For a 5 sentence fic prompt: "Cody, No."
“Cody, no.”
Cody keeps walking, slowly but purposefully. Waxer twists to stare pleadingly at Fox instead.
When Cody had said, just after the General signed off to make Waxer’s promotion official, Next time we’re on Coruscant, we’re getting you shitfaced, Waxer had thought that meant 79′s. Or rotgut in the Corrie bunks.
Not some lowest-levels bar, haphazardly set up in what might’ve once been a warehouse, run by natborns, patrons also all natborns and almost all visibly armed. Waxer’s pretty sure the only reason Fox should be in this place is to shut it down.
He should’ve expected this, though. That’s probably the entire appeal.
And now some guy’s said something, just loud enough to carry over the ambient noise, and Waxer didn’t hear what it was but going by the look that washed over Cody’s face it was nothing good.
“Listen, kid,” Fox says, as Cody shoves his way to the guy’s table and says something quietly, “That’s not how you Cody-wrangle.”
Waxer blinks at him incredulously. Someone else at the table has pulled a knife.
“Telling Cody not to do something,” Fox continues, like he’s offering advice on weapons maintenance, “means he will do it. No matter what it is. What you do instead is distract him -- you know why we’re not at 79s?”
Waxer’s never spent any time with Fox before, so he’s not earned the right to say ‘Cause the two of you are insane even by vod’e standards. But almost every minute since his impromptu field promotion has demonstrated very effectively that officers are a level of utter karking batshit Waxer didn’t think a person could be and still be functional.
Cody’s about to pick a fight with some natborn civvie who’s likely wanted for murder at least, and that’s not even the worst thing Waxer’s seen him do this week.
“‘Cause you’re two of the highest ranking officers in the whole GAR?” He asks, carefully.
Cody grabs the guy by the front of their shirt, pulls them up out their seat, and shoves them up against the wall. He’s holding the other guy’s knife, now, to the first guy’s neck.
“‘Cause no one’ll pick a fight with a commander,” Fox agrees.
A third guy, the biggest of the group, swings a punch at Cody’s head.
Everything gets hard to follow, after that.
When the dust settles, Cody’s stood over a lot of unconscious people and a couple corpses. He’s up to three knives, and he looks incredibly pleased with himself.
He walks back over to their table, drops the knives in front of Fox, steals the last of Fox’s drink, and says, “Cody, yes.”
