Myriad Reckonings

Tarkin nodded to him and dropped the carcasses onto a counter, trusting the servants would spirit them away to a freezer.

"I'd appreciate it if you tried not to harrass my employee," he said to Gideon.

"I'm just making friendly conversation," Gideon retorted.

"You're distracting him."

Sirejj frowned slightly. He was as focused as ever. It would make his 'duties' far simpler if Tarkin didn't disappear off on his own like he had that morning.

"Stars, you're set in this snit, aren't you." Gideon straightened. "Don't let me irritate you further, brother. Enjoy your breakfast." He gave Sirejj a nod. "We'll catch up later, Nightbrother. I'd be interested to hear more of your stories."

Sirejj gave him a nod and raised his cup to him as he left. Nightbrother. It felt good to be properly addressed. He turned his gaze to Tarkin and leaned back against the counter. The governor was a sight. Sirejj was well rested and with his energy replenished, was ready to move.

"Sleep well, Governor?" He knew for a fact Tarkin had not

"No." Tarkin washed his hands and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Help yourself to that." He gestured to the carcasses. He did feel more irritable this morning. It had been building since their retreat from the moon, and the hunt had done little to soothe him.

Sirejj stepped over, pulled a sharp knife with a carved bone handle from his belt, and cut himself some of the meat.
He could sense his irritation. It didn't take a force user to feel that. For a man who claimed to be so distant from his son, this entire thing was certainly disturbing him.

"I'll call Thalassa as soon as I've cleaned up," he told him, leaning against the counter. "I'm sure you're eager to speak to her." He scratched at his chin; a little stubble was growing, just enough to annoy him.

"Quite." He cut the pieces of meat down to reasonable size and ate straight off his knife. It was a step up from using his hands like a complete savage, but not far. He mulled over what questions he would ask.

"Is it hard for the Lady Tarkin to speak of her son?" He said at length, after rinsing off his hands and blade and wiping the blade clean with a cloth.

"Not at all." Tarkin watched him over the rim of his cup. "Not anymore." Thalassa had a harder time speaking to him in the early days than she did actually talking about Garoche. She'd blamed him. Maybe she still did. No, she definitely did. But she wasn't some shrinking violet who didn't talk about her grief.

"I was simply wondering if it would be best to...limit the company during the conversation." He felt it would be a fight to get to talk to her alone but it was worth a try. Tarkin's presence would potentially add a variable onto all of her answers

Tarkin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Was he trying to shoe him out of the conversation? That wouldn't stand.

"Whatever you think is most effective get to the answers we want, Governor." He backed down. He sensed he may have struck a nerve.

Tarkin regarded him in silence for a stretch, brushing a thumb over his cup. He had a feeling Sirejj wanted to minimize bias from either of them--they had a tendency to needle one another, he knew. But at the same time, this was their son. They were in it together. Their resources were pooled.
He wasn't going to be left out of anything.

"Did my brother offer you anything of use?" he asked finally, opting to change the subject. He'd stay in the room with Sirejj during the talk unless Thalassa thought it best to be interviewed alone, which she probably wouldn't. She knew there was a strategic advantage to their both being privy to information regarding Garoche's death.

It had been worth a shot.

"No, we hadn't quite gotten that far when you came in." He looked down at his knife, careful to clean out every groove of the well used handle. It had molded to his hand over time. The blade had been replaced more frequently than he cared to count, but he'd always managed to keep the bone handle. It was one of his valued items.

Tarkin's eyes settled on the knife. It was much like the Zabrak's staff, care-worn and custom made. He appreciated the obvious affection Sirejj had for it; he treated his own weaponry with similar respect.

"It's for the best I nipped that in the bud, then." He finished his coffee. "I'd appreciate you minimizing your nosing around my family life beyond what is directly relevant to the investigation."