The Officer {Orson Krennic X Reader}

XVII. The Weight of Lives

Holy Snokes I have deprived this story of all attention. I feel really bad. Sorry readers!

Anyway, I'll try to update this more often. New Year's Resolution: update this every week again.

Oh yeah, Happy New Year!

On to the story! I don't own anything blah blah disclaimer.
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A thick atmosphere spreads through the air, gobbling the distrust fed from the human beings, and creating tension so thick it was hard to breathe. Deciding you've had enough of listening to Krennic and Len try and outdo each other with words, you stand, thank Len for dinner, and head outside. You need the fresh air.

Out here, the air is less stifling, allowing your mind to clear. You can feel yourself think again. Subconsciously, you walk until the house lights become nothing but small orbs that light your way home, if you care to refer to it as home.

Now that you are out of the stiff atmosphere, you take the time to calm yourself down. Why are you nervous? Are you really nervous or was that stress taking the form of perspiration? Maybe you need lighter clothing? But it's cold out...

'Stop talking, stop thinking, stop doing,' your mind says and you obey. You promptly seat yourself on the sand-ish ground. Then you study the sky and try to relax yourself. When you can't, you repeat the ASCII codes for every Aurabesh letter.

You miss tapping on a computer. Hell, you miss doing the constant stream of math problems. Throughout your cadet training, you often would solve math problems to calm yourself down whenever you felt stressed. Taking your blaster and checking if the safety is engaged, you use the barrel to scribble out the longest and most complex equation you can come up with to get the number 2.

Footsteps make you peek over your shoulder. The lighting's too dim for you to see who it was, and all you could tell was that it was a tall figure. Your finger hovers over the safety lock of your blaster.

"It's just me, Mello," says the figure. Relieved, you let your finger fall away from the safety and watch Mello approach. He stands over you, trying to read your writing by outlining it with a small flashlight he brought. When he can't figure out what's going on, he turns the flashlight off and sits next to you. "You've got the right idea, (Name)," he says.

"What?" Is your response.

"Coming out here to enjoy the night."

You can't help but feel as though there more behind his reason for following you. Mello rarely does anything on his own. For all you knew, he had no idea how to live outside of Orsson's orders. "Did Orson send you out to check on me?"

"Negative," Mello says. "Director Krennc is in a heated argument. This is my own doing."

You raise an eyebrow. "You sure you weren't ordered?"

He frowns, nodding. "Yes, I am." Okay, if that's the truth, you'll accept it. "It'a rather strange to do something on my own free will. Is it like this for you?"

His words confuse you. Still, you take your best shot at a good answer. "Sometimes." A pressing question arises in your head. "Mello, why do you follow Orson's orders so strictly?"

"I will lay down my life for Director Krennic. If it means following his orders to the grave, so be it. I know I'm just a tool to protect him if he's ever threatened. I follow his orders to keep him safe, and to make him feel safe. And while I believe he may have abandoned what it means to be a high-class imperial with you, I'll continue to serve him until he retired or die." His icy green eyes meet with yours. "Can you say the same about yourself?"