#lt croy

For those who did the deep dive read on my Croya playlist, you might remember I said I was working on a lil fic for a specific spot. This started as a bit of a silly spinoff of the stormtrooper post, but morphed into something a little more serious. I’m still waiting on an ao3 account, so I’m posting it here for now so I stop making minuscule edits! (No promises: I might still make some minuscule edits.)

Words: 5,287
Rating/Warnings: PG?? Sir, this is a fade to black household. Various alcohol references.

—

Becky wasn’t paid enough for this.

It wasn’t that Chandrila Starlines underpaid their staff–they were actually more than fair–it’s just that this particular task wasn’t really in her job description.

…was it?

‘Passenger services’.

Perhaps it was.

At any rate, she was feeling vastly underpaid in this particular unique moment, as she lifted her hand and rapped on the cabin door in front of her.

A few moments passed before the cabin door slid open a crack and the face of one Lieutenant Harman Croy peered out, looking immediately cross.

“Do you know what time it is??” he questioned in his usual incredulous tone, though clearly trying to keep it hushed due to the hour.

Becky nodded, trying not to sigh. At least not externally. Customer service face, Becky. “My apologies sir, but–”

“The boys just went down to sleep,” he stated, exasperated but still trying to keep to a whisper.

“Yes, Sir, but–wait… what boys?”

“TheTroopers,” Croy replied. “They’ve had a very long day.”

Becky caught herself beginning to laugh and stopped it by turning it into a cough. “Ah, yes, well again, I apologize for the interruption, but I’ve been sent with a message for you.”

His eyes narrowed, briefly shifting to her name-tag. “Becky from Batuu. What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait until a waking hour?”

She briefly debated not telling him. It’s not like she had any love for his organization, so helping out a First Order Lieutenant wasn’t really anything she’d woken up expecting to do that day. But neither was she interested in denying the one who’d sent the message, because it would certainly get back to her supervisors.

And frankly, she’d kind of made a bet with Jeremy in the kitchen about how this would turn out. Now she needed this to happen or she’d be out credits that she’d rather keep.

She made the decision to spill:

“It’s a message from Gaya.”

Almost instantly he’d slid out from behind the door and into the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulders in excitement. “Tell me everything.”

Becky decided to ignore the physical hold he had on her for the moment, as he was in a good mood now. “Sir, she wishes to meet with you.”

“Me? Where??” he exclaimed, probably louder than he realized as it echoed down the hallway.

Oh yes, she was winning this bet. Take that, Jeremy. She smiled, pointing. “Just down the hall. In her cabin.”

He seemed to freeze in place as he took in that sentence, his gaze staring past her at the wall. Maybe his brain has just melted, Becky thought. She’d heard of weirder things happening out there in the galaxy. She cleared her throat out loud, to remind him he still had a hold on her. “Lieutenant?”

He snapped his attention back to her. “Oh.” He let go of her shoulders, brushing them off a bit. “My apologies, Becky. I thought I heard you playing a prank on me.” His eyes grew serious once more as he locked onto her gaze.

“Oh it’s no prank, Sir. I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.” At least, not to your face…

He began walking around her, like suddenly he’d stepped into interrogation mode. “Becky from Batuu, if Gaya wished to speak with me, why would she send you instead of delivering her news to me in person?”

“Ah, she said you’d say that,” Becky said, thankful to be ready for this one. “So she explicitly told me to remind you that–and I’m quoting her here, remember–… ’Gaya does not come to you. You come to Gaya.’”

His jaw clenched for a moment while he mulled over the statement, and then: “That… does sound like something she’d say…”

“She’s just down there. Grand Captain’s Suite on the left.” Becky pointed towards the luxury rooms.

“Grand Captain’s Suite??” he looked downright perturbed now. “Her entourage got a Captain’s Suite, and we got this sorry state of a room??”

“Oh. No. Ouannii and Raithe both have their own rooms.” She took great joy in delivering this news, despite knowing she couldn’t show it.

“Their own rooms…?!” His voice got a little higher. “While the three of us are in squalor?”

It was getting even harder not to laugh. “Lieutenant, our rooms on the Halcyon are all state of the art–”

“I have to share a refresher with Stormtroopers, Becky. Stormtroopers.”

“Gaya was also a planned guest,” she decided to point out.

He seemed to let that comment go completely over his head as he continued: “…do you know how disgusting that armor gets in the inside??”

“You know, I’ve never had the pleasure, but um, Lieutenant, Sir, may I ask you a question?”

