guard and their own would be working with them.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Palpatine says evasively. “You’re dismissed, Commander.”
Fox can’t get out of the room fast enough.
-
“What do you make of this, Commander?” asks Palpatine, holding a datapad. He shifts so Fox could only see it if he moved in close. Fox was not naïve though. He knows he does it on purpose.
Nevertheless he steps in at a polite distance. This close he can smell a bit of the expensive cologne he knows he imports from Alderaan. It’s only produced in small batches and sold at exorbitant prices.
“The dessert menu?” he wants some clarification if he’s going to spew his opinions to the Chancellor.
“For the event, yes. I’m a bit torn between keeping it as is, or adding some of the new trendy stuff. You’ve heard of Sha’ak rolls, right? I hear they’re all the rage with the young people.”
Fox hesitates for a moment before giving an answer. “Most traditional senators would probably have strong opinions on following food trends. Tradition to keep the galaxy rooted and all that. It could also go the other way, since Coruscant is well known for its fast changing culture. It would not be out of place, per say, but it would catch most by surprise.”
“A non-answer if I ever heard one.” Palpatine sounds pleased. “I’ll make a politician out of you yet.”
“I sure hope that’s not what they had in mind when they made head of security, Chancellor.” Fox says drily.
“Of course not.” He says with a chuckle that could have been seen as warm and humorous if they hadn’t met him before.
“In my opinion though,” Fox starts, not wanting to be seen as a manipulative twofaced politician, “there’s no such thing as too much dessert. Just have both and serve it buffet style. It’ll give them something to talk about.”
“True, true,” the Chancellor agrees, then turns his attention from the datapad, looking at Fox like he sees right through the helmet. “And which do you prefer?”
“I don’t have a preference, sir. Sweets are not included in guard rations.”
Fox feels a sudden chill down his back and immediately regrets opening his mouth. It was stupid, he thinks. Veiled criticism was no less real just because he said in a nice way. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to say that, it just happened.
Would he get reprimanded for this? What would happen to his brothers if he was decommissioned? Who would take over his job?
The Chancellor looks thoughtful, but doesn’t reprimand him for his slip of tongue. Fox guesses he’ll live another day.
-
“What’s this?” Fox’s voice rings out in the guard barracks. A brown package sits on the reception desk. It’s medium size, though there is no parcel id on it.
“It’s addressed to you, sir.” The shiny says. “No return address.”
“Have you checked it for tampering?” he asks suspiciously. No one drops off packages to the GAR unless they’ve sent specific orders, and those mostly came through military channels.
“It’s full of sweets, sir. There’s also a letter for you.”
With all eyes on him Fox picks up the paper and silently reads over the short message.
Commander Fox,
You mentioned you haven’t had the chance to try sweets. Let me know which ones you like best.
There was no signature or clue of who had sent it but Fox knew immediately. Fucking Palpatine.
He let out an angry sound in between a sigh and a wheeze and crumpled the paper in his fist. With deliberate care he crafts it into a little ball and promptly throws it into the trash.
With a deep sigh he ignores the box and moves to his office, shutting the door with a slam. His brothers can have the sweets for all he cares.
He didn’t ask for this.
-
Four days later he is summoned to the Chancellor’s office.
There has been real incidents since the last time they met, so Fox really has no idea what to expect. A creeping suspicion makes him consider that it might even be a social call.
The thought terrifies him.
He knocks on the door at precisely 11.30, when the meeting was set for.
“Come in, come in.” the Chancellor’s voice rings out almost immediately.
Fox squares his shoulders, pushes down his anxiety, and walks through the door.
The Chancellor is sitting behind his desk as usual, and the way his eyes follow Fox makes him uncomfortable.
“Chancellor.” He says in greeting, hoping to keep things work related. “You summoned me.”
“Hello, Commander Fox,” he says with a happy grin. “Right on time.”
Fox can’t imagine what kind of schemes are going on in his head at the moment, and honestly doesn’t really care to know either. He just wants to do his job and not have to deal with whatever strangeness is happening.
“I was hoping to go over a few complaints from the Senators. After rearranging the guard detail a few of them have voiced some rather harsh… opinions on the guard.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Fox says drily.
“Indeed.” The Chancellor agrees. “Nevertheless they need to be addressed. I’d feel better if I could get your opinion, and you’d get a head start in case they try to trouble you and go behind my back. They can be quite troublesome at times.”
While Fox doesn’t give a flying fuck about Palpatine’s feelings, he does want to be informed of any potential threats. If things go wrong at the gala his vode will suffer the consequences. It’s his responsibility to keep them safe.
“Let’s get started then.” He agrees.
“Right, let’s start with Senator Kellond. He wants to have a minimum of ten guards in case of assassinations. A fair assessment, I believe, he’s very annoying…”
The meeting gets interrupted after about fifteen minutes.
Without warning, the door opens, letting through a skinny natborn bearing the senate crest on his uniform. He wheels in a food cart. The metal domes cover the plates, but the smell immediately fills the office. He bows to the Chancellor, who waves him off immediately, and quickly exits the room without a word.
“I hope you have not eaten yet, Commander. I took the liberty of ordering an extra portion. Is seafood alright with you?”
Fox’s mouth went dry, but he stammered out a “yes” anyway. What was even happening anymore? At this point he decides to just roll with it.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” He protests politely, still hoping he might escape from the weird situation.
“Nonsense.” The Chancellor exclaims. “I wouldn’t want to make you work through your lunch break. And we still have quite a few complaints to go through. Now I don’t know about you but I’d rather do it on a full stomach.”
Fox doesn’t reply at all, but the Chancellor doesn’t seem to mind. He gestures for Fox to sit down at a table for two, conveniently placed next to the window.
He places down the covered plates and on the table, and sits down. He looks entirely too happy, and Fox can’t wait to quell any satisfaction the old man gets from making him uncomfortable.
The food smells amazing though, and Fox is not above wanting to eat real food for the first time. The food in the mess hall and dry ration bars have worked so far, but they’re not appetizing. He can only imagine what the food on these plates will taste like, but if the smell is anything to go by he’s in for a treat.
He needs to remove his helmet to eat, but he is on duty and he’s not allowed to remove his helmet for any reason.
Maybe this is all a test and he’s set up to fail. They’d do that on Kamino sometimes. Give them tests without telling them. Setting them up to fail. The mission was usually to identify what the real test was, or to get creative.
Right now he wasn’t sure what would be the best action. He hasn’t frozen like this since he was a cadet.
“I don’t know how you plan to eat with the helmet on, Commander, but I’d wager it’s easier to take it off. I promise I won’t tell on you.”
He doesn’t know who the Chancellor would tell exactly, since he is his direct superior. He expects this is the Chancellor’s particular sense of humour.
With a sigh he removes his helmet and for the first time meet’s the Chancellor’s eyes face to face. His eyes linger on his face for a moment, but quickly turns to the food in front of them.
It’s some sort of noodles, (pasta, he’s told later), in a rich creamy sauce. The hot grilled scampi on top are Fox’s new favourite thing, and he doesn’t believe he’ll be able to stomach army rations ever again.
The next favourite item he’s introduced to would be the garlic bread that came in a little weaved basket.
At least the food’s good, even if the company is questionable.
-
Fox feels a bit weird after the past week and a half.
He’s received no less than three meals in Palpatine’s office, and the man hasn’t even asked Fox for one single thing in return. It’s suspicious. It’s weird. It’s blatant bribery and manipulation, and Fox knows the Chancellor knows that he knows as well. They do not address it.
He feels like a bit like when his brothers bully him into sleeping and eating, except that this is the Chancellor of the fucking Republic and he can’t say no.
If it were any other senator he’d report the bribery to the Chancellor, but it’s kind of a dud when it’s the Chancellor himself doing the bribing.
Fox is keeping an objective eye on the whole situation though. There’s even a sparse documentation in his private journals, noting any suspicious behaviour (of which there is a lot). It’s keyed to the other commanders in the event of his death, which he feels is more likely by the day. Also if he’s dead he won’t have to explain anything, so that’s a plus.
For what reason would the Chancellor try to suck up to him like this? It doesn’t make sense.
He also is not completely against it, even if the man himself repulses Fox in the most basic ways.
Fox has thought about it more than he’d like to admit.
Being in charge is a huge commitment. While his vode can lean on him and let him take the lead, the responsibility, the consequences; he has no one to lean on. He’ rather die than lean on the Chancellor, of course, but he feels increasingly accepting of the selfish desire to spoil himself.
If the old man wants to give him things he’s going to take all he can. No mercy.
-
“While I can admit that surprising you is a delight in itself, you are free to ask as well. If it’s reasonable I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
This is the first time Palpatine has acknowledged that he’s giving Fox things, and he doesn’t know how to respond. He will do so anyway.
“There’s a lot of things I could think of.” Fox says vaguely. Better rations, more men, less work, actual food for his brothers. Freedom.
But he knows better than to ask for those things. If Palpatine hasn’t made an effort to make their lives easier by now, he won’t. His interest lies solely with Fox.
Palpatine doesn’t respond, but his face reflects how attentive he is in the moment. Fox hasn’t been allowed to wear his helmet in private since the first meal they shared, and he doesn’t like how easily he can read him.
“Bleach and red dye.” He says after a moment’s deliberation. “I want to change my hair.”
It’s against every regulation he’s been conditioned to follow.
It’s defiance.
He wants to see how far he can push Palpatine before he tells him no.
“That’s doable.” Palpatine agrees. “Pick a dye you like and I’ll order it.”
Fox already knows what he’s looking for. He’s been loitering near the garbage outside of the stores in hope that they’d throw out the shade he wants. That’s how most troopers get a chance at individuality, save from painting their armour, which only commanders in the guard are allowed to. Protection by anonymity and to keep the shinies safe from the natborns. Commanders have no such luxury, but instead customize their armour to stand out, ready to take the fall if they need to.
Instead of dumpster diving, he simply pulls up a tab on his datapad, and with a few deliberate taps, he’s ready to show his findings.
He holds it out so Palpatine can see.
“This one, or as near as possible. I want it copper but dark.” Like a Fox, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to.
He has never been so excited in his life. He knows Palpatine can see it clearly on his bare face, but he finds he doesn’t even care.
The thrill is indescribable.
-
When the dye arrives three days later, he asks Thire to help him with his hair. He doesn’t trust himself not to fuck up the bleaching, and he doesn’t want to damage his curls more than he has to. The bleach is only supposed to be in the hair for a certain amount of time and all that.
“Where did you even get this, Fox?” he asks. The disturbed look on his face seems out of place, somehow.
Fox can’t find it within himself to care about the strangeness.
“Who cares, Thire? I have it now.”
A reprimand is bit back, Fox can see it. He quickly explains, “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you think. It’s a gift.”
“From who?”
“Can’t say.” He really can’t. Whatever he and Palpatine have going on, it’s secret. He can’t imagine what kind of punishment would come from revealing his benefactor.
“Can’t or won’t.” Thire looks so suspicious, so Fox doesn’t answer. Thire continues with a resigned sigh. “Alright then, but I sure hope they’re pretty.”
For a moment he doesn’t make the connection.
Then he starts laughing. “It’s nothing like that.” He assures him. “I promise.”
“Sure.” He says flatly, but doesn’t prod any more.
Instead he spends an hour and a half, in the middle of the night, on making the highlights just right. The fumes sting their eyes, and they spend a lot of time talking during the process. Fox feels good, for once. Lighter. When was the last time he spent this much time talking to his vod without it being work related?
He doesn’t remember.
-
“You should address me by my first name.” Palpatine says, and Fox feels like his worlds is collapsing around him. Why is this his life?
