Nila awkwardly adjusted the strap of her dress for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes. The first ordeal had been the stairs. Who knew that the Jedi Temple harboured such a dramatic amount of steps? It had taken a moment – a painful moment -- to figure out how to manage high heels combined with the extravagant length of that stupid gown with a semblance of dignity.

The actual opening ceremony of the Sofica's affiliate was scheduled later in the evening but the Family's Advisors had requested to meet Kenobi before in order to discuss the right to collect information on the Clan's territory.

The young woman morosely surveyed the façade behind which the party was to be launched. What a disappointment. To look at the soulless building standing like a wart in this cheap neighbourhood, it seemed that the Family's business had undergone a drastic spill. Where was the arrogant opulence of the Saarliaban bar where the Family used to receive?

Nila looked down at her own shabby attire and sighed. She was underdressed. The outdated shape of her outfit hung pitifully on her body and it would not go unnoticed.

While the bodyguards checked them for weapons, Kenobi glanced at his partner as she fumbled again with her dress. It was at least one size too big and drowned her body in a sea of fabric. He could guess how humiliated she felt, facing the Clan again so little at her advantage. Yet it was better this way, she had insisted to come to back him up in case of serious problem but on the other hand, she could not afford to be noticed during the night. Santillian's death warrant for Nila was still effective. As they were free to go, he reached for her hand and pried it out of a rebellious fold.

"Stop it. You're nervous and it shows."

Curter than he had meant… He moved to pat her shoulder encouragingly but Nila mistook it for a sign to move forward and started to walk away. Kenobi's hand fell back at his side.

They stepped into the surprisingly luxurious hall of this restaurant which was really not much to look at from outside.

"Time to see which side Eru truly favours," he stated as they waited for one of the busy waiters the show them in.

Nila's confidence faltered when the possibility hit her. She had not questioned the mobster's sincerity when he had shown up after four years of separation since it had never been otherwise between them. Their strange friendship -- for lack of better word -- had started during her Padawan years. As far as she could remember, he had never failed her although they belonged to two opposite sides of the law.

And this animal had his share of interest in the bargain too. Nila was not fooled: as long as the Jedi would be on the Scroll trail, Eru knew they would not intrude in the Family's business, nor would the Republic…

He had thus no interest to betray them.

Not yet at least.

Nila tried to relax and found Kenobi considering her with a smart gleam in his eyes. She plastered a fake smile on her face that meant something suspiciously akin to 'bite me.' Her bad mood increased ten fold when she proceeded to unceremoniously trip over her garb.

Kenobi briefly closed his eyes.

"So, where is your arsenal this time?" he inquired conversationally, looking down at the front of her outfit. "I remember your habit of hiding weapons in the most unusual places."

"Oh," she said, catching the hint about the knife she had planted in his shoulder a few weeks before. "You don't want to know, believe me."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What can I say? You diplomats lead a sheltered life," she said with a smirk.

"Remind me to tell you a few stories about my sheltered diplomatic life."

Nila smiled lightly. Obi-Wan Kenobi was unconditional about everything he did. One of the few things she appreciated about him. Proud and practical, there seemed to be no real shadow in him. Not yet. She watched him discreetly and wondered with a slight pang if the Lower City would taint him in some way… At that moment, she wished she could protect him from all that dirt.

Kenobi touched her arm to draw her attention. Somebody was finally coming toward them. His gaze shifted to her, checking her appearance once more. This place was most definitely designed to welcome a well off crowd of customers. Nila's dark hair had been mostly tamed and pulled back in a simple bun for the occasion, but some stubborn locks still fell haphazardly around her neck and in her eyes. He glanced pensively at her small hands with short broken nails which she immediately tried to hide in the folds of her skirt.

Well…

The young woman caught his look and reddened slightly. She threw her hands up irritably. "Copy that, Master. I pass. Good night."

She moved to turn around but Kenobi easily extended a hand and caught her elbow.

"No time to back down now."

Noticing a few clients detailing them curiously, the master took the liberty of pushing back a loose strand of her hair in what looked like a casual affectionate gesture. It immediately fell back in her face in subtle provocation.

"I didn't do it!" she exclaimed as he glared at her.

The waiter greeted them and announced that Eru Santillian was waiting for them.