“What, Becky?”

“Are you… avoiding talking to Gaya right now?”

He gave her another perplexed look. Perhaps too perplexed. Like maybe he was pretending not to know what she was talking about. “What? Why would I…”

“Look Sir, I’ve delivered my message, and she’s right there in that cabin,” she motioned again at the appropriate door. “May I go now?”

The confused, slightly suspicious look hadn’t left his face as he narrowed his eyes at her one more time, and then finally waved her off. “Fine, go. It’s late and you’re making far too much noise for these halls.”

“Thank you Lieutenant.” She decided to keep a sarcastic good night wish to herself, and quickly hurried back down the hallway, ducking into a nearby staff corridor to no longer be seen. The slingball was in his court now.

—-

Lieutenant Harman Croy was left standing in a hallway alone, still processing the message he’d been given.

Provided this was not, in fact, a prank from the ship’s staff, he still wasn’t entirely sure of the intent behind it. The last time he’d seen Gaya that night, it had not ended on the best of terms.

He glanced one way down the hallway, and then the other, as he debated his next move. The hallway was empty, as most of the passengers had gone to bed. Those who were still up were surely the unruly types in the Sublight Lounge, and they were at least a deck away. No one was in sight.

He slid back into his own cabin for a moment, and quickly into the refresher, where he could lean against the counter and take stock of himself in the mirror out of sight. He was certain both of his troopers were already asleep, shoved in the measly bunks around the corner, but in that moment he felt the need for the extra privacy the refresher gave him to think.

“Alright Harman,” he spoke quietly to his reflection. “What’s going on here? What are we doing?”

He tapped his fingers on the counter on either side of the sink. If this was a prank…

No, the crew of the ship valued their jobs. Who would possibly risk throwing away such a career with a prestigious company like Chandrila all for a bit of childish entertainment? Especially when they knew that’s exactly what he was on the ship to look for. Croy wouldn’t put it past some of the passengers on this voyage to toy with him. He’d already seen it firsthand. But the crew… the crew would be instructed to be on their best behaviour specifically to hide the real subversion he was here to sniff out, right?

Besides, even if it were a prank, what would be the harm in knocking on Gaya’s door for a chat?

“A lot of harm, actually,” he spoke out loud to himself once more. “Quite an embarrassing amount.”

He turned around to sit against the counter edge in thought, absentmindedly beginning to chew a nail. An unsightly habit he thought he’d eradicated in his youth, but apparently his nerves had begun to fray at a much faster pace than he’d realized.

What was it about her that made all of his trained discipline crumble so quickly?

She was beautiful, yes. Talented, absolutely. If you liked that kind of music. (He liked that kind of music.) She was…

Powerful.

And Croy was drawn to power like a moth to a flame.

She’d flaunted it in his face mere hours earlier, and there had been no denying it. She’d earned it. It was hers.

Gaya.

People flocked to that name. No organization attached.

No one heard his name and cared. His power came from the insignia on his uniform. The backup, with guns. The literal ’Power’ embroidered into his left sleeve: technically the name of a great Imperial Admiral Clyss Power, but reminding him every day of a bigger picture.

Croy absentmindedly reached up to adjust his hat out of habit, forgetting he’d torn it and his gloves off in frustration as soon as he and the troopers had returned to the privacy of the room. As successful as bolting the droid had been, there’d been something about that atrium full of people mostly booing him that still managed to creep under his skin as he’d walked out of the room.

Now, he glanced at the hat where it sat in the hallway by the mirror, staring at the First Order insignia. Why couldn’t these people see what he was trying to do for them? Why were they so reluctant up to the point of acting like petulant children?

His eyes shifted upwards towards the mirror, and he quickly adjusted his drooping posture. Unraveling now was not a good look, especially not for Gaya.

Gaya. She was still waiting for him.

It was now or never if he was going to investigate this message from Becky. He stepped back into the hall to get a better look in the mirror. He adjusted his jacket, straightening out what he could, and dusted off a shoulder. His hand hovered over his hat, debating.

“I didn’t know there’d be men in uniform,” she’d said when she had arrived on the ship. It had been flirtatious, in a somewhat lighthearted way, but had she meant it? Did she like it?

The band around his arm once again called out to him in his reflection the mirror. Power.

The hat went on his head in a quick, well-practiced motion, and he scooped up his gloves, sliding them back on his hands as he slipped out the cabin door back into the hallway.

