The razor I’m using is old and beaten. It’s still sharp enough to clean the stubble from my face as I shave. That’s odd—five years ago, I barely even needed to worry about such a simple ritual as shaving my face. Now, I almost don’t even need to look in the mirror when I do. It’s something I do whenever I’ve earned a respite from the battles I fought for the Republic, and now the Empire. Why? Well, it’s part of the regs for one, but it’s also a reminder that I’m still alive and sane. Right now, it’s just me in the refresher, a rarity for sure, and so I can take my time about my shave. There’s a faint dripping of water in the shower and the soft hum of the razor’s vibrator, but other than that, it’s just me standing here in my shorts with lather on my face.