"Gooddé da lodia," a Toydarian greeted, flapping his leathery little wings to pull himself out from behind his shop counter. The expression on his face as pleasant and friendly as he could make it. He was a a businessman after all, and he always welcomed customers. Unless, of course, they couldn't pay. "Hi chuba da naga?" he asked.

"Mi bosco de -" Obi-Wan started, only to stop and grab Jar-Jar's wrist before he could pick up the part he'd been looking at curiously. "What did I say before?" she demanded coolly.

"Sorry Mistress," Jar-Jar answered, cowed by the firm grip on his wrist and the warning look in her steely blue eyes.

"It's all chizk anyway," Obi-Wan grumbled as she rolled an assessing gaze around the shop, before setting her sights back on the Toydarian. "But out here even chizk has some value," she allowed.

"Cheespa bo coopa, cheeka," the Toydarian warned, his pleasant expression fading into an unhappy scowl.

"I'm no beeogola nechaska, Toydarian," Obi-Wan said firmly. "And I'm quite sure no one would miss a bit of kung like you," she added, letting her hand rest very deliberately on one of the blasters at her hips. "I don't see the point of killing if there's no profit involved," she admitted freely, "but I haven't decided yet if having a wanted poster on this karking poodoo of a planet would impact my work all that much."

The Toydarian backed up, the friendly smile back on his face, and his tone was a little desperate as he brought his hands up in a calming gesture.

"Now now, no need for that," he assured her hastily. "I'm sure I got just what you need out back. I'll give you a good price, Kwee-Kunee Murishani!" he insisted.

Obi-Wan smiled a smile that was both sweet and gave a hint of her canine teeth looking pointier than usual. "Smart," she said in soft approval.

"Peedunkee!" the Toydarian yelled out towards the back. "Hay lapa no ya!"

An urchin obediently came running into the shop from where he'd no doubt been working out the back. His grey clothes were tatty and worn, his dirty hair had been bleached by Tatooine's two suns, and his skin had a particular shade to it that lent credence to the idea that the kid didn't even know what a bath was, let alone ever used one. He still had all his puppy fat around his cheeks at least, though he was undoubtedly skinny beneath his loose rags, and his nose was button-ish, turned up at the world by genetics if not position his in life.

"Kava che copah?" Obi-Wan asked with a casually interested but clear Look at the little boy and a falsely callous tone to her voice. She could feel the untapped Force potential of the child. He was too old to be accepted for regular training at the Temple, but she had a feeling about the boy. One she wasn't sure about but was certain required investigation.

"He's not for sale, if you're just looking to drop your boy for a younger model," the Toydarian answered with a vaguely protective sneer.

Obi-Wan scoffed. "I only just got mah bukee sweets patogga properly trained. I'm not about to waste all that effort just to pick up a peedunkee I don't know from a chik youngee," she countered with a hint of derision. "But you clearly trust him out of your sight with your wares," she pointed out reasonably.

"I do at that," the Toydarian agreed. "Let me take you out back while we discuss business," he offered. "Watch the shop," he instructed the boy.

"I will know if either of you touch anything," Obi-Wan warned both Padme and Jar-Jar, though the warning was more for the Gungan than the human teen.

~oOo~

Huttese:

Gooddé da lodia! 'Good day to you!'

Hi chuba da naga? 'What do you want?'

Mi bosco de… 'I'm looking for…'

Chizk 'Junk'

Cheespa bo coopa 'better watch out'

Cheeka 'Woman'

Beeogola Nechaska 'Stupid little princess'

Kung 'Scum'

Karking 'derogatory modifier'

Poodoo 'Crap', usually bowdlerized where appropriate as 'fodder'

Kwee-Kunee 'Queen'

Murishani 'Bounty hunter'

Peedunkee 'Boy'

Hay lapa no ya! 'Come out of there!'

Kava che copah? 'How much for that item?'

Mah bukee 'My boy'

Chik youngee 'Dancing girl'

~oOo~

"Is she always like that?" the little boy asked.

"Mistress is... complicated," Padme answered delicately. In all honesty, he didn't know Obi-Wan even approaching well enough to be able to answer that question properly. She had been very nice when they were on the ship before though, and Padme was certain that she hadn't actually said anything cruel in all that strange language that he hadn't understood.

Padme spoke more than a couple of languages, but it seemed that the one that was prominent on this planet wasn't one that he'd familiarised himself with enough to really understand. Some of Obi-Wan's tone had gotten the general idea across, but that was no real substitute for knowing what was being said.

Padme wanted to change the subject, but Obi-Wan had warned him not to speak unless he was answering a question directly, or unless they were somewhere private that he could ask her questions without them being overheard.

"How did you wind up with her for an owner?" the child asked.

Padme blinked, the only thing that stopped his eyes from popping out of his head, he was sure. Did the kid really just ask him that? Yes, yes he had. What gave the boy the idea that Obi-Wan owned him? It would have to have been something that Obi-Wan said, or possibly even just that he'd called her 'Mistress'.

Padme decided to stick with something that could be qualified as a version of the truth. It would be easier to remember that way.

"I was chosen for her by a King," he answered at last. "Mistress saved his life."

"Is she a good mistress?" the child asked.

Padme thought about that. Thought about the little interaction he'd had with the female Jedi. "She has her moments," he offered at last. "But I've never met anybody like Mistress before," he admitted.

"She-sa ca-wazy!" Jar-Jar declared firmly.

"I heard that Jar-Jar!" Obi-Wan's voice echoed back to them from the rear of the shop.

"In a good way," Jar-Jar added hastily, head whipped around to stare out the back of the shop before he turned back to the boy and Padme. "She stare down the mouth of a colo fish an' not even blinkin'," he offered as an evidence to his claim.

"What's a colo fish?" the boy asked, confused and curious.

"It has teeth as big as Jar-Jar," Padme supplied, awed by this little tale. The Gungan didn't have enough deception in his whole body to tell a lie like that, which meant it was the truth. Padme certainly hadn't known that about the female Jedi. "Some twice as big," he added.

Out the back, Obi-Wan's haggling with the Toydarian had been reduced to the roll of the dice, just like her deal with the Rodian earlier. The bet was a bit dearer this time though. As well as the parts they needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan had talked the Toydarian into including the boy – and his mother – into the deal. Normally, he would object that what she was offering wasn't worth what she was demanding, but the Toydarian was acutely aware that his own life was on the line, and he'd rather like to live a bit longer.

If Obi-Wan lost the roll, then she'd have to give the grizzled little alien all the money from the weapon sales and Jar-Jar. She'd persuaded the Toydarian that the Gungan would bring him more money if he entered the foolish creature into the entertainment circuit, and that her human slave was trained very specifically to only answer to her now.

On the other hand, if she won the dice roll, she'd still have enough money left over from the transaction to buy the needed fuel and be able to go and buy a drink at the cantina while all four of 'her slaves' got the job of hauling the parts back to the ship, but the Toydarian would have a couple of the unmodified blasters to make up the price – leaving Padme with only one at his side, and Jar-Jar completely unarmed.

The Toydarian tested her dice, just as the Rodian had, to make sure they weren't loaded, and rolled them across the dirt.

Obi-Wan smirked. She was going to have some female company on that ship at last, and she didn't care if her Master kicked her up the behind for it. She had a feeling that as soon as he met that little boy with all that unrealised potential he'd forgive her.

"Eh, you win," the Toydarian recognised, a little unhappily, but it had been (to his knowledge) a fair roll of the dice, so he couldn't begrudge it unless he wanted to take the matter before the Hutts, and he knew they'd just test the dice and say he shouldn't make bets he wasn't willing to follow through on. Besides, to his knowledge there was absolutely nothing stopping the dangerous woman from blasting his head off and just taking what she wanted – whether she'd won the dice roll or not.

"Smeeleeya whao toupee upee," Obi-Wan replied, and counted out the coin she owed him, completely satisfied with the transaction if only because her hands no longer needed to hover near her blasters any more.

The Toydarian grunted and went to order his droids to get the parts Obi-Wan had bargained for, while Obi-Wan herself went to tell the child of his new status and collect the blasters she'd just 'lost' in the bet.

"I want you to go get your mother, whatever you and she call your own, and then go with Jar-Jar to our ship with the parts I just bought, mah bukee," she ordered the boy, a gentle hand on his head once she'd stripped Jar-Jar of his blaster, and Padme of one of his.

"Ma lorda?" the child asked, unsure.

"Uth laynuma," Obi-Wan agreed. "And we're getting off this rock as soon as we get the ship fixed. Tell your friends they can all explore a real starship if they'll help."

"Yipee! Bargon yanah coto da eetha!" the child cheered and ran off to fetch his mother.

"Mistress?" Padme asked, his voice soft with confusion, his question tentative, unsure, and so not totally given voice.

"Don't tell me you're okay with leaving the kid here any more than I am," Obi-Wan answered out of the corner of her mouth, her voice a low warning to not ask any more questions about that, at least for now.

Padme bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement, since he didn't really know what he could really say to that.

"Jar-Jar, I want you to wait here for the boy to come back," Obi-Wan ordered, and slapped her data pad against the Gungan's chest. "Make him check that everything on that list is in the pile of junk the Toydaran gives us."

"Where you-sa goin'?" the Gungan asked, as his hands automatically wrapped around the object thrust at his person.

"To get a drink," Obi-Wan answered, then slid her blue eyes across to Padme. "And to expand this one's an education," she added.

~oOo~

Huttese:

Smeeleeya whao toupee upee. 'Smile when you say that.'

Ma lorda 'My lord' (Lorda also means 'boss' and 'master')

Uth laynuma. 'That's the idea.'

Bargon yanah coto da eetha. 'You're the best.'

~oOo~

"Jawa juice," Obi-Wan ordered succinctly as she past by the bar of the cantina on her way to a private booth. Before she'd even completed the action of sitting down on her chosen seat, she pulled Padme down to sit on her lap. "This way, you can mutter your questions into my ear, and I can answer them back into yours, and no one will look twice," she explained softly to the young boy before he could form a protest of any kind.

"It still feels inappropriate," Padme muttered back.

"It should," Obi-Wan agreed. "I've got ten years on you. It won't feel appropriate until you're out of your teens at least. Even then, I'll still be a Jedi," she pointed out.

"And Jedi can't have attachments," Padme recalled.

Obi-Wan shrugged carelessly. "The Green Jedi on Corellia do, much to the frustration of the Council, but they make it work, so no one can really get away with saying anything for long without looking like idiots. Master Mundi has five wives due to the needs of his race and society, though any time he's asked about it he says it difficult balancing between caring about them all and not getting attached," she replied. "But in general, yes, attachment is strongly discouraged among us more common Jedi."

A young, scarred, orange-skinned Twi'lek girl delivered Obi-Wan's Jawa juice then, and would have quickly moved on to deliver a plate of food to another booth except that Obi-Wan gently grabbed her wrist.

"Girl, this one is yours. Hide it away," she said firmly, and slipped one of her small coins into the girl's hand before she released her to go on her way.

"Thank you," the girl whispered, and shoved the coin into her sock as she walked away.

Obi-Wan reached across the teenager she was holding in her lap to pick up the glass, and welcomed the bitter, alcoholic burn of the cold drink in this heat – heat which was dry and gritty outside, but inside the cantina it was muggy with the sweat of many bodies in close proximity.

"What's a Jawa?" Padme asked, watching the cup.

"One of the native tribes of Tatooine that fall under the category of 'scavengers'," Obi-Wan answered.

"That isn't made from Jawas, is it?" Padme asked, wide-eyed and horrified by the very idea.

"No, and you can't have any either," Obi-Wan said with a hint of a smirk as she set her glass back on the table. "But tell me, is Padme a common name on Naboo?" she asked.

"I'm named after a great-aunt, I think," Padme admitted a little ruefully. "It's a gender-neutral name, but not terribly popular with either. Why?"

"Because in the mission request that Chancellor Valorum gave to the Jedi Council, the one to mediate and force a settlement between the Trade Federation and Naboo, it listed King Padme Amidala as the person we were to contact on Naboo," Obi-Wan whispered in the teenager's ear, and felt the teen go completely rigid in her lap.

Not that he'd exactly been boneless before.

"I don't suppose you'd care to talk about that?" she murmured gently.

"You suppose right," Padme answered shortly.

