He was told she is a regular here, stops in right about now, and stays for a while unless some presumptuous pest decides she merits the wonder of his company. She fends for herself, doesn't need looking after as a rule. Before she's out the door, she flattens the sleemo, never giving his beating another thought. Her new bounty hunter buddies like this dive cantina in the undercity too, but Asajj likes it more. She likes drinking, but never gets drunk, doesn't like to. Her business associates aren't on hand tonight, and neither is she.
He can't help thinking she won't show tonight.
Anakin retrieved her curved hilt lightsabers from the traitorous Bariss Offee, thereby proving Ahsoka's innocence, but it is Obi-Wan who decided she must have them back. She deserves the return of her property, and he is more than anxious to do the honors. She, in all probability, may have concluded she would never see them again. Anakin wanted nothing to do with performing the thoughtful gesture. Delivering her lightsabers to her is more than a matter of fairness.
Obi-Wan has become increasingly aware that Asajj is metamorphosing, liberated from Dooku. The mystery and obfuscation shrouding her is less dense, Obi-Wan has sensed. He won't judge her; he's vowed not to. So, here he sits, waiting with a brain working overtime, and a heart beating rapturously in anticipation. Telling her to her face how much her truthfulness in the matter of clearing Ahsoka is appreciated excites him. The thought of her slender, willowy body, those sinewy legs, and shapely, lean arms of hers, rippling with power excites him too. She's an odd woman, with her unorthodox makeup and markings. How she once burned to kill him.
Now, he burns to be with her, craving her stimulating uniqueness. She's never boring; he longs to overindulge and wallow in her arcane aura. Our outmatched run-in with Maul and Opress on Raydonia…Asajj projecting her voice like a beacon aboard the Turtle tanker…ah, I remember it well. If it hadn't for her…she saved my life. Obi-Wan smiles wryly with eyes riveted to the cantina's entrance. Would she come here tonight? Or, could she be gracing another dimly-lit nightspot with her intoxicating presence?
No, tonight it is, he brightens, seeing her swagger in. His mind and heart shiver; she fills his field of vision, giving him pause. Her purr from across the room is deafening. Asajj spots him immediately, wasting no time sashaying over to his grubby obsidian-topped table. Many male eyes track the lithe female's every move. Dutifully, Kenobi rises, his gentlemanliness always his calling card.
"Good evening, my dear." It's undeniable; her soft curves customarily fascinate him as the long cloak slips from her delicate shoulders. She drapes the garment over the back of the nearest chair, taking her time about doing anything, sensing this attentive Jedi's deep scrutiny. Her attire is provocative, yet tasteful. Fatal attraction has never been so attractive. Such thoughts betray him.
Another wry smile graces Asajj's face. She luxuriates in his assessment as he grows warmer under his tunic. "Hmm…"
Visually tracing her sensuous curves leaves him a tad breathless. "A pleasure," Obi-Wan murmurs.
Breath leaves her as a coquettish sigh. "The pleasure is all mine…" She draws out the musicality of his name. "Ohhh-bi-Wan." She chuckles, playfully, enticingly. "I'm all yours." Electricity zips up her spine. Would she ever consider curling up with the poster boy for the Jedi Order? "The temple more boring than usual this evening?" She senses pliancy in him, yet he still is a puzzling unknown, never a plaything, exactly, but close enough. His showing up like this intrigues her. "What brings you to this den of inequity?" His true intentions elude her at the moment. But, his charm is powerful; he wields it as potently as he brandishes his lightsaber. Does he accept her? Or, loathe her? Does what he thinks, and feels matter?
"Sit, please," Obi-Wan invites. He watches her as she slinks into the chair, getting comfortable. Vixen overshadows his thoughts. Pure evil? Uncanny, and enticing. Temptress? Oh, most assuredly. Amusement tugs the corners of his mouth. "My dear, I'm here on a knight's errand."
"Is that so? What sort of errand?" She catches the cantina's bartender's eye, and the spindly human male, who walks with a limp, knows to bring her usual drink. "Oh, wait, you did say a knight's. You being that knight, I presume. You still are one, aren't you?" Asajj notices he has no drink.
Before saying anything more, he places her stolen, curved-hilt lightsabers on the table. "The returning of a favor." His voice smacks of rectification, going all out to extend an olive branch.
"Council-sanctioned?" Asajj challenges. She holds off asking him what he'll have to drink. Her perceptions of him are perpetually in motion. He's a cosmic puzzle, sitting at her right, and she's aware her feelings towards him are influx just as his are towards her.
