Note: much love to sonsofdurin, Missy-loves-Waffles, trademe, brucejulie, SerendipityAEY, ShappycowMcSkittles, thejediqueen, and a guest for reviewing, and thanks to all who are reading. :)

CHAPTER FOUR:
cafuné

The next time Lisbet saw Ben was over two weeks later, in the marketplace on her way home from the weaving shop. She was carrying a bundle of fabric that Oona had pressed into her hands while grumbling that Lisbet's plain clothes were bad advertising.

"These pieces haven't sold in a quarter, anyway," she had sniffed, although Lisbet couldn't imagine why. One length was a beautiful floral print, and the other two were finely spun neutrals. Then she realized that it was a gift disguised as a mere favour. She and Gareth weren't quite destitute, but there was no way she could afford this quality of material for new clothes - and Oona knew that.

Why the old weaver maintained such a steady pretense of being an insufferable grump when she was actually kind and considerate was beyond Lisbet, but she had still played along and thanked Oona calmly, without the effusion that such a gift actually merited.

Now she held the precious cargo close to her chest as she wended through the marketplace, already planning what she could use it for. It was late afternoon and the market was mostly quiet, although there would be another rush later when the rest of town finished work for the day. Lisbet rounded a corner and paused, seeing Ben a little ways ahead of her.

The wind was so strong that it whipped his hair relentlessly into his eyes and across his face. He used both hands to scrape it off his forehead and stayed that way for a moment, apparently reluctant to release the wayward strands back into the wind. It made her secretly relieved that her own hair was braided in a long coil around her head.

"Blast it," she heard him growl.

"Are you growing it out?" Lisbet asked mildly, coming along beside him.

He glanced over at her, still holding the wild mop off his face. "Not by choice," he sighed. "I never had occasion to learn how to cut my own hair, so I must let it grow until I can tie it back. Until then, it's rather…. uncivilized."

"I could cut it for you," Lisbet blurted out before she could stop herself. "I trained as a hairdresser before I decided to pursue being a handmaiden. I cut my brother's hair. And I used to do hair for the entire household back home, even the Senator. What I mean is, I won't scalp you or - anyway." She ground her teeth together, just to stop rambling.

But he was looking at her like she had single-handedly brought rains and plenty back to the desert wastes of Tatooine. "That would be very kind of you," he replied, finally dropping his arms. Of course the wind whipped his hair right back into his face, and he closed his eyes for moment in a perfect picture of weary patience.

"My shears are at home," Lisbet said, strangely elated. She already thought that his hair had enormous potential - and besides, this was practically a mercy mission.

"I cannot pay you what it would be worth," he said, looking pained.

She waved away the notion. "Please don't even mention it. If anything, consider it payment for the sunblock. Which, as you can see, does wonders." She dramatically flourished a hand under her chin to highlight her unburnt skin.

He still hesitated, either through a sense of personal pride or for some other private reason. Then a particularly strong gust of wind buffeted against them, sending some of his hair into his mouth. He went dead behind the eyes as he dragged a hand through it to free himself. "At this point, a scalping seems preferable to this."

"Come on, then," she laughed. "I'm done with work today. It won't take long, if you're ready now."

"I have been ready for several months. May I carry your parcel?"

She almost refused at first, just out of long habit, but she caught herself. It was clear that accepting a favour did not sit easily with Ben, and anything he could do to balance the scales would make it a sweeter pill to swallow. She handed the bundle over. "Thank you."

"I should collect Rooh, if it's not too far out of the way," he said, tucking it under his arm.

Lisbet stuffed down a most unbecoming flare of heart-clenching something as she gestured them in the right direction. "Rooh?"

"My eopie," he replied, falling into step beside her. "The owners of the cantina kindly allow me to tether her outside while I conduct my business about town, but I don't like leaving her there any longer than necessary."

"We have a shed out back," Lisbet said, unaccountably relieved, "where my brother parks the speeder. He won't be home for a couple hours yet, and you're welcome to keep her there in the meantime."

They were passing by the cantina anyway as they spoke, and sure enough one of the tall, ridiculous animals native to Tatooine was placidly chewing her cud outside. Eopies were pretty common in Anchorhead both as beasts of burden and as a food source, but Lisbet had never had occasion to interact with one. She somewhat skittishly kept her distance when Ben went over to his pet.

The gawky creature snuffed the back of his neck as he untied her, long nose twitching against the folds of his dark hood. The action was so gentle that Lisbet softened a measure, but she still kept Ben between her and Rooh when he rejoined her, eopie in tow.

"She doesn't bite," he said wryly, noticing her apprehension.

"But they do spit," Lisbet countered.

