Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Feedback: If you'd be so kind as to leave some, I'll do my best to reply.

Notes: ROTS AU.

yellow 14: Oh, yes, Obi-Wan and Ventress. Always an interesting combination (I have actually read fanfics were I find it intriguing and very well done, though as a general rule I don't find it much in character).

Andaere: Yes, Obi-Wan may be being a bit lenient about the pride thing. But, you know, he so often is with Anakin. :) And, please, don't considered your review rambling. It's really a help to know what specific parts of a chapter people enjoyed.

charliebrown1234 : Yes, I liked the image of Ewan McGregor in a military uniform as well!

Tosharino: Oh, they've got something in the works… or they will after this chapter.

Rosabell: Well, Obi-Wan may just turn that uniform into good fortune after all. He's pretty resourceful. :)

Pronker:Dooku is pretty conflicted about just how dark he wants Obi-Wan to be, so his reaction is a bit complicated.

anakinpadmekenobi: Well, Obi-Wan does use the position his uniform puts him in, but not quite in the way that seems obvious.

not paranoid enough: I definitely agree about Anakin. Especially in Attack of the Clones, he was a brat. His character had a few likable traits, but they were far eclipsed by how spoiled and entitled he often acted. That's one thing I actually really like about the new Clone Wars animated series—I think his character is developed more fully, and we get a chance to see what made him likable. And, yes, the rebellion is definitely a factor!

Dawn of Time: I'm glad you decided to give it a chance! Haha, and, no, I've never written a book, but I'm incredibly flattered that you'd even entertain the idea that I could. I'd really like to some day, but I think I'll just do my best to survive my English major (and Political Study major) for the time being. :)

anakinpadmekenobi: Oh, yes, there's a pattern. And interesting about the choking. I would say it's just a use of the Force. It's the intention behind it that makes it light or dark.

Kenobi presents a respectable figure in a well-tailored military uniform. Smaller—a bit less broad in the shoulders than he looks in his Jedi garments—but the clean lines of black and gray cut him smartly. He looks rigid. Reliable. He always has been, but, in Dooku's mind, looking the part is nearly as important as actually filling it. With his uniform pressed and hair parted immaculately, Obi-Wan fulfills the former, and, as Dooku well knows, the latter as well.

"I would prefer that you do not misunderstand me," Dooku says, rising from his high-backed chair. It used to be Sidious's, just like everything in this office. Though, the garish décor had to go: he's had something more suitably understated installed. Sidious's taste was truly abhorrent.

Kenobi does not seem to appreciate the new brown of the walls, or the softer, more antiquated lighting that casts a refined glow. What Sidious had before—it was so harsh. Dooku much prefers a hint of nobility to a militaristic style, at least in his personal office, though Kenobi clearly disagrees.

Kenobi had glanced about only briefly upon entering, but the way his eyes had roved over the decorations—the expensive pieces of art and the heavy wooden furniture—had reeked of disapproval. He's a Jedi, and therefore used to very spartan living conditions. To him, most else will seem wasteful and superfluous.

"Forgive me," Kenobi says, inclining his head respectfully… or in a near perfect imitation of respect. Only the stiffness of his face gives him away. "I don't believe you have yet said anything that I might misunderstand."

Clever, and Dooku spares him a small smile for his trouble, but chooses to press on rather than address the words that are meant to be provocative and nothing more. "I would be a fool to put you in command of any sort of task force. That would be handing power to a man who would very much like to use it to orchestrate my downfall."

"Oh?" Half-amused, Kenobi tilts his head a few inches to the side. "Then the military attire is simply because everyone loves a man in uniform? Anakin's words—not mine."

Oh, how this man's irreverent sense of humor must have nearly driven Qui-Gon mad. "In a manner of speaking, Skywalker is right, I suppose."

"Well, then while I hate to disappoint, I request permission to don something far more comfortable."