"Yes. I wished to return them to you personally."
His reply causes the sharp arch of the Dathomirian's severe eyebrow. "Why? And why you?"
Obi-Wan is pulling on his beard when the barkeep presents himself at their table with her slick and spicy liquor. "What will you have?" Asajj asks Obi-Wan. "My treat."
To please her, because pleasing her isn't the worst idea he's ever had, Obi-Wan sociably says, "I'll have what she's having, if you please." He smiles at Asajj. "Thank you."
The barkeep has never been close to a Jedi, let alone ever served one. This is a man of distinction, he recognizes, hearing this clean man speak. "As you say, sir. Very good. Right away."
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like to pay for our drinks." Obi-Wan backs up his offer with sincerity shining in his eyes. He sees nothing wrong in his confession. "I've wanted to treat you to something for a very long time. I should have long before this."
Asajj gazes into those penetrating eyes, blue like the waters of Teth. She thinks to look away, but can't, has no desire to. This is the man she risked her life for, helping him stand his ground against Maul and Savage Opress. They'd been outmatched, but they'd fought valiantly, side-by-side as a formidable team. In that cockpit they'd traveled in, making their getaway, he'd revealed a side of himself she had vaguely glimpsed in turbulent dreams. "My drink is a start, then." She sounds as definite as when she makes a death threat.
"A start, yes." Kindly, he asks, "It's all right?"
Allowing herself to be beguiled, Asajj nods. "It's…interesting." Her smirk is more like a sanction. "Intentionally unexpected." His grin inspires hers. Warmth, emanating from him, cradles her.
Obi-Wan chuckles. "Yes, I suppose it is." His liquor comes, and he forks over the required credits. He takes his first sip; the sweetish alcohol simmers on his tongue, trickles down his throat. The strong drink isn't at all what he thought she prefers. "Hmm," he murmurs, and quickly sips more. It goes down smoothly, redoubling the warmth enveloping them.
"You don't drink much."
"You'd be surprised. I do a fair bit. This is extremely good." He relaxes, because he can. She wants him to. His gratification melds with hers. He swigs more. "Wonderful."
"I had a feeling you'd like it," Asajj purrs. "Thank you for returning these to me." She hefts her lightsabers, one in her right hand, one in her left. "Getting them back wasn't what I expected."
"The moment Anakin turned them over to the Council, I knew you must have them. They're rightfully yours. Only fair—only just." His raised voice, full of righteous fervor, draws a good deal of attention from reveling patrons. Never lowering his voice, Obi-Wan insists, "Your property discovered in Barriss Offee's apartment confirmed Ahsoka's innocence. You are the talk of highest regard amongst us." He pronounces her name with the utmost care. "Asajj." He reaches across the table for her hand. A shock of sensations passes between them once his envelops hers, an electrically-charged frisson heightens their feelings and perceptions. "Barris shamed us. Ahsoka reclaimed us. You vindicated us. Many, many thanks to you, Asajj Ventress." My darling.
You eloquent, honey-tongued Jedi, you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You return my weapons, buy my drink. Have you more surprises in store? Am I right about you? A rush of emotions flood her, tinging her pallid complexion a bluer fuchsia. All this acceptance is more heady than her drink, which she has barely touched. She battles for coherence. "Is this a roundabout invitation to join your merry band of Ashla-loving light siders?"
Obi-Wan stops breathing for half a second. His mind spins. "If you'd dare to consider it, I would bring it before the Council. You are a magnificent force to be reckoned with, and—" He must catch his breath, mesmerized by the way she looks at him with bewitching, haunted eyes. "I am going on, aren't I? It happens."
Her heart stalls for half a second. Flirting—Kenobi? Flirting with me? "Maybe I like hearing you delirious." Asajj laughs, full-throated, and enchanted. "I'm exploring bounty hunting. 'Getting into it,' as many offworlders spout. I'm thrilled by your vote of confidence, but, and let's be real about it, Kenobi, I don't think I'd fit in. I've lived in utter Darkness, reveled in it. I'm a far cry from making an ideal Jedi. Now, I'm rogue. For once in my life I choose. I determine what's best for me."
He gauges he's got her ear. "But not a far cry from knowing you are an honest person, free to choose what you're due. In no uncertain terms." He doesn't push. Maybe they could do what he wants with her on the hush-hush. Teaming up with you instead of being at odds with you would be phenomenal. Unofficial partners, unofficially troubleshooting this topsy-turvy galaxy. Together. What would it take to persuade you? He shivers when she voices the unanticipated.
"Is it what you want for me? Despite everything I've put you through?"
In all sincerity, Obi-Wan answers, "I want you to be happy." He raises his eyebrows. "Too objectionable?"
His affecting candor awakens Asajj's budding desire to lay herself bare. She, actually willing to open up as her solemnity invades Obi-Wan's cognition. "Do I deserve to be?" she presses, her gaze piercing.
"You deserve whatever satisfies you."
Her chuckling resonates deep within her throat as he gently squeezes her long hand with its long, tapered fingers. He possesses her hand; she allows him to. His hand caressing hers is molten, broad and rugged. Quickly, he is cradling her hand when his other hands joins in. Asajj acknowledges, "It's hard weathering these strange times. These dark, strange times. You know…that's what I said to the exonerated one. She said she never saw herself and me, doing anything together. I never saw us sitting here like this, drinking, laughing, feeling the Force rippling around us as though we are allies. You, with your hands on me like this. Indeed, these are strange times."
You feel it too, my Darling. This isn't a mistake. "We should be allies." He sits stunned, seeing Asajj's small smile blossom into a large one. "The Force runs deep with us," he remarks, smiling along with her. "Would you…" His heart bucks violently, pumping more blood to his brain, and impetus to his nerve. The Force strikes again, and again and again.
"Would I what?" Asajj sets up.
"Consider yourself my ally? Partner with me." He wants to say more, but his mouth and throat are bone dry, drier than when he took his first sip of the liquor. There is plenty left in his shot glass, so he downs every last drop. Less tongue-tied, Obi-Wan blurts, "Together, we're unstoppable."
"Tell that to Maul and Opress." She throws him an improbable look, thinking that he's talking off the top of his spinning head. The sense he thinks he's making falls far short. "Aren't you and Skywalker a team? You're dumping him?"
"Anakin is his own Jedi now. His mentoring is done. Don't get me wrong. We're on the best of terms, for the most part. He's going down a different path. Just as we all do, one day." Obi-Wan smirks, but isn't overdoing it. "Would our secretly pairing off be beneath you? Insulting? I contact you when I need you, and vice versa?" He considers aloud, "The Council being none the wiser."
"I'd be your dirty little secret, eh?" Asajj rolls her eyes; his earnest plea sounds flattering, but it's alarming, judging who is making it. Since when did Obi-Wan do anything behind the Council's back? Or, has he always been a rogue at heart? "In case you weren't listening. I'm a newly-minted bounty hunter."
"I could help with that," he insists. His vibe is—I won't take no for an answer. "Trust me."
"You've gone mad" She begins extricating her hand from Obi-Wan's hands. He doesn't surrender without a tussle.
Calm yourself—calm yourself—calm down. Obi-Wan breathes in a deep, noiseless breath, and quietly exhales. Adamant about not losing his temper, exposing just how susceptible he is to everything about her, he is swift to recognize: Nothing good ever comes of skimping on meditation. War, or no war. "I apologize."
"I'll consider it," Asajj nonchalantly submits.
Tsarina, snaps, crackles and pops in Obi-Wan's mind. "I'll take that as a maybe, which suffices. For now." He finishes his drink.
"Have another?" Asajj asks, contemplating his virile appeal. She is about to catch the barkeep's eye again.
"No, thank you. One will suffice."
"If I work with you, and that's a big if, you'd bounty hunt with me?"
"Fair is fair. Yes, of course." He gives her a meaningful look. "I really want this. Us."
She makes a strong effort to wrap her head around his offer of support. And something more? Asajj humphs; reminds herself to tone down her emotional impoverishment. He doesn't need to know you've fantasized about making an alliance with him for the longest. Her tone is as silky as Nubian synthsilk. "Us…" She snickers. "Be careful what you wish for. This is the new me. Is this the new you?"
"It's the new and improved me wanting the new and improved you to join me." Eager to have her one way or another, Obi-Wan leans his forearms on the table and outstretches his hands. "Making the galaxy a better place comes under various headings of fighting the fine fight. Down with villainy. I'm all in. Are you?" You don't have to go it alone. Or throw in with unsavory characters who'd sooner kill you instead of giving you your cut. If you haven't noticed, I worry about you. Isn't it obvious?
"You're a general, General. Won't you be spreading yourself far too thin?"