"Rooh would never," Ben said, stroking a hand down the eopie's long neck. She returned the favour by gently butting him with her head, sniffling again along his shoulders. "I'm afraid her previous owners were most indulgent with treats," he explained. "She is convinced that I hide all manner of delicacies in my hood."

"Well, that's where I would stow them, if I had any," Lisbet said rationally.

"Perhaps you and Rooh have more in common than you originally thought," he replied with a completely straight face.

Lisbet almost stumbled over her own feet, since the foremost features that sprang to her mind were Rooh's hunched back and strikingly pale skin. She was spared from any attempt at a scathing rebuttal, however, by their arrival at her home.

It was still early enough in the day that their neighbors were either still away or working inside, which somehow was a relief. She and Gareth were already something of an oddity simply by virtue of being newcomers, and Ben was widely considered to be an irredeemably odd hermit - albeit a little too young (and attractive) for the title. Lisbet didn't mind being seen with him, but she absolutely dreaded the gossip that would follow.

There was a narrow walkway between their dwelling and the next, which led to the shed behind the house and a long emptiness of sand beyond. There was nowhere to tie Rooh's long reins out front, but it was safe enough in the back. Oona had said that a Tusken raid on the town itself hadn't happened in over a decade.

Lisbet eyed the eopie's wide girth, weighing it against the walkway. "Do you think she'll fit?" The only other alternative was to go all the way through the residential section to one of the wider gateways.

"We've passed through narrower straits in the Waste," Ben replied with a pat on Rooh's shoulder.

"Well, then, if you want to settle her in the shed, I'll meet you there," Lisbet said.

Now that it came down to it, she felt completely off-balance. Should she invite him in? There was was nowhere inside to cut hair, but she didn't want him to think her rude by keeping him on the doorstep. And what about tea? Shouldn't she at least offer him that? This was less than a social call and more than a business transaction - and therefore completely out of her realm of experience.

She covered her confusion by bolting inside.

Once out of his presence and into more familiar environs, she took a breath. This is just a haircut, she told herself sternly. Stop overthinking. Maybe she shouldn't laugh at Oona's reactions to him next time.

Heart rate slightly more moderate, Lisbet tucked Oona's gift into the chest at the foot of her bed for safekeeping and fished out her haircutting kit. It was one of the precious few things that she had retained from home, mostly because it would be irreplaceable here in the Outer Rim.

She picked up a chair on her way through the kitchen to the back door. It was clunky to fit it through the doorframe, especially with one of her hands already full. But she had barely gotten a half-breath into the awkward task before Ben was there from the outside to take the burden from her, murmuring "let me," as his hands closed around the backrest. It brought them very close together for a brief moment, and Lisbet surrendered the chair while firmly reminding herself to breathe.

Just then, Rooh sneezed rather explosively from where Ben had tied her reins outside the shed door, shaking her long neck to clear the clinging mucus from her nose.

Ben shot an apologetic glance at Lisbet. "Please excuse her appalling manners. It would seem my efforts to teach her how to behave in polite company have not had their desired effect."

"On the contrary," Lisbet said, eyeing the dangling string of snot that the eopie hadn't managed to dislodge. "It looks like you've taught her everything you know."

"I yield," Ben said with an exaggerated wince. "There is no recovery from such a blow."

She laughed. "Have a seat. Let's at least rid you of your uncivilized mop, even if your pet is beyond hope."

There was enough shelter between the house and the shed to provide a little privacy and to block the wind, which seemed to be dying down anyway. Ben swept off his cloak with the efficient grace of long practice. He tucked it into one of Rooh's saddlebags while Lisbet pretended to shift the chair into the best place, when in reality she was covertly studying him now that he wasn't quite so covered up.

His clothes were similar to what most people wore on Tatooine, but Lisbet's newly practiced eye could tell that the fabric was a finely-made weave. Otherwise he was fairly unremarkable - average height and build, and too many layers of clothing to guess much beyond that.

"I cannot thank you enough for this," he said as he docilely sat down with his back to her.

"You're practically doing me a favour," Lisbet replied, settling her cutting cape across his shoulders. His hair was so long that she had to lift it off his neck to snap the drape's closures. "There's only so much bad hair that I can see before drastic measures must be taken."

"I had no idea that my personal style was so offensive to you," he said wryly.

"I could barely stand to look at you," she assured him. This was much more familiar footing, and she could feel her equilibrium returning. She carded both hands into his hair, assessing how it had once been cut and deciding what she would do. "How long has it been since it was cut last?"

He paused for a moment, a silent reckoning. "Nine standard months, give or take," he replied at last, and she felt foolish for asking even though it was only to find out how much it had grown. Of course it must have been sometime before he lost his brother.

"How much do you want me to trim off?" she asked quickly to move the subject along.

"I leave that in your capable hands," he said.

