Author's Note: I have been away for hella long, I know! Sorry! Life just keeps getting in the way, ya know? Anywho, this is just a slice of life in the Jedi Knight's adventures of heroism and... tom foolery? I would have put this with my SWtOR Shorts series, but this doesn't really follow a prompt. That being said- this is still features my Jedi Knight, Eleya Shevani (Miraluka) and her stalwart crew of selfless (if not silly) individuals.
Enjoy!
::Antiquity::
"What would you be, if you weren't a Jedi?" Doc asks, leaning over the table and idly stirring his cup of ale. His eyes regard Kira curiously, and for once there does not seem to be any secondary motive in his inquiry.
Kira supposes to herself, with a snort, that there really is a first for everything.
"Well…" she starts slowly, sitting back in her seat and letting her eyes lift to the compartment's ceiling as she turns thoughtful. What would she have chosen to be?
"I think I would've been a great Senator," she decides after a moment, adding a slight nod to the end of her statement. She glances over at Doc, and her eyebrows lift when he gives her a disbelieving look.
"What?" she asks, perplexed. Doc snorts into his cup.
"I can't picture you sitting still long enough to participate in Senatorial meetings all day, or having the patience to deal with the press." Doc pauses. "At least, not without having battery and assault charges laid against you when you inevitably punch some unlucky sucker's face in."
Kira tries to glare at him, but can't find it within herself to do so. After all, even as she ducks her head sheepishly, she has to admit that his words aren't wrong.
"Maybe," she allows, dribbling on the table's surface with her fingers. Nibbling her lower lip idly, her eyes dart over to the far end of the compartment's mini-kitchen, where Scourge is standing next to the heater, waiting for his meal to be thoroughly cooked.
She holds back a chuckle when she notices how he is glaring at it, and his fingers twitch at the hilt of his lightsabre. Not that she really blames him- that heater seems temperamental and probably needs to be replaced at their next portside stop.
"What would you have chosen to be if you weren't a Sith?" she asks bluntly. Scourge doesn't even bother to turn around and grace them with a look.
"It would not matter," he says eventually. "If I could not be Sith, then my value to the Empire would be of little to no use at all."
And that seems to be all he has to say on the subject.
"Right… And on that bright note," Doc replies slowly, looking to Kira for a cue.
Fortunately, she doesn't quite need to come up with one because conveniently passing right by the open doorway of the compartment are Leya and Sgt. Rusk, conversing softly with each other. The Jedi Knight's tunic sleeves are rolled up to her shoulders, and her forehead and forearms are coated in a thin sheen of sweat.
Rusk looks in a similar manner, light sweat coating near his horns; and being devoid of a shirt, Kira and Doc can make out the slight flush of his upper torso.
The Jedi and soldier must be retiring from a bout of hand-to-hand combat practice. They have only begun engaging in sparring with one another in the last two Standard weeks or so, but both seem to enjoy it well enough.
For Leya, it is both a way to bond with the more stoic member of their team, as well as to work off her excess energy.
For Rusk… well, he always looks as if anything he does is a necessary duty.
"Master!" Kira calls out impulsively, even though the Miraluka has ceased being her actual Master for many months now. She watches Leya instinctively turn her face towards them, her mouth still partially open with whatever she'd been telling to Rusk.
Kira waves at them.
"Join us?" she asks, and Leya turns her face to Rusk. The soldier shakes his head, before giving Doc and Kira a polite wave and walking off. Leya changes direction and comes into the compartment, rolling her sleeves down to her elbows.
"I am thirsty enough to drink just about anything right now," she muses, clapping her hands together and moving over towards Scourge. His food is still heating up and by the looks of it, Kira muses, so is he.
As Leya passes by Doc, she reaches out to clasp him gently on the shoulder, to which he gives her a grateful nod. She gives Kira a warm smile, and then turns away once she is closer to her destination.
"There is some tea in the overhead cupboard," Doc says, trying to hold back a smirk and failing. Kira feels her own lips twitch.
They watch as Leya wrinkles her nose in distaste.
"Well, anything but that," Leya amends. It is no secret to anyone who knows the Jedi- and possibly to even some who don't- that Leya abhors tea in its myriad forms.
Leya steps smoothly next to Scourge, reaching around him for a cup. She places it on the far counter, and then goes to the cooler and pulls out a fresh water dispenser. As she pours the water into her cup, her back now to Scourge, she says rather casually over her shoulder, "Scourge?"
Kira and Doc can practically feel the sigh that wants to escape the Sith Pureblood.
"Yes, Eleya?" Scourge says, his eyes zeroing in on the heater and beginning to narrow.
"How is your meal coming along?"
Scourge straightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
"It is not coming along at all. In fact, I am not sure if it is even being heated," the words leave his mouth in a near snarl. The spite in his voice has Kira tensing up instinctively, and Doc feels his hair beginning to stand on end, wondering if the Sith Lord is going to go all Dark Side because of faulty kitchen appliances.
Leya simply nods to herself as if the irritated Sith has just confirmed her suspicions. She brings the cup of water to her lips, which seem to be fighting the urge to smile.
Just before taking a sip she replies, "Yes; it needs to be plugged in before it can do that."