“Alright,Becky from Batuu” he muttered to himself as he marched down the hallway. “Time to find out if you’re sleeping in the brig tonight.”

Finding out Gaya’s room was so close to his had been a welcome surprise, though that had been nearly quashed in an instant when the irritation of finding out it was one of the big rooms got the better of him. Now, as he stood in front of the door, all he felt was nervous.

One last adjustment of his jacket, a quick pull at the collar as he started to feel a little warm, but he calmed himself with a deep breath, and then he knocked.

And waited.

He glanced side to side down each direction of the hallway once more, making sure no one was coming to further embarrass him if this was all a joke. But the halls stayed silent.

Finally, the door slid open, and his heart nearly stopped.

She had changed.

Adorned now in a white, long sleeved dressing gown with just a hint of silver trim, overtop what he could only assume was her sleeping nightgown, Gaya stood before him. Her makeup hadn’t been touched yet, but she’d shed all of her lekku adornments and jewelry, save for the gold bracelet on her left hand.

It wasn’t “Galactic Superstar Gaya” standing in front of him. It felt like it was closer to just… Gaya. Embarrassment set in as he suddenly realized he probably shouldn’t be seeing her like this, and his face grew warm.

She smiled calmly with a hint of surprise, similar to the way she had the first time they’d met this afternoon. “Lieutenant. I was beginning to think you were ignoring my message.”

Had he taken that long? How long had it taken Becky to bring him word?

“W-well, Miss Gaya you know, there are reports to file,” he stammered out, trying to regain a sense of control over his own voice. She was standing before him still fully clothed. Why did it feel like she was so… bare?? “You, uh, you wished to speak with me??”

“Yes, I…” she paused for a moment, and it felt like an eternity. He wasn’t sure where he should even look, so he forced his eyes to take in the inside of the cabin instead of her. There was just so much… room. “I wanted to ask you some things, away from the audiences,” Gaya finally said as she turned and walked over to the small bar that the bigger rooms contained. She grabbed two metal cups and began pouring into them. “No public pretenses, or games… just an honest chat.” She came back with the cups, offering him one.

He put up a hand of refusal out of habit. “I’m sorry, Miss Gaya, I don’t partake in–”

“It’s water, Croy,” she said flatly, almost irritated. He flushed some more and quickly took the cup, staring into it. She sighed, “For all the amazing dining service this ship has to offer, the room service kind of lacks.”

“Ah, yes,” he agreed, flashing a smile, despite having no idea what room service was. He took a sip from the cup, jolting a little at the discovery that it was sparkling water. Why was this even allowed? He stared even deeper into the cup.

“Anyway,” she continued. “About today… twice you walked out on my performances tonight. Why?”

He allowed his gaze to shift back up to meet hers. “Why… Miss Gaya, it felt very much like I was… unwanted there.”

“And what gave you the first clue?”

“The insistence on ’Oola Shuka’, for a start.”

“A start? You choose the moment you walked out as the start of the problem?” she laughed, shaking her head a little as she went for a sip of her own water.

“Well…”

“Youcan come in, Croy. I don’t bite.”

His feet remained glued to their spot at the threshold of the doorway. “At dinner it… felt like you might.”

She smirked a little, “Sometimes you’ve got to put on a show. I’m sure you understand. I’ve seen your own brand of theatrics at play.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, waving the cup of water around just a little too dramatically. He quickly steadied it when he realized it was about to slosh out of the cup.

“Mmhmm,” Gaya nodded, one eyebrow raised. She set her cup down on the bar. “Well that brings me back around to the main question, Lieutenant: why did you return for the second dinner?”

“Well, I…”

“You knew you would likely get the same reception. Same setlist. And yet, there you were…”

“I simply enjoy you–I mean–your music, and I…”

“Would try to disrupt it again?”

He stared at her in surprise, slightly offended now. “Miss Gaya, most of our interactions were initiated by you. Or that… little guitarist’s outbursts.” Earlier, Croy had definitely made several mental notes to throw that kid in the brig as soon as he had the chance.

“Sandro was only defending me,” Gaya said, much cooler now. “I was literally in the middle of a speech about vulnerability, Croy. Had you listened to a word of it, you might have learned a thing or two.”

“My troopers arrived with news, I couldn’t–”

“No Croy, it could have waited. There is nothing going on on this ship that was so pressing that it couldn’t have waited while I poured my heart out to the audience. Do you understand that?”

If she only knew. “Miss–”

“Croy. Look at me.”

