"I'll take a Flameout. Extra on the flame. And the out."
"Tough guy after all this time, aren't we?"
"Hmm." A tiny smile was the only thing that Aeron offered to show that she was amused by the two's banter.
"I'll have a blossom wine, please," Parmida requested.
"Oooh, expensive," Yaakov scoffed.
"Well, excuse me!"
"You're not the only one who can judge."
"A hot chav, please," Aeron said quietly. Sitting between Parmida and Yaakov Netis, she could feel their hot stares of surprise on either side of her. Instead, Aeron focused on the dusty table in front of them.
Their waiter, a well-bodied humanoid with thick orange hair all over him, called out the order in Basic to the bartender. Wuher. Yaakov knew him well.
"All the drinks on the planet and you choose a hot chav?" Yaakov sighed.
"Old habits die hard," Aeron wheezed. "Anything potent wouldn't be appropriate. Please understand. It's how I grew up in the temple."
"Speaking of which," Parmida said, brushing a rare hair that was out of place behind her ear. "How wonderful for us to be united again after all this time." Aeron rather disliked the fact that her older sister wore Coruscant clothes- rather lavish, and her silvery hair up into a bun. Attracted too much attention. Not good in a cantina such as this.
"Yep," Yaakov agreed. "Good to see you kid. It's been, what? Sixty years?"
"Sixty-three, they took her when she was three."
"I am hardly a child," Aeron murmured, though it was a useless remark when delayed.
"Do you remember us?" Parmida asked with great interest.
"I'm afraid not. As you said, I was only three when I was removed from your- our -home. Assigned to the Katarn clan as a youngling." Aeron said.
"I remember you." Yaakov said. The aged man nodded thoughtfully. The bald spot on his head bobbed up and down. "Since Parmida was seven and I was six." It wasn't unlike him to state the obvious; as a married and settled-down moisture farmer, simplicity had become his nature.
A silence pounded on their ears as their table was quiet. Parmida did not hesitate to look intently at the band playing. All three of them greatly appreciated it when the orange-furred waiter returned with their drinks.
"Busy day," Yaakov noted.
Parmida had already began taking dainty sips of her blossom wine. Aeron was looking at Yaakov with a grin that was as close to mischievous as a self-exiled Jedi could get.
"Go on," Aeron encouraged.
Yaakov tipped the glass to his mouth and slowly let the liquid through his lips- the 'flame'. Immediately he removed the glass, a stunned look on his face. Aeron watched interestedly as the shudder passed through Yaakov's body- the frigid 'out'.
"Well done," Aeron said, beginning to drink her own drink. Parmida made a sniffling noise of disapproval.
"Really, Yaakov, the things you do to yourself. Why, once at a cantina he-"
But Aeron was looking away. Her brows were knitted and her blue eyes wide, looking intently at the bar stools at the center of the building.
"What are you-" Parmida turned, following Aeron's gaze. Parmida screamed in horror as a blue lightsaber was brought down on the arm of an ill-tempered Aqualish, who had been battering a fresh-faced blonde boy...