“With all due respect, sir,” he enunciates the words extra carefully, both to make himself calm down and to make his point clear. “That would be highly inappropriate.”
It’s the first time he’s said no to the Chancellor. Cold sweat creeps up his back as he realises what he’s done. Before he had only hinted at displeasure, and Palpatine had taken it in stride and then made space for Fox’s wants and needs. This was completely different.
This was open defiance.
“Don’t we know each other well enough to be familiar?” asks Palpatine sadly. Tries to make Fox feel guilty of all things.
Fox only feels guilty for things he himself has caused. This entire situation is completely orchestrated by Palpatine, and Fox no false illusions of complicity.
He doesn’t have time for this.
“You tell me, sir.” He says tautly, giving the man a flat look.
“I thought we knew each other well enough to be honest, Commander Fox.”
The return of his title is jarring. Fox didn’t realise it had been absent for so long. What else has he missed?
There is fire behind the Chancellor’s eyes, and for a moment Fox thinks they shift colour. Must be his imagination, caused by the sudden stress. A warning at the very least. The Chancellor is the most powerful man in the galaxy and Fox can only imagine the things he could do to his brothers with no repercussions if Fox decided to anger him further.
Fox doesn’t know what to make of this. He knows he has to fix it quickly though.
On one hand it makes his skin crawl. On the other hand it makes him think that maybe it’s time to give something back. The Chancellor hasn’t yet asked for anything else in return, and Fox doesn’t think he will. He’s much too satisfied with making Fox go along with it out of free will.
It’s such a trivial thing too. It’s not like anyone would know. It would be stupid to choose this hill to die on when there were so many others.
After a split second he complies, even though it makes his skin crawl. “Very well, Sheev.”
-
Things don’t change much.
Sheev regularly invites Fox to his office for a chat, and it’s never too weird. Fox has a suspicion that the old man is a bit lonely for all his scheming and bickering he does all day. He doesn’t know why he had caught his interest, but it’s all very… companionable.
They talk about trivial things.
Fox doesn’t know much about the process of winemaking, but he listens well, and is rewarded with a wine tasting during the time. He doesn’t really taste much difference between the five reds he’s been smelling and sipping, but he point out the one he likes best. And if he’s allowed to grab a few bottles of that particular vintage there’s no protests.
Sheev asks about his opinions on music, which Fox also doesn’t have too much of an opinion of. He has heard the classical music when standing guard at the frequent banquets. There’s music playing in the background of the reception area in the senate building. His favourite must be the radio channel he has on in his office, but it’s mostly just background noise for him.
Somehow this seems lacking in a way. Fox doesn’t want to be too little, has always strived to be the best. He tries to make his points more educated. Less introverted.
He doesn’t really want to seek approval from Sheev of all people, that would be gross, but he also does like to feel special. For some reason the idea that he’d lose interest brings up fear in his chest. Uncertainty.
Absolutely disgusting, and he’s well aware of it. Doesn’t make it less real though.
In the end he’s thrown an olive branch, when Sheev asks him about his vode.
They are the easiest to talk about. Fox never reveals anything too private, never mentions names along with the stories, and never says when things happened or who were there.
Sheev never asks. He allows him this tiny bit pf privacy and Fox can’t help but feel grateful.
-
Recently Sheev has taken to giving him gift cards. They are, of course, not refundable in store (Fox has checked).
That doesn’t take away from his ability to choose and pick any jewellery he likes. Turns out the gift card was full to the brim, and there’s no shortage of options. In the end he pierces his ears and gets pure gold earrings. Not too clunky and not too small, just a pure solid sheen dangling from his ears.
His brothers ask him about it but he doesn’t want to reveal who exactly gave him those. It would be kind of embarrassing to say that the slimy Chancellor gives him things with no strings attached. It would also start an investigation or two and Fox really wants to milk the taxpayers for all he can.