He listened, shifting his gaze back towards her beautiful, all too serious face, as she stepped closer to him.

“There is nothing happening on this ship that is more important than me. Got it?”

There it was. That power. Galactic Superstar Gaya. He nodded, swallowing a dry lump in his throat. He lifted his cup quickly.

“Good,” she snatched the cup out of his hand before he could bury his face in it once more, and turned to put it down next to hers on the counter. “Now, we have got to do something about that dancing of yours.”

“My dancing??” he frowned. “What was wrong with my dancing?”

“Only that it looked like you’d never danced in your life.”

That wasn’t far from the truth. It had been a very long time. “I don’t… typically dance, no. I don’t see the point.”

“Let me guess,” she leaned against the bar. “The First Order forbids it.”

“It’s certainly… not encouraged.”

“Right. No fun allowed.”

“That’s not true,” Croy insisted. “Good hard work is fun! And… Imay have had some fun tonight.”

“Until'Oola Shuka’.”

“Until you intentionally played a banned song to run me out twice, yes.”

“It’s also my top hit,” she pointed out. “Why would I deny my fans my most popular track just because you are in the room?”

“Because it’s the law,” he stated.

“Not my law,” she said. “Not my homeworld’s law. And certainly not the law on this ship.”

“I am the law on this ship.”

“No, Lieutenant. Captain Keevan is.”

He scoffed. “Not for long.”

She rolled her eyes, putting up a hand to stop him. “Alright, before you start that talk, I’ll need to track down something stronger. But hey, if you’re not going to acknowledge 'Oola Shuka’ because someone told you you’re not allowed, do you have your own favourite?”

“Favourite… of your songs?”

She nodded, waiting.

He took a moment to mull over the thought. His favourite song? Most people didn’t ask him his favourite anything. One typically didn’t discuss hobbies with their fellow officers. Hobbies were wasted time.

He thought about the songs he’d already known before that day: the ones that he’d heard enough to make him a fan before she’d even stepped foot on the ship. Gaya’s setlist that night had covered most of them, or made him appreciate others in a new way. As awkward as it had been, he certainly now had a memory attached to 'Rockstar Queen’. A few of the other songs had been enough to get him toe tapping, and at least one had him singing along before he’d caught himself. But, one…

“Would you like my honesty?” he asked, wringing his hands a little.

“Of course.”

“I think that 'Poverty of Love’ is one of your best.”

Her brows lifted, and her posture straightened, even while still leaning on the counter. “Oh?”

“It’s, ah… more real,” he tried to explain, without really explaining. “More…”

“Relatable?” she inquired, suddenly seeming more curious. “That’s interesting…”

A noise down the hallway gave Croy pause, and he glanced over to see a late hour passenger headed their way. Instinctively, Croy spun on his heels to face the hallway, and tried to fill up as much of the doorway as possible. As the person approached, he recognized the man as one of the loyalists who’d greeted him with a hearty handshake early in the day. Croy wracked his brain trying to remember the man’s strange Earth name, and the passenger gave him a sloppy salute on approach.

“Cap'n.”

Croy decided not to correct him, partially because 'Captain’ was technically a higher rank, but also because the man had clearly had too many in the Sublight Lounge. “Ah, Stewart! Staying vigilant I see?”

“Y-you got it… cap'n,” he slurred as he wobbled passed, headed for his cabin. He’d barely even looked towards them as he continued down the hallway, but Croy specifically

shifted his body along with him to stay in front of his view.

Croy waited until Stewart had disappeared into his cabin before shaking his head and turning back around. Gaya was still leaning against the bar, now looking amused.

“What was that?”

“What?” he asked, confused. “The drunken loyalist? A perfectly good reason why I don’t imbibe in frivolous drinks, that’s what.”

“No, what were you doing there? Earlier in the day, I certainly didn’t get the impression that you’d be scared to be seen with me,” she smirked, pushing off the bar to step towards him once more. “In fact… Raithe had to shoo you a few times.”

“You know, you should have a talk with your employee,” Croy agreed. “He needs to know his place.”

“He’s only doing what I’ve asked of him,” Gaya countered. “At my status, it’s common to have people get… clingy.” She reached over and peeled a fuzz off his sleeve. He might have stopped breathing, but she asked once more, causing him to snap his focus back to her voice. “So, what was that in the hall?”

“W-well you’re not…” he searched his mind for the right word that wouldn’t cause offense. He decided to start over. “I only wished to protect your modesty, Miss Gaya.”

