Rovnak had just pulled the linen tunic over his head when the flap of the tent lifted.

"You never lock your door," Vallyn said, stepping in unannounced. She paused—then gave a low, teasing whistle. "My, my. I haven't seen that in a long time."

He looked over his shoulder, shirt still half-folded in one hand. "Tanah." The old name, soft as worn leather. "I thought I'd earned the right not to be ogled in my own tent."

She smirked, but her eyes didn't drift immediately. Not out of indecency. Just... curiosity. Memory. "Looks like you've managed to avoid decay. That's annoying."

"Genetics," Rovnak muttered, pulling the shirt on properly. "And field rations. Keeps the fat scared off."

Vallyn stepped closer, half-circling him like a cat in amused inspection. "Still got that stubborn spine. That wasn't genetics. That was all those years saying no to things I said yes to."

He looked at her sidelong. "You shouldn't provoke Solari like you do."

"Oh?" she arched an eyebrow. "And which part provoked him? Naming the bigotry, or not bowing afterward?"

Rovnak chuckled, low in his throat. "You always knew how to make the right enemies."

"And you always knew how to almost love the right people."

That gave him pause.

They let the silence stretch just enough to make it bittersweet. Then, like sunlight through storm clouds, Vallyn grinned. "Well. I guess you'd better always be around, then."

"That the closest I'm getting to a declaration?"

"Don't push your luck, General."

Laughter came easily after that. They settled into old rhythms—jokes about misfired meditations and that one time Rovnak accidentally gave a swamp eel heatstroke mid-ritual. The years folded neatly in on themselves, like robes packed in a satchel for one more campaign.

Then came a soft voice from just beyond the tent flap.

"Knight Karin Aliyah Atrecone requesting permission to enter."

Vallyn raised both eyebrows and leaned close to Rovnak with mock mischief. "Should I let her think she's interrupting something? Might be good for your legend."

"Be kind," Rovnak said, shaking his head. "She's one of the sensible ones."

"All the more reason." Vallyn turned toward the flap. "Come on in, Knight Atrecone. But if you're here to scold us about protocol, I'm afraid the shirt's already back on."

Rovnak and Vallyn exchanged a look. She was still half-perched on a crate near the desk, arms resting loose across her knees, smile not quite innocent.

Karin stepped in carefully, taking in the scene: Vallyn lounging, Rovnak still barefoot and only just rebuttoning his collar. Her posture stiffened reflexively.

"My apologies. I wasn't sure if I was... interrupting something."

"Only Vallyn's running commentary on my physique," Rovnak offered without missing a beat.

"You say that like it's unjustified."

Karin blinked once, sharply—clearly not prepared to navigate banter this informal. But she composed herself with practiced grace.

"There's a field report from the transport authority on Aldra Station. It involves a missing YT-1760 freighter. Local logs confirm it was claimed by Padawan Kiani and... Quinn, Master Rovnak."

Vallyn gave a snort. "Claimed. That's a generous translation."

Rovnak took the datapad Karin offered, scanning it quickly. A subtle smile tugged at his mouth.

"Well. At least my Padawan has style."
He tapped the manifest. "Hijacked an antique YT-1760? That's pure bravado."

"And no visible weapons retrofits either," Karin added, easing a touch as the mood softened. "Just a personality upgrade to the nav droid."

Vallyn leaned back against the tent pole, eyes glinting. "You know how to pick them. Remember when we took that joyride in the Millennium Falcon?"

Rovnak groaned, laughing despite himself. "We were supposed to be escorting a diplomat."

"We did."

"After rerouting through three smuggler ports and getting scanned by a Hutt's customs proxy."

"Diplomacy is subjective," Vallyn declared airily.

Karin couldn't quite hide the faint smile curving at the corners of her mouth. "If this is how Jedi high command behaves after hours... I may need to file a second report."

"Only if you spell my name correctly this time," Rovnak muttered, handing the datapad back.

Karin nodded, more gently now. "For what it's worth... I believe you're doing the right thing. Both of you."

That softened something behind Vallyn's eyes. Gratitude, maybe. Or the quiet hope that at least some of the next generation was listening.

"Thank you, Knight Atrecone," Vallyn said.

"And thank you for not commenting on the shirt," Rovnak added.

Karin turned at the flap, her noble poise firmly reassembled. "If I had... I'd have meant it as a compliment."

And with that, she stepped back into the falling dusk.