"Remember what I told you at the Temple," Nila whispered as they started to follow. "No brash action, show respect. I wouldn't want your mutilated body to ruin my new dress."

He put a light hand on the small of her back to guide her across the restaurant. "Tactful as always …"

As they were left in an antechamber, Kenobi moved toward the window. Nila joined him and tilted her head towards a door at the opposite end of the room.

"They should come in any minute now."

The Jedi master noticed the mist her rapid breathing was creating against the cold glass screen.

Eru Santillian slowly approached the room where his guests were waiting. He paused on the threshold, catching a brief glimpse of the two Jedi impassively looking out the window before they both turned toward him in an identical, fluid movement.

For a mere second, he was struck by the way they mysteriously looked alike despite the radical differences of stature and physical appearance. The impression was so strong that, a little unsure, he called her.

"Asalwa?"

Kenobi was surprised to see the young woman react to the unfamiliar name.

"Greetings, Arda," she said, giving him the traditional title of 'Uncle' which referred to the Families' dignitaries.

Eru bowed his head in return. In a single sharp glance, he noted the Jedi Master's elegant appearance, the classic touch of his formal tunics and the sense of quiet power emanating from him. Nevertheless, his attention went mostly to his partner. The Knight standing there, wary of him as he was wary of her, had little in common with the young woman he used to know. Her dark hair though remained just as unruly as he remembered despite the visible effort to tame it. There were also the eyes wide and almost black but the mind which flickered behind them was that of a stranger. The cool headed chieftain could not suppress a brief twinge in his chest.

"The Family is expecting you, Master Kenobi," he finally said, indicating the door still opened behind him. He raised a hand to stop Nila. "You know the rule, Asalwa. No woman is allowed to attend the Advisors' meetings."

Eru Santillian motioned to a massive man standing on the threshold to escort her out of the room. "Amos here will be happy to lead you to the bar with the other ladies."

"Eru," she protested. "That wasn't what—"

"Please," he interrupted her politely. "Upsetting the Advisors would not be a clever move."

Nila glanced at Kenobi who nodded discreetly before walking through the door. Eru addressed a slight smile and mouthed "don't worry" to the young woman who frowned. However, she knew better than to object and walked out, the henchman in tow.

Nila was introduced to a circle of women, all pampered Family mistresses or wives, of every age and distinction. They interrupted their conversation to take a look at Amos and the girl accompanying him. Nila felt inquisitive and slightly disdainful eyes scrutinize her from head to toe detailing her hands, her hair, her too simple gown.

'What's worse than one woman?' Nila mused with an inward sigh. 'A dozen of them put together.'

She noticed then a rather young woman staring at her from the other side of the table. She did not seem to care overmuch about fashion details and her remarkable pale green eyes were impenetrable.

"I knew you would come," she suddenly said, breaking the silence. "My name is Sabaya. Eru Santillian is my husband."

The emphasis she put in the last part of the sentence was not lost on Nila; the Jedi knight met the green gaze squarely and a tacit understanding passed between them – something faintly hostile and mostly determined.

Amos pulled out a chair for the Jedi and she sat at the table with a meek smile. The women set about asking a few questions to her out of common courtesy but fortunately got tired of it as soon as Sabaya had to excuse herself to go give some orders in the kitchen.

Although Mikan Santillian, his right-hand-man Winsott or any person who would have been likely to recognize her were nowhere to be seen so far, Nila disliked the idea of sitting idly at a table in full view of the whole restaurant.

An hour passed.

And another.

Nila was reduced to count the accumulation of empty glasses on the table and to discreetly dart her eyes toward the closed door behind which the Family was debating. The wait was driving her insane. The Jedi risked a probe through the Force only to feel a relentless resistance. This idiot was blocking her out!

The minutes ticked by and she felt herself becoming inwardly livid. What could take them so long? It was just a first meeting to see if the man would have the guts to carry the business with them to the end. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut, addressing a silent prayer to whoever was listening that Kenobi had not done anything to make them want to push the "guts" examination in a more literal way. The woman who was sitting at her right and had kept quiet most of the evening suddenly spoke up.

"Curious, I'd never pictured the Advisors as such chatters before," she pondered aloud, instantly fuelling Nila's anxiety before adding with a drunken smile: "My guess is that your friend is already on his way to be buried in a duracrete pylon."

They all cackled. