The next evening, Virya Vorian and her Mystery Man are shown to a booth on a private terrace of an exclusive, seaside restaurant. She wears a breezy, off-the-shoulder summer dress. He wears an all black long sleeve, long pants, and combat boots, despite the balmy weather. He is also blatantly carrying a blaster, which is strictly against restaurant rules, but nobody says a word. His upper face is covered by a half-mask, obscuring all features but his mouth and jaw. Even so, the maitre d' can feel his irritation when she leads them to the Vorian's private table.
"Is the usual table not to his liking?" the woman squeaks.
"No," Virya assures. "He's fine. This is fine. Thank you."
The maitre d' flees the radius of Mystery Man's obvious displeasure, closing the terrace door — a massive slab of glass and iron — behind her.
Once she's gone, Rey glances at Ben. "Is there a problem?"
"It's a circular booth," he says ominously.
Rey glances at the table, a solid slab of marble cut into a half circle. A plush booth hugs the table's curve, and an ornate balcony hugs the back of the booth.
"So? What's wrong with it?"
"It's impossible to secure."
"It's what?"
"If you sit on the end, you're exposed to the door. If you sit in the middle, you can't get out quickly if you need to. If I were trying to put us at a tactical disadvantage, I'd seat us here."
Oh by the Force, Ben - Rey swallows what she wants to say, instead squeezing out an, "…It's fine."
"It's not."
"You're not."
"I'll tell them to move us to-"
"To what? Somewhere different than 'the usual'? This is clearly their nicest table. Reserved for Vorians only. You think asking them to move us won't be a bit odd?"
Ben's silence is grim and stubborn, just like him.
Rey sighs. "Right. Look, I understand you're taking this very seriously but-" movement catches the corner of her eye. A waiter with an ice bucket is opening the door. Rey touches a hand to Ben's arm and smiles. She lays Virya's posh accent on as thickly as she can manage. "But we've discussed letting your paranoia get the best of you… remember, honey?"
Ben's jaw flexes.
"Why don't you sit in the middle?" Rey gestures for him to slide in first.
"If an armed person comes through the door-"
"Then you'll just flip the table and use it as a shield or something." Rey says, though she knows the table is a joined piece of stone, carved straight out of the floor. "You're a big, strong man. You'll think of something."
Ben looks like he has a thing or two to say about that. But with the waiter setting up the ice bucket, he doesn't have much choice. Instead he sets his jaw and lays a wide palm on Rey's waist. She twitches. She'd forgotten this dress was backless. Because fashion, the Spinster had said. As if that explained anything.
"You first," he says, sliding his holster around his waist so that his blaster is on the hip facing the entrance. "I'll handle the door."
"You're so insane," Rey mutters, low enough that only he can hear. Still, she slides into the booth all the same.
#
Rey spends five minutes with the menu, searching for something she can pronounce. As it turns out, she needn't have bothered. The next time the terrace door opens, a small task force of waitstaff sweep onto the veranda and lay out a spread that looks more like art than food. Charred octopus on a bed of cilantro, onions, and capers; brightly colored fish tartar arranged in a gradient of color, from purple-red to cream-yellow; clay pots of ginger scallion chicken; more vegetables than she has names for; and several abalone sea shells brimming with velvety caviar. Apparently, this is Virya's usual.
"Your companion has called to inform that he is running behind," the head waiter says as his crew sets out the meal. "He asks that you please start without him and says that he'll be here presently."
Beside her, Rey feels Ben go taught like a wire ready to snap. Their waiter feels it too, leaning slightly away from the table. Rey says a dismissive thank you and the waitstaff flee, sketching hasty bows before retreating back into the restaurant and closing the door behind them.
"It's probably nothing," Rey says, taking a sip of wine.
"It might be something."
"Your brooding is frightening the waitstaff."
"Good. Frightened people usually think twice before trying anything stupid."
The waitstaff do seem nervous. But Rey is willing to chalk that up to Ben's radiating bloody murder from his seat. She sighs.
The sunset starts in earnest, turning the sea to a dark wine color. Overhead, ropes of string of lights warm up, bathing their terrace in a soft glow. It's one of the most romantic settings Rey could have ever imagined. If either she or Ben hadn't been so busy awaiting for their mission to arrive, they might have noticed the mood.
Instead, Rey nurses her wine with impatience. Ben sits like some lion in wait, taking notice of every small movement or faint sound. They don't make much progress on the food.
She's thankful at least that his mask is less intense than the one he'd worn to the auction. The real Virya had insisted he wear something more social.
"It's a dinner, Lord Ren, not a duel. Relaxed men talk more than nervous ones. And you won't make him feel relaxed if you show up in full armor. At least wear something that allows the pretense of social eating."
The Spinster had produced a carbon fiber half-mask, one that concealed Ben's features from the nose up, leaving his mouth and jaw exposed.
Ben wears it grudgingly but, as far as Rey's concerned, it's a great improvement. Of course, she still hates to see him in a mask of any sort. Still wants to tear it away and be able to look at his eyes. But half a mask is better than a full one.
Ten silent minutes drag past. There's no sign of Bindu. Rey sips down her wine and pours another to spare the waitstaff from needing to venture out again. Despite telling Ben off for being paranoid, she starts to grow uneasy herself. Are they being set up? Has Bindu has leaked their meeting to the Inner Circle Murderer? Are she and Ben just sitting her like stupid, rich ducks? Rey shifts, wincing when her shoes scrape against the table leg.
"I hate these things," she mutters, glaring at the offending heels, strappy things studded with semi-precious stones. "Why does she subject herself to this?"
Looking over his shoulder, across the high street to a neighboring rooftop, Ben suddenly tenses. He whispers a swear.
Rey turns, ready to meet a threat, but she's halted by the firm press of Ben's mouth against her temple. Then by his arm wrapping around her bare shoulders. He pulls her close, until her side is flush with his and her shoulder is nooked in the hollow of his chest.
What. The. Force.
Every muscle in Rey's body locks up. Except for the one in her chest, which starts throwing itself against Rey's ribs as if they were prison bars. There's no way Ben doesn't feel it.
"Don't look," Ben murmurs. "But someone's photographing us."
Rey's body jolts back into her control. "Someone's what?" She tries to swivel and look across the balcony. But Ben's mouth presses firmly into her temple again, stopping her.
"What did i just say," he whispers on her skin.
"Sorry," Rey mutters. If her stupid heart would give it a rest she might be able to get a proper thought in.
Ben gives her about a half inch of personal space, but his arm stays firmly around her shoulders, his chest turned towards her like a tree orienting toward the sun. She knows he's actually just shielding her. But to any spectator, they just look like a couple having a mushy conversation.
"It's just a reporter," Ben says. "Probably."
"Probably?"
"Or someone hired by the Inner Circle to spy on you."
"Why would it be a reporter?"
"Virya Vorian on a date with her anonymous fiance? There isn't a tabloid in the solar system that wouldn't pay a fortune for those pictures."
Rey tries to wrap her head around the concept and largely fails. "I… just don't understand these people." Rey asks, taking up her wine again to give her hands something to do. "So, what do we do?"
"Play along." Ben gives her shoulders a squeeze that both mimes affection and impresses his command. "If you think you can manage it."
Rey slants him a dry look but Ben doesn't notice. He pretends to be looking at her, but even with his mask on, she can tell that his focus is on the periphery and their unannounced company across the way.
So Rey puts her hand on his jaw and kisses him. A peck really. Her lips land somewhere between his cheek and the corner of his mouth. She thinks she feels his breath hitch, and then the entirety of his attention snapping onto her. She smiles, overly sweet, and fights the brief urge to lift his mask and see what's in his eyes.
"Of course, I can. Honey."
#
When Bindu arrives, fifteen minutes late, he finds Virya encircled in the possessive embrace of her fiance-bodyguard-hit-man. He hesitates before stepping onto the veranda, seemingly to pluck up his courage.
Rey pretends not to notice. In fact, she makes a point of ignoring Bindu until he's standing right in front of them. It seems like a Virya thing to do. At the moment, the woman's cool, acidic attitude is not too far a stretch from what Rey is actually feeling.
"Oh. So I see you've decided to join us."
"My apologies," Bindu says, dipping his head and starting to slide into the opposite side of the booth. "I was delayed. I do hope I'm not interrupting?" He glances meaningfully at Ben's arm draped around her.
"Just putting a good show on your for photographer," Ben says, keeping his arm right where it is. "I take it from your arrival that he's gotten all the shots he needed?"
Bindu freezes half seated, then chuckles nervously and slides the rest of the way in. "So you noticed him, did you?"
"As if anyone could miss a lens that size."
"You'd be surprised."
"He's just lucky I didn't mistake him for a sniper and kill him on the spot."
"Funny you should mention that, because he is a man of many talents. Ex-military, in fact. And if he gets the idea that you've started threatening me, he may take an entirely different sort of shot."
Rey blinks at the threat. Not that he made one, but the fumbling nature of it. The slight tremor in his voice. This man is nervous. Along her side, the muscles of Ben's chest tense. But his reply to Bindu is cool. "Lucky then that I don't often threaten."
"No," Bindu sighs, helping himself to the octopus. "I imagine you just do. I'd bet you were ex-military yourself. I tried looking into it of course, but you're good at keeping secrets. Which is a great compliment coming from someone like me."
"I have all the relevant experience," Ben says in simple reply.
"That much is clear. If you don't mind me asking, how did you know the photographer was mine?"
"I didn't. You just told me."
"Hah," Bindu lets slip an unconvincing laugh. It seems more resigned than entertained. So does the way he plucks food for his plate, like a death row inmate grudgingly taking his last meal. "You know, I think I might almost like you. If you didn't keep putting hoops in the way of my job."
"Keep trying to get close to my fiance, and putting hoops in your way is my job."
Rey marvels at the ease with which Ben delivers that line. My fiance. For someone who wasn't very keen about their improvised engagement, he certainly takes to the guise well enough.
"I hope you understand," Bindu says. "Inside information is my livelihood. Those photographs will keep my pockets flush for the next quarter. If I were to have joined you, they'd have been worthless. Romantic-Dinner-Date sells. Business-Meeting with little, old me? Not so much."
"Don't worry, I understand," Ben says. "If I didn't, I'd have pretended to mistake him for a sniper and thrown my steak knife into his eye."
"And you could make that throw, could you?"
"Should we find out?"
"If you're both quite finished flirting with each other," Rey interrupts, squeezing Ben's hand around her shoulder. "Perhaps we get to business? We've already wasted enough time."
Bindu nods. "Of course. I admit my surprise at receiving your invitation. At the auction, you didn't seem overly compelled."
"Things change."
"Ah, yes. I understand you knew Rosshel from childhood. My condolences if you want them."
"I don't," Rey assures, hastily steering away from Virya's childhood. Bindu probably knew more about the subject than Rey herself. "What I do want is your information about the X-16 System. And I've decided to meet your price."
"Excellent." Bindu says, though less enthusiastically than she'd expected. "But may I ask what's changed your mind?"
"This game keeps getting deadlier," Rey says, choosing a lie that's closest to the truth. "We're just preparing to survive it."
"Wise," Bindu nods. "And of course, I'm still very interested in working with you. But I will need some assurance of payment and my personal safety after what happened with Rosshel."
Rey waits but Bindu doesn't offer any further explanation. He just stares at her, obviously tense.
"After what happened with Rosshel?" she nudges.
"Why. Um. Well, after you… reneged on him."
"After I what?" Rey blinks. "I didn't renege on anyone. He died."
"Well, yes. And there are several… rumors," Bindu says, choosing his words very carefully, "that you set off that explosion in order to keep your inheritance."
Rey stares blankly at Bindu, trying to absorb his meaning. "What are you saying? People think that I murdered Rosshel instead of paying him?"
"Yes." Bindu looks relieved that she's said it herself instead of forcing him to. "That's it precisely."
"That's ludicrous. Why would I set off an explosion I was standing on front of? I could have died along with him."
"I don't presume to know why you would or wouldn't do something like that," Bindu says quickly, glancing toward the door as he does. "But you did have your, er, fiance with you. He seems like a very capable sort. Perhaps he just bullied the blast into going round you. Hah."
It takes Rey a moment to comprehend Bindu's flat attempt at a joke. If he was trying to dissipate his own nerves, he fails miserably.
"Keep wasting our time," Ben growls, "and you'll find out just how capable I am."
"Hah." Again with that miserable shell of a laugh. "And you said you didn't threaten."
Bindu takes another sip of wine. His glance skitters again toward the door. Rey wonders if he really does think Virya might murder him during or after this meeting. That would explain him bringing a photographer who was also a sniper.
"Very well, jokes aside?" Bindu clears his throat. "You should have died in that box. But you didn't, implying either a complete miracle or else a very clever scheme on your part. I don't believe in miracles, which leaves only the scheme. So, how did you do it? Share that secret and I'll tell you about the X-16 System for free."
Rey fists her napkin under the table. She cannot, of course, tell Bindu how they survived the blast. Well, you see, I used the Force to shield us, nearly turning myself into a living bomb in the process. Because I'm not Virya Vorian at all but Rey Skywalker of the Jedi. Charmed to meet you.
Bindu takes a sip of wine. "Or you could not tell me. But then I and everyone else will continue to take that as further evidence that you were behind the explosion and Rosshel's murder."
"If she were," Ben says, his arm still wrapped around Rey. "I'd take a private meeting with her a little more seriously than you are right now."
"Oh I am taking this seriously. Extremely so. You think I endure this risk lightly?" Again that skittering glance toward the door. He is worried for his life, Rey is certain of it now. She feels a wiggle spot for leverage and decides to press.
"I can't share the secret you're asking after. But I can pay your previous price for the X-16 information. And if that information proves useful to me, if you prove to be useful, you can be assured that I will be quite motivated to keep you alive."
Ben's arm tightens around her. She ignores his silent warning, hoping this works.
Bindu considers this a moment, looking into the mouth of his wineglass like he might try drowning himself in it. "What are you saying? That you'll offer me protection? Or simply that you won't kill me once I tell you what you need to know."
"I'm saying if you prove useful, your continued survival would be in my best interest. Information is a valuable thing. But most valuable is survival. And I think I've proven that I'm very good at the latter. So do you want my help or not?"
Bindu does nothing for a moment. Then, with the look of a man leaping from a cliff, he extends his hand out to her. "Very well. We have a deal."
Rey barely keeps the grin off her face as she reaches across the table.
Three things happen then.
First, the string lights cut out, plunging them into darkness.
Second, something explodes in the harbor, bathing them in a flare of green and a rumbling aftershock like thunder. Fireworks, Rey realizes. Fireworks over the sea. She turns to stop Ben, whose already swearing, his arm shooting up off her shoulders, his body snapping to attention like a whip.
"Wait," Rey starts. "It's only-"
Third, the door flies open. A hive of armed soldiers swarm the terrace, blasters aimed at their table. "EVERYONE ON THE GROUND! NOW!"
Force damn it, Rey thinks, her view of their attackers suddenly blocked by Ben's broad back. There'll be no living with him after this.