Chapter Text
You take your hair down again, for the eighth time it seems, letting out a frustrated huff that it seems to be defying your every wish. Glancing at the clock, you feel the anxiety begin to rise, and you make one last attempt at twisting your hair into a half-decent updo. Standing in front of the mirror, you smooth the front of your clothes, studying yourself top to bottom with a critical eye. Why did you agree to this, again? Well, you didn't, you suppose, but you did make the bet, which you lost, and here you are. You cringe as you remember your friend's laughter as he reassured you, "Don't worry -- he's not like the other clones."
Whatever that meant. Either way, it had been ages since you'd been out with anyone, choosing instead to enjoy your quiet life of career, nature, and home. Yet, to spice things up one week, in an impulsive moment of bad judgment, you had taken your friend up on his bet and had wagered a blind date. Deciding this was as good as it's gonna get, you grab your bag and head for the door.
It's a warm, breezy evening, and the enticing smells of a wide variety of dinners being prepared makes your mouth water as you walk through the winding paths of the village. Built on a mountainous island, everything is condensed and vertical, with a seemingly endless maze of walkways and alleys. Your friend made the reservations for the two of you and told you to look for a "guy with eyebrows". You can't possibly fathom this going well, and you realize as you make your way to the restaurant that you're working yourself into a fuss. You reach the doorway and, taking a deep breath, decide to try to let it all go and just see what the night holds. "Try" being the key word.
You enter the restaurant, a rectangular building set on the side the mountain with a bar in the middle, tables scattered throughout, and a balcony along the edge that provided a handful of tables with spectacular views of the houses below, all the way to the water that stretched out into the horizon. You pause in the entryway, scanning the tables for anyone seated alone, and start to feel concerned as you see none. A sudden burst of laughter erupts from the bar, catching your attention.
A man with dark hair, cropped short on the sides but longer and swept back on the top, claps two Pantorans on the back, enjoying a few last chuckles with them, before turning to look around the room. Well son of a Hutt... there's the eyebrows, arched in curiosity. He's a clone, alright, but has an odd way about him. His movements are slightly erratic, and he seemed to be the life of the party a second ago but is now shifting awkwardly on his feet. It's got to be him. You take a deep breath again, and make your way toward him.
"Are you... Gregor?" you ask, once within hearing range, and he whirls to face you so quickly that you're almost startled.
"Depends who's asking!" he says, and a little giggle escapes that seems wildly out of character... well, for any other clone you've met thus far. "But I sure hope you're the one I'm supposed to meet here!" You can't detect any hint of sarcasm or flattery in his voice; it just sounds like a genuine statement. You've been rehearsing a million different scenarios leading up to tonight, anticipating all types of characters, but this one's got you baffled so far.
"Well, if you're Gregor, you're stuck with me!" you say, trying to sound playful but immediately wanting to cringe.
"Lovely!" he claps his hands together, inviting you to the table on the corner of the balcony; it's still relatively early for dinner, so the place isn't too busy, and the tables nearby are empty. But as you get closer to the table, you notice a small bouquet of flowers on one of the place settings, tied neatly with... a napkin?
"Ah, yeah..." Gregor says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I have no idea how all of this is supposed to go, but I saw those on the way here and picked them for you... off people's porches!" He giggles again, and you find yourself relaxing a bit, put at ease by his unapologetic glee. "But I didn't have anything to tie them with, so... I'll cover for you if you want to steal the napkin," he winks.
"That's really sweet," you say with a smile, and he beams back at you, plopping into his seat and scrambling back to his feet just as quickly with a little muttered "oops", instead coming to stand behind your chair, beckoning you to sit and carefully pushing the seat in behind you as you do. Now you're uncomfortable again, feeling suddenly as though you have no idea how to act in these situations after all.
The waiter comes, dressed to the nines, holding a bottle in his hand with a white towel draped over his arm. He holds it out to the two of you, eyes moving slowly from you to Gregor, lips pursed in the snootiest expression you've seen in a while.
"Oh! Yes please!" Gregor says enthusiastically, pushing the two crystal glasses on the table toward the waiter, whose brow drops at such a plebeian reaction. He removes the cork with a flourish (and a little "ooh!" from Gregor), then pours a tiny bit into your glass, straightening up expectantly.
"Aww, no need to be shy!" Gregor chimes in, taking the bottle from him and filling both of your glasses to the absolute brim. "We're good for it!" He grins and gives the waiter a thumbs-up, but the only response he receives is a stifled look of horror as the server slowly hands him a menu. Gregor plunks the bottle down onto the table, taking the menu and opening it excitedly.
You do the same, stifling a chuckle of your own, and try to focus on the food options, but you're distracted by the steady stream of muttering coming from behind your date's menu. Peering over the edge, you see Gregor not only reading the options aloud, but providing quiet commentary on each of them... to himself. You almost want to be critical of it, but it's so endearing that you instead discover a warm and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest.
Snapping his menu shut, Gregor returns his attention to you, catching you by surprise. He smiles, tilting his head and regarding you warmly, "So... eh... tell me about yourself?" he invites sheepishly, saying it more as if he's asking if it's the right thing to say rather than actually asking you.
You find a smile on your own face as you launch into what you hope is a very exciting and thrilling account of your career, interests, and story so far, realizing perhaps a bit too late that you've been going on for a while. You drop off rather quickly, stammering an apology, and his face changes from attentive listening to puzzled confusion.
"Why'd you stop?" he asks, with genuine curiosity.
"I... eh... I was kinda going on and on," you admit.
"Well I loved it all!" Gregor replies, and you are surprised to see that he means it. He opens his mouth to continue when the waiter returns, a distasteful look on his face as though he's just swallowed a Bantha hair when he sees that Gregor has repurposed the bottle into a vase for the small bouquet he brought for you.