Lisbet shifted from the sides to the top of his head, considering what his hair would do. Normally she preferred to do such a drastic change on wet hair, but that would be extravagant here on barren Tatooine. It would take longer to get a dry cut right, but there was nothing for it. Banishing - unsuccessfully - the flurry of nerves that always came the first time she worked on someone new, she picked up her shears and comb.

"Are you ready?" she asked once she was poised to begin, a vertical section of hair at his temple held between her second and third fingers. She always had to ask before cutting so much off.

"Yes," Ben replied tranquilly, and she sliced off the first length, trimming it quite short. "I already feel lighter," he said as the fallen strands tumbled into the sand.

There was a smattering of silver at his temples, but she could tell that the shorter style would make him look a little younger. Lisbet's apprehension disappeared now that the first snip was done. Sometimes a haircut could be a revelation, and there was no doubt in her mind that she was about to do real harm to Ben's title as an eccentric hermit.

She wanted to ask him more about his experience as a pilot - but that was irrevocably tangled up in the Clone War and the loss of his brother, which seemed insensitive to keep bringing up. And the silence between them felt easy, especially now that she had something to do with her hands. The first sun had begun its lazy descent toward the horizon, lengthening the faint double shadows and starting to surrender the worst of the day's heat. It was hours still until true nightfall, but this first glimmer of reprieve from the harsh daylight was more than welcome.

After a few moments' silence, Lisbet decided that she would rather just talk with him than be paralyzed by unasked questions. "I'm sorry I forced your hand the other day with Oona," she said, angling her shears so she could crop off the whorls at the nape of his neck.

He chuckled, a low rumbling purr in his chest that, absurdly, made her want to put a hand between his shoulderblades so that she could feel the resonance of it under her palm. "Don't apologize. I was being honest when I said that one never knows when a mending kit will be needed. Buying thread was long overdue."

"Is that what brought you into town today? A supply run?" she asked.

"Yes, I needed a part for my coolant unit," he replied. "I may be single-handedly keeping Tosche Station in business. It seems like something breaks every other day."

"You're in a joint business venture with me and Gareth, then," Lisbet said. "All the appliances in these older houses are held together with mesh-tape and monofilament."

"If they're held together at all," Ben murmured in agreement.

"I imagine living out in the Waste must be difficult," she ventured as she cross-checked what she had already cut by combing it in the opposite direction and trimming off any unevenness that appeared between the comb's teeth.

"It is, from a certain point of view," he said, looking down when she gently nudged his head in the direction she needed him to go. "But it's also very peaceful in its own way. I suppose the quiet does me good."

"What about the Sand People?" she asked. Gareth hadn't yet started his night shifts on guard duty at the farm, but he was due to soon. "It seems like no one can agree about how dangerous they actually are."

"I haven't seen any," Ben said softly, seeming to understand the concern that she had tried to keep hidden. "Though I've come across their tracks a time or two. Your brother works on one of the moisture farms out to the west, doesn't he?"

"Yes," she replied, but she wasn't ready to let him take control of the conversation yet. "Why don't you work on one of the farms? Solstice says her father is always short-handed."

"Who says I don't have other things to occupy my time?" Ben said, his tone dry. "You should have seen the state of my place when I bought it - it's entirely possible that the Jawas used it as a trash dump once. I'm still cleaning the place up."

"Do you ever trade with the Jawas? I've seen their Sandcrawlers on the horizon a few times, but they never come into town." By now she had finished the sides of his hair, and she tilted his head in a different angle so that she could blend his sideburns into his beard.

"I suspect that the shopkeepers here have some sort of agreement with them, to minimize business competition. The Jawas seem to favour more far-flung customers who don't have such easy access to merchandise. But to answer your question, I have not."

"Why?" Lisbet knew she was precariously toeing the line of sounding like an overly inquisitive child, but this was the most relaxed she had seen him. And surely Sand People and Jawas were a safe enough topic of conversation.

"Well - I don't think they know I'm there."

"I hope they figure it out before they dump more of their trash at your house," she grinned, letting him straighten his posture so she could start on the crown of his head.

"That's the last thing I need," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice even though she was standing behind him and couldn't see it. "Rooh would revolt. She was even more offended by the smell than I was."

"With a nose so long, who can blame her?"

"I do believe you're coming around to my eopie, after all."

"Don't give her any ideas," she retorted. "I'm not much of one for strays."

"Neither was I, once," Ben said, almost sotto voce, "but they do have a way of finding a way in."

He wasn't talking about Rooh anymore.

But before Lisbet could get her tongue under her to ask what he meant, Ben seemed to recollect himself. "I take it you didn't have any pets as a child?"

"No," she said slowly, wishing he hadn't changed the subject. "Hosnian Prime is an ecumenopolis. Domestic animals are discouraged, except for the very rich. Did you?"

"No. Although my father kept some very… interesting plants at times."

"Oh?" She perked up. Growing up an a planet that was almost entirely a city sprawl - and then moving to another planet that was the same, but on an even bigger scale - meant that vegetation was less a fact of life and more a treat.

"Pilots travel to a wide variety of systems," Ben said. "For a time, he had quite a collection of flora going."

"What did your mother think of that?" Ever since losing hers, Lisbet wanted to hear about everyone else's. What kind of woman married a pilot and raised two more? Was she still alive? Did she grieve her lost sons - one to death, the other to exile?

Ben paused.

"I never knew her," he answered finally, in a soft voice.

Lisbet frowned at her hands, working steadily through his hair. Either his mother had died while he was very young, or she went away before he could form any memories of her. Did Ben have no one left to miss him, then? Lisbet decided not to push him more about it. "I'm sorry," she said. "My mother died when I was eight years old. I can't imagine not knowing her at all."

"How did she pass?"

"A mistake," Lisbet said as she shifted around to stand in front of him so she could better reach the rest of his hair. "Later the authorities traced it to a ship of Trade Federation merchants that didn't clear the biocustom checks. They weren't sick themselves, but they were carriers of a synthvirus that was poison to many of us, and it caused an epidemic. My parents both died before they could finish the antidote."

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "That must have been very difficult. What became of you and your brother?"

"My mother's parents took us in. Grandpa went back to work to pay for our education, and Grandmama raised us." She smiled at the memory of them. "They were tough as septoids."

He must have noticed the past-tense, but he didn't press. "They sound like they were very good people."

"The best," she said simply. She didn't often talk about her family history like this. Maybe it was foolish, but she trusted him - even if Ben's evasive half-answers probably meant that he didn't quite trust her. She didn't mind; he was still grieving under that pleasant demeanor, and wounded animals guard their hearts more jealously than any other. As long as she didn't spook him, perhaps one day he would give her his confidence.

But for now, she pushed his forelock - much shorter now - out of his face, sweeping it back in the style she had always favoured for men. Looking at him now that his haircut was done, a faint spark of recognition made her frown. But that was next to impossible; Coruscant was home to over a trillion lifeforms, and the statistical odds of the two of them having met before were astronomical.

"There," she said as she unsnapped the cutting cape. "Good as new."

Ben stood, brushing a bit of fallen hair from his wide sleeve. "Thank you, Lisbet. You have been too kind."

"I'm only sorry my courtyard makes for such a poor barbershop, and that I have no mirror to show you your transformation." There was a mirror inside in the refresher, but that same paralysis from earlier made her pause on the cusp of offering him entry to the house.

"That's not necessary. I have no doubt that you did an excellent job. And now I hope you will not think me rude, but I should be going. I prefer not to travel openly through the Wastes at night, and the first sun will be setting soon."

"I hope I haven't kept you later than you intended," Lisbet said, suddenly sorry that he was going.

"Not at all," he said with a warm smile that sent a frisson of electricity straight into the pit of her belly. "You have done me a great kindness."

"Then I won't do you a disservice by delaying you any longer," she replied, returning his smile.

"Can I help you clean up?" He gestured to the chair.

"No, I can manage. You really should be going if you want to beat the suns home."

"Thank you again, Lisbet," he said, sketching her a half bow.

"It was my pleasure," she smiled. "You look much less unkempt now."

He glanced at her as he returned to Rooh and swept his cloak back over his shoulders. "Was that something of a compliment?"

"Well, you had better take care to be in an easily defensible location the next time you encounter Oona, in case you are besieged." Lisbet blinked innocently.

He cracked a full grin then, quickly looking away from her and toward Rooh as if abashed. "Good advice. She can be formidable."

"You see, I haven't done you a favour at all. It would seem that I've only made your life harder." She didn't give him time to disagree, figuring they could attempt to out-polite each other indefinitely. "Goodnight, Ben. Safe travels."

"Goodnight, Lisbet." He swung up easily into Rooh's saddle with her long reins in hand. The eopie twisted her head around to whiffle at Ben's dark boot, her liquid eyes softly inquisitive. He let her straighten out before guiding her in the proper direction, saying over his shoulder as Rooh carried him away, "Thank you again."

She just nodded her welcome, unable to keep a smile off her face at the way the pair of them treated each other. Lisbet still didn't especially like eopies, but she couldn't deny that Rooh had a sweetness about her.

Rooh's owner wasn't so bad, either.

cafuné, (v., Portuguese), the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love.

listen i'm a hairdresser by day and this chapter was a loooong time coming. please let me know what you think! :)

06.15.16