A smile crossed her face that was hard to read. Something akin to the way one would react to a child who had just said something ridiculous, liked maybe she was trying not to laugh. Whatever she was thinking, it made him regret his words immediately.

“I’m sorry, I should take my leave and let you rest,” he turned around, wanting to hide his embarrassment back in his own cabin.

A hand clasped onto his shoulder. “Croy.”

He stopped and glanced back at her.

She sighed. “Look, we are two very different people, on very different paths that I think neither of us are interested in veering from. That makes anything between us very complicated, and downright impossible.”

He fully turned back to face her, confused.

“And I don’t need anyone 'protecting my modesty’, alright? I can do that on my own.”

Croy flushed red some more. “I apologize, Miss Gaya, I…”

“If you think a comfortable robe because I’m no longer performing for a crowd is immodest–”

“I misspoke. That wasn’t what I–”

“Croy just… shut. up. while I’m speaking or I’m going to change my mind.”

He shut his mouth. Change her mind about what?

She took a deep breath, seeming to recollect her thoughts. “It wasn’t needed, what you did. But however misguided… in its own way, it was sweet.”

What? What?? His pulse pounded in his head now.

“This wasn’t my intention when I originally asked to speak with you, but…” She reached up to play with his lapel, just a little. “I’m going to give you a onetime offer. Take it or leave it. You won’t get another chance, understood?”

“I-I definitely do not understand…” He admitted, and that was mostly because it was growing more difficult to register words. He continued to stare down at his lapel long after her hand had retreated.

“Harman, look at me.”

His name? His… first name?? He forced his eye line back to meet hers.

“You can turn around and go back to your cabin, get a good night’s rest, and we’ll forget this even happened.”

“…o-?” he squeaked out. He quickly cleared his throat, and tried again. “…or??”

“Or…” she turned away from him, headed for the couch in front of her cabin’s viewport. “You finally step in my damn doorway, and shut the door behind you.” She sat down and looked at him, expectantly. “And tomorrow morning, we forget this even happened.”

Had time stopped? He was pretty sure time had stopped. His breathing certainly had. Maybe even his heart. It was the only reason he could even fathom that a thousand thoughts were burning in his skull at the exact same time, but there was certainly no way to register what any of them were.

“Harman?”

He jumped, pulled back to reality by another use of his first name.

“I know it’s forward of me,” she admitted. “I won’t judge you either way. Just make a damn choice for yourself for the first time in your life, while my offer still stands.”

He stared at Gaya just a little while longer, taking in the image of her sitting on the couch, waiting. The beautiful violet shade of her skin seemed even more vibrant than ever, and her eyes were so expectant, watching him, waiting…

He took a step forward.

He slid the door closed behind him.

And he slammed a finger onto the Do Not Disturb button by the door.

–

Around the corner of the service corridor where she had hidden herself to wait, Becky excitedly pulled out her datapad, and shot a quick message to Jeremy.

'You owe me 50 credits.’

—–

-A few days later-

Lieutentant Harman Croy sat alone at the bar, staring into a glass of water. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come here, only that he knew he needed to be out of the First Order headquarters for a breather. While the Halcyon investigation was still going on, after everything that’d happened the place had begun to give him an anxiety he could not describe. Like the walls were closing in around him, and he was running out of time.

He’d been so close. A promotion surely would have been in his hands. He had been right, after all. He’d sniffed out serious resistance activity for The Supreme Leader.

It wasn’t his fault that Ren was so obsessed with that girl that his judgement head been in turn soclouded.

Though, maybe Croy related, just a little.

But that hadn’t affected his performance on this mission, he was sure of it. He’d set out to find them, and he found them. They’d just been… too numerous than originally anticipated. People weren’t fond of being treated as expendable.

Who knew?

Another feeling Croy now understood first hand.

It was probably his only saving grace that Ren had clearly also failed in… whatever was going on in his domain. There had been no reports from the Supreme Leader at all. Nothing to tell Colonel Talis what the state of the ship really was, what his orders had been, and how Croy had been forced at gunpoint to lie about both in the end.

Croy knew it wasn’t to protect him. He knew now that he was insignificant to the Order. This whole thing had truly shown him that. Kylo Ren was saving himself from embarrassment by not commenting on the events that night.

But Croy knew for certain that he never wanted to cross paths with The Supreme Leader again.

“I know that look.”