"And what will you be having this evening?" the server inquires, turning to you first, and you panic, realizing you hadn't actually finished reading the menu. Surprisingly perceptive, Gregor chimes in, "We'll take two of this, please!" He points to the menu and gives the waiter a cheerful nod, followed by a little wave as the stern little man strolls off toward the kitchen. "I hope I wasn't out of line there," he says to you, eyebrows curving up in an impossibly concerned expression.
It all happened so fast, you're not quite sure what to say, but his authentic consternation is so charming that you can't find anything but reassurance, "No! I'm not normally one for surprises, but I guess we'll see if you have good taste!" You've impressed yourself with your witty response, and you smile with a bit more confidence now.
"Excellent, excellent..." Gregor muses, raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin a tiny bit, "I hope you like womp rat stew!"
"What?" you say in shock, unable to fathom that they'd serve something like that here... or, well, anywhere... but your dismay is short-lived as Gregor bursts out into another giggle. You're unable to suppress a grin, and you give him a look of mock sternness.
"Oh, excuse me," he says in response, putting his hands up in surrender, "I'm forgetting my manners." He returns his hands to the table, looking up at you from those expressive eyebrows, and invites you to continue your story from where you left off.
The food comes, empty plates go, and the two of you find yourself lost in conversation. He listens eagerly to your stories, asking questions and seeming to delight in every last detail. You finish your glasses, feeling warm and rummy with bellies full of food and brains sparkling with the slight influence of drink. The conversation turns to him, finally, and you are highly curious to hear what has brought him to this point.
"Ahh, that's quite a story," he says, shaking his head, "but I believe our time here is up!" He stands, beckoning you to join him, and you feel anxious immediately. Did you talk too much about yourself? Was he calling it, just like that? You thought you'd been having a great time, laughing and chatting, so this was an abrupt surprise.
Speechless, you follow him to the doorway of the restaurant, and he offers you an arm, which you take, feeling slightly reassured at the gentlemanly gesture. Without asking, he begins walking, guiding the two of you along a myriad of paths toward the water, talking about a few local birds that he apparently found hilarious. It takes you far too long to realize that he's not walking you home, and you kick yourself for getting all paranoid for nothing.
"So," Gregor says, strolling with ease next to you, "I was a Clone Commando for the Republic..." and he proceeds to tell a nearly-unbelievable account of war, defeat, death-defying survival, amnesia, remembrance, and explosions. You feel shocked that he let you talk for so long when he's got a story like this, and you share as much, earning another one of those little chuckles that you're coming to enjoy quite a lot.
"Well, that's what got me here, but it's definitely not who I am now," he says, still smiling but voice taking on a somber tone. "I mean, my voice wasn't the only thing changed in the explosion; I took a pretty hard hit to the head, you know. So sometimes I get a bit... forgetful." His bouncy composure has softened a bit, revealing perhaps a bit of shame?
You turn your head to look at him more fully, temporarily stopping the leisurely stroll, and discover an expression on his face that moves you to the core. His animated eyebrows have settled low across his brown eyes, which are downcast to the ground in front of you, and his lips are together in a firm line. You feel compelled to speak, though wildly unprepared.
"Well... Who are you now?" you ask, almost cringing again as it comes out. It sounded better in your head, and you begin to try to come up with something better, but he looks at you with a gaze that takes the words right out of your mouth.
"I... I don't really know," he says, with a chuckle that seems more reflexive than intentional. "I guess I'm kind of starting over, in a way." He is suddenly pensive, eyebrows working overtime with all the thoughts rushing through his mind, and you feel another warm rush in your chest at his unguarded truthfulness.
"For what it's worth," you say, feeling emboldened, "I think you're delightful." You hope it's encouraging, because you struggle to wrap your mind around what his existence must be like, but it's also honest, you realize -- you've completely let your guard down and have been thoroughly enjoying your time together.
He smiles, dropping his eyes with a bashfulness that makes you want to squeeze him, and squeezes your hand against his side with the arm you've been holding onto. "I might say the same about you!" he answers, a bit of his playful spark returning, and the two of you continue down the last cobblestoned staircase to the water.
The sun has set and the sky is glowing with a tranquil twilight. Pink and blue hues cast everything in a dreamy glow, and Gregor leads you to a large piece of driftwood, sitting in the middle of it and patting you a seat next to him. You join him, leaving a good few inches between you, and enjoy the warm sea breeze in silence for a moment.
He shifts awkwardly, moving his hands from his lap to the log behind him, then back to his knees, then folding them together. He finally sits up, turning to you, and holds your gaze as he slowly folds one arm in toward himself like some kind of weird praying mantis before extending it out behind you. "Eh?" he says, hovering his arm over your back, one eyebrow arched and a closed-mouth grin on his face.
You smile, scooting closer to him and nestling up against his side, and he takes that as a yes, wrapping his arm around your shoulders with the most endearing little "ha!" you've yet heard. He runs his other hand through his hair, gazing off into the distance as though he's conquered the world. He continues to surprise you with his quiet contemplation, content to simply enjoy the beauty without any need for words and also without it feeling awkward in the slightest.
The cold fog starts to roll in, so he walks you home with your hand snugly tucked into the crook of his arm. The chatter is lighthearted, playful, calm... You feel more relaxed and delighted than you have in as long as you can remember. As you approach your door, a bright blue that contrasts the white arched stucco all around, he gently unfolds his arm and takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to place the most tender kiss on the back of it.
"I... ah... I hope we can do this again," he admits, eyes large and eager. "And again, and again..." he laughs.
"I would love that."