***
"I still think those capers tasted a bit strange," Jag insisted, "You shouldn't have finished them all."
"Relax, Jag. You're overreacting," Jaina assured him. Letting him lead her by the hand, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the brisk Coruscanti night.
"Whose couch will you be laying on for a week when you catch some virus?"
Her eyes snapped open and and she started to pull her hand from his. "Well, if you don't want me there-"
"That's not what I was trying to say," he corrected himself, tightening his grip on her hand and using it to draw her closer.
She simply arched a brow at him, waiting.
Jag's eyes went up slightly. The beginning of an eye-roll - he never got through the whole thing. She got the distinct feeling that despite giving in to several of the bad habits he had learned from her, he was trying to fight this one.
"You're welcome on my couch whenever you please. In fact, you're even more welcome in my bed. That doesn't change the fact that there's no reason to get sick unnecessarily."
"Jedi, remember?" She asked, tapping her temple. "There was nothing wrong with those capers, but, even if there was, they wouldn't be enough to give me so much as a stomach ache."
"Doesn't that fall under trivial use of the Force?" He pointed out as they started to walk again.
"Keeping myself healthy? No."
"No," he clarified, "intentionally eating spoiled food just because you know your Jedi training will help you avoid repercussions."
"Oh, that. Well, it's good to have practice."
"Naturally," he deadpanned, getting a little further in the eye-rolling process before he remembered to stop himself.
"Anyways, we still have the rest of the night to-"
"Hey!" An inebriated man called cheerfully as he fell into Jag. Jaina looked him up and down, taking in his wide-brimmed hat, flashy poncho, and big mustache. For some reason he looked familiar.
"Junior! Fancy seeing youhere! And the little lady!" Another man, similarly dressed, also somewhat familiar. He leaned over to prod at Jaina, and Jag smacked at him as she leaned away. "You and your Dad always did know how to pick'em, little Fel, I'll give you that-"
"Uncle," Jag called to an approaching figure, his voice half relief and half consternation. "What are you all doing?"
That was when Jaina realized that there were two more heavily mustached and poncho-wearing men coming toward them, that one of them was Wedge Antilles, and that the other was Wes Janson. And then it all clicked.
Jaina groaned. Suddenly she recognized the other two men who were hugging Jag and trying to poke her ribs.
"Face, Myn," she acknowledged as she pushed hands away from her red dress. And Jag had been so happy with it at the start of the evening. "Nice Spirit Day costumes."
"Complete with ridiculous levels of drunkenness," Jag muttered under his breath as Jaina tried not to laugh.
"I'm not Face!" Loran protested enthusiastically, "I'm Dod!"
"I'm Lod!" Myn chimed in as he pinched at her rib. She wasn't entirely sure, as Jag was employing his patented Fel Glare Face, but she thought that Myn might have been aiming a bit higher.
Of course, that would have meant that a Wraith had missed his mark.
No, she decided, Myn had been aiming for that rib and Jag's Fel Glare Face was no longer effective. She would have fun teasing him about that later.
"And I'm Fod!" Wedge called as he and Wes finally made it to the couple. His proclamation was followed by a round of 'yep's' and head-nodding.
Jag was already exasperated, she could tell. But she thought it was rather funny.
"And who are you?" He asked Wes, "Nod?"
"Nod?" Wes asked, brightening considerably, "Hey, that's a good one, isn't it? Should I go with 'Nod?'"
"Yep."
"Yep."
"Yep."
Jaina held in a laugh, mostly because she could feel Jag's internal groan.
"You look pretty, little lady," Face said, leaning around Jag and Myn to see her.
"Pretty enough to marry," Myn added, nodding profusely and attempting to take another swipe at her. She might have been imagining it, but she thought that Jag had swatted him away quite a bit harder that time-
"Don't do it!" Wes screeched, "Her dad's Han Solo!"
With the exception of Jag, a look of pure terror crossed the faces of all men present. Once again, Jaina found herself holding in a laugh.
"Run for it!" Myn yelled, taking off down the street.
The other three looked around at each other for barely a second longer.
"Should we go after him?" Wedge asked, not sounding excited about the idea.
"Yep," Loran nodded.
"Yep," Wes agreed.
"Yep," Jag chimed him, probably hoping to get them going faster. Jaina couldn't help laughing at that.
But it worked, and in seconds they had all taken off down the street after Myn, who hadn't gotten far before passing out on the walkway.
Jaina and Jag simply stood there for a moment, staring down the street after them. Finally, Jag's annoyance was too much for him.
"Were the Wraiths just...hittingon you?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"And did Wes Jason just stopthem?"
"I think so."
Jag was silent for a moment. Then, "Strange."
"Very," Jaina agreed. "You should call them a cab, though."
"I don't think so."
"But if anyone manages to snap their picture the media circus will-"
"Be quite amusing," Jag finished, surprising her.
"What?" She asked, the confusion evident on her features.
"I know my uncle," he explained. "There's no way they put those costumes on beforegetting drunk."
Jaina laughed at his evil smirk. "Good point. Will you be delivering the rags yourself in the morning?"
"I'll bring them some caf too," he defended himself, the smirk turning into a malicious grin.
"Oh, well as long as there's caf, I'll come too."
"Excellent," he turned to her, the malice replaced with mischief. "You can stay at my place so we can be up bright and early."
Jaina grinned back. "You're cruel tonight, Jag."
"Strange, isn't it?"
"Very."