Humorous. Truly, it is, at least in this moment, because Dooku has the upper hand and thus is at liberty to appreciate Kenobi's unique style of humor. "I'm afraid that won't be possible." There is little point in withholding information. Kenobi needs his assignment, after all. It's possible that he may find this one as abhorrent as the last. "While you will be in command of nothing, the public at large has no need of that knowledge."

No, Kenobi clearly does not approve. His face twists as though he's smelling something particularly fowl, reminding Dooku momentarily of a temperamental child. There isn't much about Obi-Wan Kenobi that draws associations with childhood, but as much as this man would like to deny it, he does possess vulnerabilities.

Dooku was witness to them the previous evening… just as he clearly saw his own.

Regrettably, he has been unsuccessful in resolving his intentions and emotions in regards to last night's mixture of success and… not failure, but perhaps setback. In one sense, things went very well: he has seen just what Kenobi will do to keep Skywalker safe; additionally, Kenobi did an excellent job of disposing of the Separatist Council. Quite good work. Dooku was very pleased.

On the other hand, his decision to show any sort of affection to Kenobi was a poor one. Padawan of his padawan or not, Kenobi dislikes him with a deep-rooted animosity that is somewhat surprising given his commitment to an order that preaches against such strong feeling. And while Dooku is… fond of this man, he has other priorities. Yes, he would consider it a pleasure to truly call Obi-Wan Kenobi an ally. This man is, after all, nearly his grandson. Is it so wrong that he would like to have some semblance of family? Kenobi is his only real chance at that—it is logical that he should feel a sort of positive emotion toward the man, much the same as he felt toward Qui-Gon.

However, his fondness for Kenobi cannot be a priority. He can indulge himself and keep Kenobi alive while still using him to serve other purposes, though he can do nothing more if it threatens to complicate his affairs. It's a compromise of sorts… and if Kenobi wishes to cooperate—well, then perhaps he can be more generous.

But he will arrange that cooperation later.

For now, he must be content to simply manipulate Kenobi into doing the job he wishes for him to do.

"A figurehead, then?" Kenobi asks, disdainful.

"You were a general of the Republic. A war hero. If General Obi-Wan Kenobi joins the Empire, others will be more inclined to accept what is being presented to them."

"Playing on respect? That's a new low, even for you." His eyes shimmer with barely concealed disgust. That sort of look seems strange on him, colder, as though the sense of rigidity that the military uniform projects is spreading to his emotions.

Dooku smiles thinly. "A speech has been prepared for you."

"I have stage fright," he deadpans. "It's why I never liked to speak to holonet reporters."

Kenobi truly needs to spend less time in the company of Skywalker. A comment of that nature is far too similar to something that boy would say. What a pleasure it would be to permanently remove the irritant who masquerades as the Chosen One. It's regrettable that Kenobi would object.

"Do not test me, Obi-Wan," he replies evenly, carefully keeping his emotions in check.

Something shifts—in the Force, in Kenobi's face—and when he looks up this time, his eyes seem different. The change isn't overt, but it still commands notice. Yes. Notice. Kenobi wants him to take note of whatever he's about to say.

"It's not a test," he tells Dooku quietly, reaching out and spreading his hands on Dooku's desk as he leans over, locking their gazes. "I don't need to test you. That would be pointless. I already know what you're capable of."

"Spoken as a true master. Quite a pity I'm the furthest thing from your padawan."

A small curl of his mouth, though not particularly amused, gives very little away. There's no laughter in his eyes. Dooku doesn't imagine there's much in his own, either. "You're right. You're nothing like Anakin. Anakin turned out quite well."

Oh? That's an interesting theory. "You're proud of his accomplishments, then?" he asks as he leans back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together and propping his wrists on the edge of his desk. "Mass murder? Deception? Betrayal?"

"And, yet, he's still firmly on the side of the light."

"I don't consider that success."

Kenobi still doesn't straighten up, and Dooku gets the sudden, sinking feeling that he's been had, even if only to some small degree. Kenobi looks far too pleased. "Really? I think you know how alone you are. I think you know just where the dark side has put you, and I believe that you regret that, but that you're too drunk on power to turn back. You've destroyed yourself, and to some degree, I suspect that you wish you hadn't. I think that's why you want me to join you. At the risk of being trite, I do have to say, it's true that misery loves company."

It's a willful presumption. He's killed men for less.

Clearly, last night was such a mistake. He shouldn't have been so kind. Kenobi will use it—is using it. However, even Dooku is unable to fix the past: best to capitalize on what he has now. Kenobi saw him vulnerable, and he's trying to play on it. Dooku knows what Kenobi is doing, and therefore it shouldn't be so difficult to turn it back on him.

What Kenobi is attempting—it is a clever strategy, though not one that's terribly original. Hit where an opponent is weakest. It truly is a bit of a disappointment that Kenobi cannot understand that Dooku himself has perfected this strategy under Sidious… who, ironically, had been implementing it on Kenobi's own apprentice. Poor Skywalker. Such a pawn.

"You confuse my sympathy for you—sympathy for your difficulties coping with your actions and the power of the darkness—with my own regret." How satisfying to see Kenobi startle, just a fraction. Truly, he should have seen the turnabout coming. Overlooking that is not up to his usual standards. "I care for you, Obi-Wan, because of who your master was. I would like for you to cooperate with me."

Always, when he interacts with Kenobi, it feels as though he's engaging in a game of dejarik. They match mental wit against mental wit, always anticipating each other's moves. Quite likely, this is why he respects Kenobi in his own right—the man is smart and quite capable. He's a good opponent... he'll make a good ally.

But if Dooku desires to win, he needs to plan what moves he will make far before the actual opportunity arises.

When Kenobi's fingers tighten on the desk, and he leans in a just a little more, eyes blazing, Dooku knows he failed to do that.

This round will go to Kenobi.

"I'm not Qui-Gon Jinn."

No. No, he is not. Strong-willed and too intelligent for his own good, yes, but not Qui-Gon Jinn. But, oh, he is such a reminder.

Respond, Dooku's mind says. Don't give Kenobi the satisfaction. But nothing comes, and he's left sitting in his chair, face blank and emotionless, staring up into Kenobi's confident one. Kenobi knows he's won this match, and his lips twitch, pushing as close to smug as he'll go right now.

"Where will I be giving my speech?" That's not acquiescence—it's a subtle dig. It's evidence that Kenobi has gained enough control to match Dooku's own with it. He's flaunting the fact that Dooku doesn't have the entire situation under his thumb.

Maybe this man isn't Qui-Gon Jinn.

But he's every bit as clever. Maybe even more so.

"In the Senate in an hour. Make it dramatic."

Polished boots clicking on the floor, Kenobi gives him a final, sharp nod, and turns on his heel. Click, click, click. Then, a quick pause at the door, a precise salute accompanied by a small smile—a subtle mockery of his position—before he's gone altogether.

Dooku is left sitting his chair, alone in his office once again.

And this time, all he can do is tilt his head back and laugh.

He's been beaten. It's not humorous in the least—but what is worth laughing over is just how much worthier that makes Kenobi in his eyes. The man defeats him, and Dooku only respects him that much more for it. A confident man will do that, he would argue. At least, he'll either be wise enough to kill off opponents who challenge him, or to force them to work for him. He'll do the later with Kenobi… and if Kenobi will not give in, then it will still be something of a prize to know that he has ultimately defeated the man. Either way, it was a good decision to keep Kenobi alive. It's been quite a long time since Dooku has enjoyed the company of another sentient this much.

"You'd be quite proud of your apprentice, Qui-Gon," he says to the empty room. "Quite proud, indeed. I thank you for training him well enough to serve my purposes."

Should he feel some guilt for taking a good life and twisting it to fit with what he wants? Perhaps, but he's been alone a long time. Kenobi was right in that, at least. He is lonely, and willing or not, Kenobi fills the space quite nicely, and he's a competent employee as well.