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, and took the reply as the confirmation it inadvertently was. "Would you like to learn some of the Huttese I used today?" she offered, drawing the conversation to safer topics, such as educating the young King of Naboo (out of his robes of office though he may be) about the planet and its inhabitants.

"Please," Padme requested eagerly.

Before Obi-Wan could actually begin the lesson though, her comm. link gave a chirp that insisted she answer it.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Obi-Wan, there's a sandstorm coming up on the horizon," Qui-Gon's voice announced. "And Captain Panaka wants you to explain why one little boy says that he and his mother are coming with us, though the King and his attendants are all quite entertained by him and the other children. Please get back before the sand storm hits," he elder Jedi requested.

"On our way," Obi-Wan promised, then slammed back the rest of her Jawa juice in one gulp and urged Padme off her lap. She tossed the coin for the drink to the barkeep and headed for the exit. Fortunately, the cantina was on the outskirts of the space port in the same direction as the ship, so they didn't have as far to go as they would have if they'd still been back at the junk shop. They'd still have to go quickly though.

The ship had just come into sight when the very front of the sandstorm reached them. It half blinded the two of them, and the force of the wind threatened to push them right off their feet, but with an arm up to shield their faces and deliberate, slow steps, they eventually made it to the ramp of the ship. Qui-Gon was waiting for them, and incredibly relieved to see his Padawan returned, safe and sound.

"Trust," Obi-Wan grunted as her Master folded her into his arms and held her tightly to him. "I'm really getting a sense of just how much you trust me to take care of myself. Dad."

"Why didn't you come straight back?" Qui-Gon demanded, letting her out of his embrace so that he could hold her by the shoulders at length from himself and look her in the eye.

"Because I still had some of the local coin, and I wanted a Jawa juice," Obi-Wan answered freely, not at all caring that her Master didn't like it when she drank. It wasn't like she ever drank a lot. One glass of Jawa juice was enough for her at a time, generally speaking. Siri and Quinlan often had drinking contests when they went out, and Bant had been banned from challenging them because she never lost. "Besides, the King's attendant hadn't seen all that much of the place yet, and he was sent because the King wanted to know more about the planet."

Qui-Gon very nearly growled at her for that.

"Go," he said instead. "Wash the sand off and get dressed. You have some explaining to do when you're presentable though," he warned, "and not just to me."

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan deferred, then took one last thing out of her pocket. "That's the control for the transmitters in the two slaves I sent back here," she said as she pressed it into one of her Master's lage hands. "Wouldn't want them to blow up on us."

Qui-Gon sighed as he turned the device over in his hands. "That boy is quite the find," he admitted softly.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "He's not Jedi material," she said as she began to walk past her Master towards the refresher, "but I'll wager he could be the best pilot in the galaxy, given the chance, if the way his old master talked about him is anything to go by. Definitely not a Jedi though."

"Why do you say he isn't Jedi material, my Padawan?" the Master asked, confused.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "He's too old," she answered simply, "and you know it. The Council won't allow him to be trained in the Jedi ways, no matter how much he overflows with untrained and untapped Force Potential. Besides, he was raised to this age by a loving mother, and as a slave at that. He'd rebel against the strictures of the Order before too long," she pointed out, then with a last wave she excused herself from her Master to go get cleaned up.

Qui-Gon heaved a sad sigh as he watched his student go, hips swaying with their adornment of blasters, and the skin of her shoulders slightly more pink than it was before she left the ship in the morning. A shifting shape off to his side reminded the Master Jedi that the King's attendant was still standing there.

"When you grow up and become interested in women," Qui-Gon said to the boy, "remember that they are always right," he advised. "Or at least, they will be right more often than you will be, and Obi-Wan has the Force on her side as well as the usual 'female intuition' that those without the Force frequently claim to possess."

Padme bit down on a chuckle as he recalled his mother and his older sister both displaying that famed 'female intuition'. To be Force-sensitive on top of that? That was a slightly intimidating thought – and a humorous one, when he thought of that intuition making someone else's life harder, rather than his own.

Captain Panaka jogged up to them from another part of the ship. "We're receiving a transmission from home," he informed the Jedi and the teenager both.

The group hurried to the ship's throne room to view the message. It was not good news.