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[major_rawne]

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[deuceoftears]

I know I was a little...weird when we met.

Can I get you an apology drink, or something?

[major_rawne]

[Rawne was a little weird, too, so he's not going to hold it against him.]

Sure. Meet at the lounge?

[deuceoftears]

Sounds good.

[major_rawne]

[Rawne will show up in the lounge a few minutes later and nod a greeting.]

[deuceoftears]

[Jedao walks differently than Shuos Jedao did - smaller, somehow, despite being physically identical. He doesn't hunch, but he holds himself in, has none of Shuos Jedao's swagger or his warm, welcoming physicality. No draping over Rawne's shoulder or squeezing a wrist in passing. This Jedao hops onto his stool almost primly, his smile quieter, less confident, but still hopeful.]

Hey. Hi.

[major_rawne]

[It's still weird, seeing someone who's identical to Shuos Jedao and yet not. He smiles back, though, a little wryly.]

What do you drink, usually?

[deuceoftears]

Usually? Water or tea.

[There's a wry, playful edge to his self-deprecation that does resemble Shuos Jedao for a moment.]

But since I'm theoretically mending bridges, it seems like it should be your choice.

[major_rawne]

[He could be mean about it, but he's not.]

All right. Two sacra it is. The top shelf kind.

[He orders them and waits until their glasses placed before them before he raises his in a toast.]

To mending bridges.

[deuceoftears]

[Jedao raises his in return, although he doesn't clink, of a piece with how much more contained he is than his predecessor. He drinks, neither gulping nor sipping, braced not to react. It's probably wasted on him, whatever it is, but it's about the symbolism of it. Not quite a Kel cup, but - friendly, drinking together. Like humans do.]

Is it okay if I ask you about life here?

[major_rawne]

Sure. What do you want to know?

[He sips his slowly, savoring it. One of the benefits of living on the Barge is getting sacra whenever he wants, instead of having to wait for the bootleggers in the Ghosts to make their next batch.]

[deuceoftears]

[The taste plays about as well with the constant bitter-metal aftertaste his throat finds on everything as anything else does, but he finds he actually likes the smooth rush of heat from the alcohol itself. It's different from the cheaper gin he's shared with James, sleeker somehow.]

How long have you been here? What do you think is the most important part of being a warden?

[major_rawne]

I've been here... four years. Or nearly so. If you count the year on the flotilla. [Which he does.] The most important part is listening to your inmate. Finding out what they need to graduate. It'll be different for everyone.

[deuceoftears]

What did you need?

[major_rawne]

[He takes a long drink to think it over.]

Someone who asked questions about why I was the way I was and listened to the answers. Someone who cared. Who liked me, for some fething reason.

[deuceoftears]

Sounds like they were pretty great.

[major_rawne]

He was. Quentin was. I miss him, sometimes.

[It's because of Quentin that he can say things like that and mean it.]

[deuceoftears]

[He blinks, surprised.]

Oh - I. I met him once, I think. When I was here in the General's place.

White hair, gentle and awkward?

[major_rawne]

Yeah, that's Quentin. [He smiles fondly.] Awkward as hell.

They were in a relationship, for a while. Them and Fives. Who's also gone, now.

[deuceoftears]

[He grimaces.]

I think I'd forgotten that.

[Ew, Jedao One having sex. Much worse, Jedao One having sex with someone Jedao himself has a teeny tiny maybe crush on.]

[major_rawne]

Easy for you. You weren't here for all those dinners.

[He likes all of them, he liked those dinners, but the blatant affection was a little much at times.]

[deuceoftears]

[He makes a weird noise, something that starts as a short and ends in a rueful, involuntary laugh.]

Yeah, okay, fair.

Is it ever...I don't know. Weird? That kind of domesticity next to...oh, someone set the library on fire or killed half a dozen people again? Well, time for soup.

[major_rawne]

Oh, it's fething weird. The way this place deals with murder is fething weird. But having friends and all that... it helps keep me sane. I need people around, like that.

[It took him a while to admit that.]

[deuceoftears]

It's...I didn't have very many friends, before I got here.

[He stares into his drink rather than meet Rawne's eyes as he admits this.]

It's - I'm so grateful but it's awful, too. I must have been here two weeks and my first friend was murdered, just like that. And he's an inmate - he didn't have any way to defend himself.

[major_rawne]

That's lousy.

[He was lucky enough to get here between murder sprees.]

Who's your friend?

[deuceoftears]

Fitz.

But, I mean. It could be anybody, you know? How are the inmates supposed to believe us about anything if they can die any time and we just...keep going?