It would be a foolish notion to think otherwise. Of course he's competent. Qui-Gon trained him. Most would likely say it's foolish to feel as though he has some claim on Kenobi's skills merely because he trained the man who trained Kenobi, but he can't altogether deny that feeling. In some ways, he'd like to think he helped make Kenobi what he is. Whether or not that is true, he's too interested in him now to want to dispose of him.

"I do hope you taught him the good sense of acquiescing when he's hopelessly beat, Qui-Gon." He pauses then. Qui-Gon. This is no longer just a favor to him, the courtesy of letting the boy his padawan loved as a son live. Now, he's beginning to see what Qui-Gon cared for.

Such an asset, is young Obi-Wan. Bright, too. Worthy of being a part of Dooku's lineage.

And, for that, he will live.

"I'd thank you, you know, my old padawan" he tells the empty air, "if you were still here to hear it. But your apprentice fills the space quite nicely."

Obi-Wan is still not necessary. He is an indulgence, a tribute to the notion of a family Dooku will never quite have—that he never had, not even with Qui-Gon. But this notion will be enough. Obi-Wan is still dispensable, but so useful, and he fills the space.

He fills the space so well.

Yes, Kenobi will make a fine tribute to the part of Dooku that still cares. And in Kenobi, that part can rest.

To the rest of the world, he need not show it.

"At least we know he's not what he's going to appear to be on the holonet."

Grimacing—her head is throbbing—Padme nods and scrubs a hand over her forehead and down her cheek. The latest conversation between Dooku and Obi-Wan, overheard moments ago courtesy of the bug that was planted, is certainly not helping. "Did you expect anything less?"

"The report you gave about what happened on Utapau… was not encouraging."

She shouldn't be so annoyed with Bail for his lack of faith… but she is. If they can't have faith in their friends, what can they have faith in? "He's your friend too, Bail," she snaps. "You want to start doubting him? Fine. But I'm not going to."

Bail holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender, and immediately Padme feels sorry. That wasn't necessary. Bail is only thinking like a tactician. In this situation, it's the right way to think. They can't base tactics on personal relationships.

"I'm sorry."

He waves her off. "No need. We're all tired."

Tired. Yes, well, that's one word for it. She's not sleeping well, and that wasn't helped by the fact that she spent this morning curled over the toilet heaving. Morning sickness is not what she needs right now.

People haven't noticed yet. She's not showing much. But at four months, it won't be long. And what then? Her current job isn't going to allow her to hide her condition under elaborate styles of dress like she could have as a Senator.

There's so much to think about, and her head gives a particularly nasty throb just at the prospect. For now, she just can't think about the baby. For this moment, she has to be Padme Amidala, rebel leader.

"They were clever to get a tracker on Dooku," Bail says slowly, twirling his pen in between his fingers. "I wonder how they did it.

She just shrugs. "Hard to tell. Anakin probably built it."

"You know him well, yes?" He pauses then, watching her carefully. He's still twirling the pen, but it's obvious his attention is not even remotely on that mindless movement.

"Of course. We're friends. I know he's good at fixing things. Just like I'm sure you know things about Obi-Wan. Friends know things about each other."

He arches an eyebrow. "Padme, you're friends with Obi-Wan, too. The sort of relationship you have with him—with me,even—that's friendship. What you have with Anakin Skywalker…"

"I don't want to talk about this."

She can't lie. She just can't do it right now. She's too tired, and stressed, and worried, and her head hurts—

"I think no answer is answer enough."

"It's not your business."

He finally sets the pen aside. "How long, Padme?" Leaning forward, he stares over the table at her, waiting for the answer that he clearly knows he'll get if he keeps pushing.

There's no denying that. He will get an answer… and maybe it's because she just wants to tell so badly.

"Since Geonosis."

Apparently, that wasn't quite what he was expecting, but he hides it skillfully, with the exception of one small twitch of his eyebrows and a barely noticeable intake of breath. "Well," he says simply, like he can't think of anything else.

"Yes, well."

"Does Obi-Wan know?"

"Not until recently."

"Bet he took that well."

Not really, but he was too busy with the concept of her pregnancy to worry about the finer details. She's pretty certain he doesn't want to know much of the particulars, at least not beyond basic knowledge of how this happened right in front of his face. Willing blindness is a strength of his, though only when concerning Anakin, and the more she thinks about that, the more that she's certain it's an indication of how much he cares for her husband. He lets things go with Anakin that he'd never ignore with anyone else.

He's a good person, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Has he made mistakes? Yes, but who hasn't? It doesn't change what she knows: that he's a good man, a kind man, who cares in a way the Jedi would have wanted him to deny.

"Ask him yourself."

Bail shrugs. "Maybe over drinks. I'll bet he could use one… or five."

"So could I," she mutters, rubbing both her hands over her face. This headache just won't ease up.

"After we bring down Dooku, we'll all have a drink."

"If."

"When."

She envies him his optimism. Truly, she does. For once, though, she'd like to not be fighting for something so big. She had a glimpse of that with Anakin, a hope of nothing more complicated than a family and a good life with a man she loved. Some part of her had almost welcomed the prospect of being removed from the Senate once she had her children. She could have been a mother. Just a mother.

"We need to plan," she says, dropping her hands back to the table.

Maybe in another life she could have simply been a mother. Unfortunately, that life is not this one. She's not even going to have a life if they can't win this. Duty comes first.

Bail nods. "This information won't be much help. All it really tells us is that, as shaken as he was the last time you saw him, Obi-Wan is still solidly on our side. I suppose it also tells us that he dislikes wearing a military uniform, but I'm not sure that's really relevant."

"And it tells us that Anakin is alive," she adds softly. That's so important. Her heart had skipped when she'd heard Obi-Wan mention Anakin. Her husband is alive.

Unconsciously, she smoothes her hand over her stomach, slow and careful. Your daddy will come home. He's all right. He's still alive.

Unfortunately, Bail notices.

"Breha used to do that."

She drops her hand to her lap and glances back up at Bail. In an effort to cover, she pulls the folder on the table in front of her into her easy reach and begins to thumb through it. She's read it twice already, but that's irrelevant, since her eyes skim over the words without taking in a thing. "Pardon?"

"When she was pregnant. Before she miscarried. She'd run her hand over her stomach like that."

Right. Well. He already knows about her and Anakin. Might as well let him know about the baby too, yes? That's a hysterical thought. Not hysterical as in funny, but hysterical as in crazy. Maybe she's going crazy.

Just lovely.

"Oh, Padme," he sighs, and this time, he's the one running a hand over his face. "Does Anakin know?"

"I entrusted Obi-Wan with the pleasure of telling him."

"What?" Despite the circumstances, Bails laughs. He looks suitably shocked, and he just keeps laughing, ducking his head to the side and glancing away, like he can't believe what he's just heard. He probably can't. "Oh, Force, poor Obi-Wan."

"Personally, I pity Anakin the lecture he must have gotten."

"I'll bet," he answers, sobering quickly. "If there was a way to get him out of there, Padme—"

"Obi-Wan would probably already have done it."

"Skywalker couldn't have a better partner, Padme."

No, and Obi-Wan couldn't either. They'll take care of each other. She knows they will, but until she has her husband back in her arms, she can't relax, regardless of how well she knows they watch out for each other. It was that way during the war. It's that way now. "No," she agrees. "That's true. What he did to the Separatist Council—"

"Was something I'm guessing he was forced to do to insure that Anakin kept his head?"

"Yes."

"It's still a war crime, Padme. He… can't just do that."

The nerve of that. Maybe it's the fact that she hasn't slept, or maybe she's just genuinely this irritated, but the admittedly short fuse on her temper ignites. It flat-out immolates. "He did it to save my husband's life!" she snaps. How could he even suggest—?

"Yes." He's trying to stay calm. She can see it, but she doesn't want him to be calm. She wants this fight, because what he's saying—it boils her blood. "But it's still—"

"You want to try him for it, Bail?" she shouts, her voice rising. Furiously, she shoves her chair back and stands, slamming a palm down on the table. "Tell you what: I'll do up the paperwork for you. You sign. We'll charge Obi-Wan Kenobi as a war criminal, and we'll do it smiling. How about that?"

"Padme, that wasn't what I meant. You know that. You're tired, and worried—"

"WORRIED? I'M NEARLY HYSTERICAL!"

Her husband could die. His best friend—her friend—killed to keep him alive. She's pregnant. Their lives are all falling to pieces before them. It's all too much, and she really shouldn't admit to losing her control—though it's fairly obvious that she is—but at this point, she's past caring.

"I'm not suggesting we press charges."

"No." Of course not. Stating that Obi-Wan committed a war crime in no way suggests that. What in the galaxy was she thinking?

She takes a deep breath, smoothing out the lines of her dress. "Do what you want, Bail, but I will never betray Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is one secret that I'm keeping. You say you're his friend. Prove it."

"Padme—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"This isn't Anakin we're talking about."

That's a low blow. "No," she shoots back, hand on the back of her chair for balance. "He isn't. But you think it won't hurt my husband if the man who raised him gets brought to trial for murders committed to save him? You know what, never mind. Thanks to Dooku, Anakin is a convicted criminal, too. He and Obi-Wan can get a cell together."

Bail closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're not being reasonable."

"No," she replies simply. "No, I'm not. And you're being too reasonable."

"I'm not going to have him tried, Padme. You know that."

"Do I?"

"I think you do."

Her hand clenches on the back of the chair so tightly that she chips a nail. In one sense, Bail is right: she's tired and worried, and she's not handling this well. She does know that Bail won't have Obi-Wan prosecuted. She knows that, but she needs an outlet for everything she's been feeling, and the suggestion alone was enough to focus her anger on Bail. Is that fair? Probably not.

Quite frankly, she doesn't care.

"I'll be back later," she says icily, marching toward the door. There's always some satisfaction to be had in walking out on someone. "When I come back, we can listen to a mass murderer give a speech he doesn't believe."

"Padme—"

She shuts the door quickly with the express purpose of cutting off his words.

Let him talk to no one. She has nothing more to say to him. Obi-Wan might have done something very wrong, but how can she condemn him after what Anakin did the Tusken Raiders who killed his mother? She can't condemn either of them. They both did it for someone they loved.

Whether or not Bail understands that, she does.

And she will stand by both of them.

Obi-Wan absolutely abhors political functions. It is, as far as he can tell, a breeding ground for insincerity, where everyone has an ulterior motive, and they all are merely trying to advance their own interests. He can almost feel the self-seeking attitudes choking him.

He doesn't bother to try and make small talk. Dooku told him to come and make a speech. He did that. It was nauseating. He hated every moment of it. Thus, he will not exceed his commands and even make a passable effort at being polite.

He sips a drink instead. Is there some way he could smuggle some of this back to Anakin? He deserves a drink, too.

"You have better manners than this. I suggest you use them."

Obi-Wan scowls into his drink. There are over three hundred corrupt politicians in this room, and Dooku has to seek him out? Isn't his day bad enough already? Does Dooku really need to make it worse?

"You specified that I give a speech. Socializing with your minions was not a requirement."

"Master Kenobi, you are not a petty man, and this sort of behavior is decidedly petty."

"I suppose that compromises your theory then, doesn't it?"

Though displeasure reads clearly on Dooku's face, his composure stays intact, and he merely regards Obi-Wan evenly. Then, leaning forward, he plucks the drink out of Obi-Wan's hand and deposits it on a passing tray. "Do not test me, Obi-Wan."

"I already told you: I'm not testing. I know what you're capable of."

Dooku leans in a few inches closer, and in a low voice accented with threat, he murmurs, "I believe you understand the importance of doing a job completely. However, if you have changed your mind and feel that completeness is no longer necessary, we will test the theory on Skywalker. After all, he does not truly need that mechanical hand to function."

