Khi, your little brother needs some attention.

[Artist is @NoHomoExpress on Twitter, check him out because his commissions are open.]

You might have been some seven years apart, but your twenty year old brother was still impishly short. A clear cut difference between who got their father’s genes and whom their mother’s. You walk around the formation and take a staircase going down a floor and find him resting, seated on the lap of an scavenged and scrounged Old Republic droid. With his helmet off, Khi’s messy brown locks are styled back, short and practical with a rugged look. What are the chances that it’s a look he was trying to copy from one of those stories of his?

There is a book in his lap, and you can tell he’s somewhere near the end. A tale about a Rodian bandit who broke the skies with his greed, you thought it was a tragedy but according to his smiles it was more comedic if anything. “What’s so funny, Khi’ika?”

His face immediately lights up in a smile as he sets down a bookmark, made from a folded up straw. “Ah, Ori’vod! You’ve returned!” He sets the book down and hops off of his impromptu chair to run up to you, wrapping his arms around your chest. A whole head shorter than you, and then some - but given his training perhaps he benefitted more thanks to your father’s genes.

You run a hand through his hair, patting it down before you returned the hug with a smile. Chuckling, you release your embrace though his grip only grows tighter. “Come, lets go back to our room. I’m starving.”

The mention of food is enough for him to release you from his clutches, “Right! Oh yeah, do you remember those parts Jun came across? Well apparently she found a buyer in the Uppercity...” Khi’s a rather chatty guy, or at least he is when speaking with family, he’s practically a ball of energy. Lithe and toned, but much to his dismay his body refuses to give him a six-pack and the whole dreamy hunk package is a far cry from even the range of his blaster rifle.