The silence that follows her words is so thick that both Kira and Doc find themselves wishing they had butter knives. Scourge goes absolutely still, only the twitching of his tendrils giving him away.
"What?"
Leya calmly puts the dispenser back into the cooler, before turning to face the now glowering Sith Lord. She points at the heater.
"It's not plugged in."
Scourge looks at her, then at the heater, and then back to Leya. His mouth opens, and then closes. He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. Kira lowers her face into the crook of her arm to keep from bursting into laughter, and Doc takes a giant gulp of his ale to do the same.
Blissfully oblivious to Scourge's indignation and disbelief, as well as Doc and Kira's mirth, Leya moves over to stand right next to him.
"See here?" she says, moving the unit away from the wall. Doing so brings into view a long, silver cord that is, as Leya stated, unplugged. She moves to plug it into the wall where she has outfitted a portable energy outlet, and then gently shoves the unit back into its place.
She finishes up with pushing a series of buttons, and everyone watches as a small light blinks on, and then a soft hum fills the air. The heater is on.
"You're welcome," she says, tilting her face up to give him a genuine smile. She pats the bicep of his arm soothingly, before moving to join Doc and Kira at the table, leaving Scourge to stand there and look utterly confused.
"Why do you have such an offensively outdated heating system?" Scourge seethes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "No one uses cords anymore."
He is over three-hundred years old, and even as a child he hadn't known anyone who used such antiquated nonsense.
"I enjoy antiques," Leya replies, settling in the chair next to Kira. She gives a one-shouldered shrug. "I received that heater as a gift for saving a man on Tatooine from a sand demon. It was serendipitous that he happened to be an antique dealer."
Doc's eyebrows rise in disbelief.
"He gave you a stupid heater for saving his life from a sand demon?" he asks, his voice almost disgusted. He blinks stupidly, before another thought comes to him. "And you thought that it was a fair trade?"
He shakes his head, not sure if he is supposed to be amused, or worried, at Leya's sense of personal priority.
Or, rather, lack of it.
"… yes?" Leya says after a moment, her voice sounding more like a question than an answer. Everyone stares and Leya squirms in her seat, growing slightly uncomfortable.
Somewhat weakly, splaying out her hands as if in supplication, she adds, "It's an antique heater."
"Because that makes it so much better," Doc mumbles under his breath.
It is Kira's turn for raised eyebrows.
"You accepted a reward for helping someone?" Her voice is not accusing; in fact it is more aligned with awe. "Master, I didn't think you'd have it in you!"
"It wasn't a reward," Leya insists, sitting up straighter in her chair. Doc notices the way her slender fingers play along the rim of her cup, almost as if the Jedi Knight is unsettled. "He insisted I have it as a gift, once I'd mentioned my… affinity for antiques."
More silence follows her words, and Kira cannot resist.
"I thought Jedi aren't supposed to take bribes, gifts or rewards for helping people? Do you think the Council would approve?"
It is obvious Kira is only teasing, her voice light and conversational. Regardless, Leya brings her cup to her face to try to conceal it, but everyone can see how her cheeks flush a furious red.
"Who says they have to know?" she hedges softly, and even as Kira hoots in glee, Doc and Scourge look slightly stunned.
Though the whole concept of Leya receiving a gift for a service rendered is hardly problematic or of cause for concern, just the fact that the devout and loyal Jedi can even joke about doing something outside of her Order's tenants and Code is enough to thoroughly amaze her friends.
"I wish I had a recorder," Doc states, looking put out. "Who woulda thought…?"
"How about you care that I know this heater is outdated and useless?" Scourge demands. "What about my approval for appliances that are made in this century?"
Leya's earlier unease clears almost immediately at Scourge's words, and her shoulders relax. Kira watches this, noting to herself not for the first time, that the irascible Scourge- despite has affinity for butting heads with Leya and sometimes disagreeing with her simply for the sake of disagreeing –seems to offer the Jedi some measure of calm and camaraderie.
If Kira does not know any better, sometimes she will swear that there are even- if admittedly very small –hints of mutual enjoyment in the seemingly antagonistic banter that passes between Scourge and her former Master.
Kira will also be the first to deny that the two are actually outright friends, but… looking at the way they easily give each other their unwavering attention, sometimes at the expense of anyone else present, she concludes they are certainly comfortable to a degree with one another.
"It seems to be working quite well," Leya muses, her earlier discontent completely gone. She holds her cup up to Scourge, a wry grin splitting her lips wide. "Cheers,"
A vein throbs on Scourge's forehead.
The heater suddenly makes an angry hissing noise, the plug outlet sparks, and then the heater cuts off completely. Both of Kira's eyebrows lift.
"Does… that mean the food's done?"
Opening the heater, all of the occupants in the compartment wince as a thick cloud of black smoke wafts out. Scourge gingerly pulls out his meal, and everyone is allowed to witness how it is burned beyond the ability to be recognized. When the Pureblood slowly turns his livid gaze to Leya, both Kira and Doc back from the table slightly.
Leya has the good gracious to blush. She scratches at the side of her neck awkwardly.
"… oops?" she offers weakly.
Scourge swears.
END.