The moment Anakin is safely out of Dooku's grip, Obi-Wan is never going to do another thing this man wants… because, clearly, Anakin is the only leverage he's got. Of course, that poses a significant problem: because Anakin's well-being is a very solid motivator.

Without a word—a caustic comment hardly even seems worth the effort, since Dooku will have already derived too much pleasure from getting what he wants to be cut by anything Obi-Wan will say—Obi-Wan turns and heads in the direction of the closest person who also has the misfortune of being forced to wear a uniform of the Empire.

He can feel Dooku's satisfaction in the Force.

He ignores it.

Ten minutes later, Obi-Wan is seriously considering whether Anakin really does needthat hand. Would he be willing to function without it in order to keep Obi-Wan sane? Because this man with whom he's speaking—general something-or-another who has top security clearance to what he's practically describing as the afterlife in the Force itself—is reminding him quite clearly of why he loathes these political events.

It's truly a pity that Anakin and Padme couldn't be more forthcoming about their marriage. It would have been a pleasure to see Anakin try to survive accompanying her to one of these functions.

"Yes, and while the men I'm commanding are good, I intend to drill until they are the best. Never settle for less, you know. That's what I always say—"

What he always says? Oh, if only this man weren't saying anything. He's still fairly young—maybe about Obi-Wan's age—but there's a bloated quality to his face that makes him look over indulged. It's also possible that Obi-Wan is projecting based on his less-than-generous feeling toward this waste of human matter, or, ehem, man.

"With my clearance it shouldn't be too difficult to obtain the resources I need."

Yes, his clearance. Obi-Wan knows. He's made that quite clear. He's got clearance.

And, suddenly, that clicks.

This man has clearance.

"Yes," he says, smiling and crossing his arms as he studies the man in front of him. He hadn't been interested before, but now that this has become relevant, Obi-Wan snaps back into the form which war conditioned him into. Every little detail needs to be analyzed. There's a scuff on his shoe. He's in shape. He has a slight lisp. It might all be important. It's hard to tell. "Clearly, Dooku has entrusted quite a lot to you."

The man practically puffs out with pride. Obi-Wan knows this type: greedy, selfish men who love to gorge themselves on power. There's an advantage to be had in that: they're so eager to hear what they want, and so confident in their own ability, that they often overlook anything that might indicate the contrary.

"I like to think I've earned it."

"I imagine you had to work quite hard for your clearance card."

Take it out. Please, take it out.

And he does, just like Obi-Wan had hoped. This man can't resist the chance to gloat.

Like a spoiled child showing off a new toy, the man pulls out the card and holds it for Obi-Wan to see. Unfortunately, he's not nearly as important as he'd like to think, as Obi-Wan sees when the man hands him the card and he gets a look at it himself. The man is a nobody, by all accounts, in charge of a small military company within a larger legion. More than likely Dooku would have removed him from power within a few weeks once his incompetence became clear.

Because, clearly, he is incompetent.

No one with any sense would give a former Jedi access to his card. Of course, this man is probably foolish enough to believe that Obi-Wan is allowed to check something like that. Standard protocol for him to be checking these things, you know, since such an important figurehead is he.

"You never had a clearance card," Obi-Wan says quietly, waving his hand in front of the man's face.

The man's gaze slides out of focus. "I never had a clearance card."

"You never met me."

He nods, eyes blank and tone dull. "I never met you."

"You want to go have a few drinks now."

"I want to go have a few drinks now."

"Very good," he says, giving the man one last smile and beating a hasty retreat before the effects of his mind-trick settle enough to let the man return to reality. With any luck, the man will get himself drunk, Dooku will dismiss him, and therefore the man will never have the opportunity to discover that he would need clearance to operate as an administrator in Dooku's regime. Additionally, if that happens then he'll be more difficult to track down once Obi-Wan makes use of his card and Dooku needs to question its rightful owner.

Now, just to survive the rest of this function.

Then, he can discuss with Anakin how best to use the new opportunity that has been acquired.