"I'll handle it. You have my word. You're not to worry."
Asajj coos her praise as both hands find the way back to Obi-Wans'. "You're nervy." He traps them like he'll never give them back. "I'm interested," she responds.
"As am I."
The confined battle they'd waged with the Dathomirian Zabraks, and their nearly having had their heads handed to them, flashes up in her mind again. One word comes to her mind. "Outmatched."
"The Force will sync us. We'll train until we're a well-greased machine."
"Train where?"
"Dearest, you pick." He kisses each succulent knuckle, and grins.
Where is all this emotion coming from? The Force? Saying the Force will sync them means a lot even if he off-balance, impetuous, and impossibly rash. Not his usual Jedi-to-the-core self, and it tantalizes her. A flash of pointy teeth is her smile. "I know a place."
Obi-Wan flashes his version of a gleaming, toothy smile. "Surprise me."
"I will." The amused look on Asajj's face sobers. "Why?"
He has been waiting for her to ask that. Attachment, Darling, but you know; I've come to care. It's irredeemably sentimental. Unacceptable, heretical, utterly out of place. And yet, here I am. Juggling my feelings. Rationalizing to the point of no return. Willing to follow your lead in the hopes of guiding you to a better place. All you've ever known is violence. I long to show you something finer. If you'll have me show you the way. About to answer, without hedging, he focuses on the alarmed look suddenly crossing Asajj's powder blue face. "What is it?"
Her lips barely moving, Asajj whispers with an uncharacteristic tremor, "My rival. He's made himself my sworn enemy. He must have followed me, hoping to eliminate his newest competition. Cad Bane." No sooner does she speak his name, the top bounty hunter spots her, draws his blaster, taking aim. A smile full of animus crests Asajj's lips. "Partner, our first training session?"
"You need not ask…" Obi-Wan decisively snaps his eyes from Bane to Asajj; the blueness of his ignited lightsaber deepens the hue of her flesh. While bolting into action to ignite her blades, he is deflecting the initial barrage of plasma energy. She avidly joins in, and with patrons scrambling for cover, the blasters versus lightsabers war is on. The Force-wielders, flawlessly in sync, press their advantage, and it isn't long before a bested Bane tears out of the cantina, no fool. He picked the wrong battle, and chose not to wind up dead.
"Outmatched?" Obi-Wan pats his lightsaber before reattaching it to his person. In a bold move, he pats Asajj's weapons as well, and she allows it, not whisking them away.
"No, although this time Bane is a puny coward who thinks he never misses." She lifts an eyebrow severely, but her amused smile offsets the disgruntled look on her face. "Maybe Coruscant isn't the safest place for me after all."
"The Undercity certainly isn't anyone's picnic."
"Would you smuggle me into the Temple?" she badgers, but gingerly sidling up to him, carefully caresses his cheek with her mouth. Against his silky beard, she murmurs, "My shields are strong. No one would find out. I'd make sure of that."
"I daresay you would." Perpetrating a small, mirthful laugh, Obi-Wan returns the favor by kissing her hand. "I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do. I can't have the likes of Bane or anyone who thinks it's open season on you, hunting you down—unacceptable." The wink he bestows is scintillating. "Not before we give our partnership a fair shake."
Asajj gently strokes his beard, having no idea what happens next. She's never felt so full of verve, grasping life by the horns, or in this case snagging one increasingly willful Jedi Knight by the hairs of his chinny-chin-chin.
"Come on, let's get out of here. I'll walk you ho…" As they gaze into each other's eyes, he changes his mind. "To my home," Obi-Wan insists.
Rogue "Are you serious?"
"Yes. Never more." He claims her waist. He fishes several credits from an inner pocket, forking them over to the barkeep. "For the mess." Close to Asajj's ear, he says, "Just to be on the safe side, let's go out the back way."
"Wise," she agrees, and likes his hand where it is, at the small of her back. "Our partnership, eh?"
As they head down a dim, dank passageway en route to the egress, he tells her, "Only if it suits you."
More eagerly than she intends, Asajj admits, "You suit me, Partner."
"Then, it's settled." Obi-Wan sounds humbled. "We're a team."
"Unofficially," she stipulates, without an edge couched in her pronouncement. When Asajj doesn't smirk, quintessential beauty suffuses her countenance. "Because if we're discovered, I'll say it was all my idea."
"You evil genius, you." He squeezes her waist, and she immediately squeezes his, and they head out into the lurid night of Coruscant's problematic Underworld.