There’s a lot of more things he considers buying but he settles for a pricey wristwatch. If the magazines are trustworthy it’s a new design from one of Coruscant’s top designers, which makes it both noteworthy and ostentatious.
Fox kind of likes having them on, even if no one sees under his armour while he’s on duty, which is almost always. He likes the weight of the jewellery. He likes to look at his watch. He likes his reflection and the soft glimmer in his ears, half hidden behind red tinted curls.
-
One of Sheev’s good qualities is how perceptive he is. While Fox doesn’t want to acknowledge that he has any good points at all, he does hate him and everything he stands for, he can also see the reason behind a good many things he says.
Last week Fox pulled a muscle during a practice run with the new shinies. Since then he’s been straining his other muscles to compensate for it and now his whole neck hurts instead.
It sucks.
Fox doesn’t know when exactly he relaxed enough to show discomfort while on duty, nor does he know when Sheev decided to pick up on it.
Sheev suggests a spa visit.
Fox will have to go alone of course, the Chancellor can’t let his guards have massages at the same time, that’d be weird. But he books the appointment for Fox and more or less tells him to show up or else.
So he does.
It’s a clean and warm facility. The staff must have been warned about his arrival because he doesn’t hear even one deprecating comment about him being a clone during his entire visit.
He tries to stay on guard at all times, but it’s kind of hard when he’s submerged in an actual bathtub, being pampered at every turn.
His favourite part is the massage, although he hesitates to allow anyone’s hands on him at first.
Any complaints he could think of slip from his mind at the very minute the masseur digs the palms of his hands into Fox’s back and eases all the tension in his entire back, legs, arms, and feet.
Fox leaves the spa feeling like a whole new man.
-
Fox has been as careful as he can so far. He doesn’t ask for anything too expensive, he doesn’t push any more limits, and he definitely doesn’t ask why this is happening at all.
Sheev is more than happy to just give him things, provided he talks to him, listens to him, and volunteers when the conversation lulls.
It’s a fair exchange as far as Fox is concerned.
He’s also in the business of scamming as much as possible from Sheev’s wrinkled nasty politician hands. There is no moral to why he does what he does, but he preens under the attention, regardless of the fact that it’s the Chancellor of the Republic who’s enabling this behaviour.
He doesn’t mind at all.
Growing up as a clone it’s hard to find individuality, and so far it’s been a rush to get as many personalized items as possible.
Fox now has a brand new coffee machine installed in the barracks, which he gladly shares with his vode.
He also has very stylish designer brand civilian clothes. It’s very different from what he and his vode usually scavenge from the lost and found boxes. He’s told them it’s hands off but he doesn’t say much when he sees Thire wearing his jacket, or when Thorn wears the tinted sunglasses indoors to get away with sleeping on the job. Eventually he just tells them to give the items back when he himself wants to use them.
They’re all brothers after all. They know how to share.
Most often he doesn’t give his brothers a straight answer when they ask who exactly is giving him these things, but Fox assures them that it’s taxpayer money and that he’s not in danger. It’s not really a lie, but it’s not the entire truth either. They’re all in danger every day, and Fox doesn’t want to worry them. He just hopes the status quo will hold.
All in all Fox is living his best life.
-
Fox has a bad day. Terrorist have increased their attacks on the senate and it takes up most of his energy. Not only are the threats piling up, there is also the general protests to deal with. The war is not popular and the clones even less so.
The commanders work tirelessly to ensure the privileged slimy senators are safe and sound to pass more bills that make things worse for everybody.
In fact, he’s so busy he almost misses the card left on his desk. The pile of datapads hide it partially.
It’s a credit card.
A platinum credit card, with a considerable limit on it. The note just tells him the max amount and to ´use it at your discretion´.
If he maxed out this card he’d be able to pay for the upkeep of so many troopers, it’s basically half the entire guard’s quarterly budget, and he gets to use it for pleasure.
He really doesn’t like that he can’t publicly share it with his vode.
Instead he does what he can.
