The Lady of Ren

Melons

Three Months Later

"C-50?"

The silver protocol droid immediately answers your call, his loyalty trait obviously functioning perfectly. He enters the main room of your quarters with a mechanical creak, wires twisting each time he fumbles with his arms.

"Yes, ambassador?" he asks kindly.

You say, "If BB wakes up tell him I'm in the cafeteria; I'm craving a bowl of fruit." You start for the black and velvet coat draped along the back of the couch.

"Yes, ambassador," he says and then pauses. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to order it for you?" His voice raises with concern. For the past few months, C-50 has kept a keen eye on your state of health. It's sweet but unnecessary, though you didn't have the heart to tell him.

"No thank you. Need to stretch my legs," you reply.

The faithful droid barely nods and says, "Very well."

You leave the quarters after glancing at BB on his charging pad one last time. His battery has been completely drained after staying up with you for almost fourteen hours. Despite the exhaustion depleting you of energy, you've had trouble sleeping – and that was putting it generously. He sits beside you while you busy yourself with your duties or scan your datapad for messages.

It's been tedious being pregnant, especially since your line of work hasn't been very demanding. Ever since the coup, the business is repetitive. Baleine has been reclusive ever since the incident; they haven't even bothered requesting your guidance with Yabbai. Besides being bored of their distance, it pissed you off. After all, Baleine was your home planet and they were treating you thus? Ridiculous.

You sigh while entering the cafeteria. No one is here considering the hour; the cycle has kept everyone at their work stations.

You'll be honest; if there was one thing you enjoyed most about being ambassador it was the full access you had to the kitchen. The availability of the cafeteria was one of many perks but it's been your lifesaver for the past three months. Your cravings have been rampant – you wanted to eat everything all the time. Fats, carbs, sweets, fruit. Oh, fruit. All of the fruit.

The freezer full of melons and squabbas made your mouth water. When you open it, a thin cloud of vapor hit your face, the frost chilling your bones. Immediately the smell of sweet pears and other juices filled your nostrils.

Just as you were about to reach for a red melon, the door of the kitchen opens. You freeze, melon gripped in your palm.

"Oh, hello ambassador."

You turn and find a silver helmet pointed in your direction. The infamous captain stands firmly with a blaster at her hip.

"Oh, Captain Phasma." You put down the fruit.

"Please, continue. I was just fetching something to drink." She reaches for her helmet.

You've seen Phasma with her helmet off before but the female underneath her chrome armor never fails to amaze you. Her chopped, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes makes you feel a bit tender inside.

The captain slips off her helmet and places it on the durasteel cabinet beside her. (She's totally showing off. With her height, it's completely possible to reach that.) You shift in your stance, suddenly very aware of your humble stature.

You grab the melon again and finally shut the freezer's hatch. "Been a long day, captain?" you ask her, taking a seat on the floor.

She watches you slip to the tile of the kitchen floor and you don't blame her for the shocked glimmer in her expression when you do. But your feet are tired and you're too damn pregnant to care about the dirt underneath your butt.