Frowning, Croy slowly glanced over towards the gruff voice that had interrupted his thoughts. Sliding onto the bar stool next to him was an older man, probably in his seventies, his white hair continuing down his face into a pair of large scruffy mutton chops.

Ignoring Croy’s immediate disdain, he continued: “You look like a man whose world view has been shattered. Though most of us do it with something stronger than… is that water??”

Croy clenched his gloved fists against the bar counter. “I made a solemn view not to imbibe until–”

“Yeah yeah,” he waved him off. “Bartender: a tall one for the poor lieutenant, on me.”

The bartender nodded and got to work on a new drink. Croy rolled his eyes, moving to stand up, but a strong hand clasped onto his shoulder.

“Hold on there, son.”

“Sir, do I know you??” Croy asked in annoyance, trying to shake off the man’s hand.

“No. But I know you.” The old man said. He glanced around the room for a moment, and then back at Croy, quieter this time. “Keep this on the down low, but I’m a former Imperial myself.”

Croy wasn’t sure why he wanted it to be a secret, but he nodded slowly. “Well… thank you for your service.”

“Hell no,” the man gave a disgusted look. “It’s not something I’ve been proud of for decades. It took me too many years to realize the mess I’d signed myself up for. Too many terrible mistakes. Until finally… I looked a lot like you do, right now.”

“Respectfully,Sir,” Croy finally got up fully from the bar stool. “You don’t know a thing about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my office.” He turned to leave.

“What’s their name?”

Croy stopped walking. He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“What is their name?” the man repeated. “The one who has you sitting in a bar contemplating whether you ever want to put that ugly uniform on again?”

He spun back on his heels. “Sir I’ve given my heart and my soul to The First Order. If–”

The older man nodded, as if in agreement. “And there lies the problem.”

We are two very different people, on very different paths that I think neither of us are interested in veering from.

Croy shook the memory from his head and then scowled. “We’re in First Order jurisdiction on this planet, old man. I could arrest you right now for this treasonous conversation.”

“But you won’t,” the man said as calmly as everything else he’d said that night. He reached for the drink that had been freshly dropped off–something bright yellow, with flecks of red floating in it–and held it out to Croy. “Because you know I’m right.”

Croy’s hands curled into fists at his sides, simply staring the other man down.

Just make a damn choice for yourself for the first time in your life.

“Sir, respectfully, I do not want that drink.” Croy finally snapped at him.

The older man sighed, relaxing his arm.

Then, Croy pointed at a nearby customer who was sipping something blue. “I want one of those ones. Whatever it is, it looks less like it’ll kill me.”

The man smirked, waving the bartender over once more as Croy slid back onto the barstool next to him. “That’s more like it,” he said. “One of those sparkly things please, barkeep.”

Croy sighed. Was he really doing this?

The older man took a swig of the yellow drink. “Jokes on you, the blue one’s probably stronger.”

“What!?”

“The prettier it is, it tends to… hide the pain longer.”

“Well, isn’t that relatable,” Croy said dryly as the new drink was slid in front of him.

The mutton chopped man laughed a bit, just a gruff little chuckle. “See I knew there was someone. There’s always… someone.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Croy muttered.

“You’d be surprised what I’d believe. Bottom’s up,” he waved his glass a little, and then leaned back a bit as he took a much bigger swig this time around.

Croy lifted an eyebrow at his own drink now, and then glanced at the bartender. “You wouldn’t happen to have a straw, would you?”

The barkeep’s response was an unimpressed dead stare back at him. “No.”

“Oh, alright. One last question: I couldn’t help but notice your DJ droid in the corner there seems to be stuck in a loop of Figrin D'an on repeat–”

His new companion put his now nearly empty glass on the counter in surprise. “Hey, 'Mad About Me’ is a damn classic.”

“It’s a bit staleafter 10 plays in a row, don’t you think?” Croy asked, finally lifting his own drink.

“Ya got a better suggestion?” asked the barkeep.

Croy smiled over the rim of his glass. “Let’s try 'Oola Shuka’.”

I found this pic via Google image search the other day and I was so surprised! Whenever I’ve seen video of Rey accidentally being spotted sneaking around the ship, it’s been by stormtroopers, and she obviously easily mind tricks them to forget what they saw. Croy has got to be a rare and more intense run-in. I’m sure that she’s still successfully mind tricking him in the photo because obviously it works (not just for the story to work in that he doesn’t know she’s there until near the end, but also because, well, it’s Croy we’re talking about here. ), but I’d loooove to know how it all went down!