He buys clothes at one location, says he’s lost the receipt, and returns it at another location owned by the same brand. He finds he can rotate between the stores and not seem too suspicious, he knows how to pace himself. Besides, the natborns can’t really keep track of which clone he is.
Other times he buys what his vode needs and forces the store owner to ring it up as something else. Like petrol for his brand new speeder, or expensive food he has no interest in eating. If he uses his position as marshal commander in order to blackmail the store owner into compliance, no one’s the wiser.
Plus he’s smart about it. He’d never get caught making any rookie mistakes.
Money laundering is a thrifty kind of business you can only pull off in a faux fur coat, sunglasses, and very stylish boots.
-
One of the few luxuries Fox can’t get enough of is scented candles. The spa got him hooked and then it was too late. He’s got the money, means, and motive.
It’s not like he bulk orders his favourite scents or something, but he likes to keep a candle burning while he works. It’s both relaxing and pleasant, and the late nights don’t seem as bad when he can distract himself just enough to find some enjoyment.
Thorn likes to steal them as well, so Fox just orders a few extra. It’s not like candles should be on the watch list or something.
His favourite ones are the ones named after forests and such. Fox has never been to a forest but if that’s what they smell like he’d like to go someday.
It’s something too daydream about at least.
-
Sheev has never insisted on going somewhere public with him before, but Fox guesses there’s a first time for everything.
Apparently there’s a new restaurant opening and Sheev doesn’t want to go alone. Not that he uses those words at all, but the meaning is clear enough.
“Besides, I’m sure you can find something presentable in that wardrobe of yours.” Sheev comments, acknowledging that he’s keeping track of Fox’s expenses.
“Might have something.” He says evasively. “What kind of place is it anyway? Fancy or casual?”
“Oh, it’s very casual, I assure you. Just pick something you’re comfortable in.”
In the end Fox decides to tempt fate, and picks a daring outfit. Maybe if he embarrasses Sheev enough he won’t have to be seen in public with him again.
He knows he packs a fat set of tits under his armour, and he’s not afraid to make an impact. He found the shirt in a designer store, horribly overpriced for how little it covered, and matched it with form fitting pants, new knee height boots, and a light jacket. The boob window might have been a little too much, but he doesn’t really care.
What can Sheev do about it, send him home? He hopes he does. He doesn’t really care, and Quinlan said he looked great in his outfit. There’s no denying he loves to be just the right amount of annoying.
He really doesn’t expect the Chancellor to get a heart attack when he sees him outside the restaurant.
Oops.
-
When Sheev’s death is investigated, Fox finds out that there is an ongoing case on money laundering and tax evasion linked to the Chancellor’s office. It must be a coincidence that the paper trail is the very same one Fox has been taking care of as his additional administrative duties, as Sheev liked to call them.
Terrible news, considering the public image he’s been so careful with for many years.
Absolutely terrible.
The news have a field day trying to throw as much dirt on him as possible, and Fox leaks as much as he can of the Chancellor’s shady business meetings and blackmailing.
In the following days they also find some traces of threats against the Chancellor. The terrorists have been threatening him personally for about the same time he’s had an interest in spoiling Fox.
Apparently he must have felt really threatened if his go to plan was to make Fox like him. Laughable, really. Fox would have sold him out for anything if he had been asked. It seems too good to be a coincidence, and Thorn, Stone and Thire think so as well when Fox spills who exactly his benefactor has been.
It’s a bit of a riot, and they question him extensively on what kind of favours he’s been trading, but Fox assures them it’s not anything like that. Ew. He just doesn’t see the problem with getting spoiled for making regular conversation, even if his vode look at him weird for a few days.
Whatever.
He’s got his revenge, no matter how petty, and he even killed the Chancellor on top of it. All in all it’s a great time spent, in Fox’s opinion.
After Cody gets word of it Fox suddenly has General Kenobi coming to his office trying to explain what, exactly, a sugar daddy is.
Fox really didn’t want to know there’s a word for it.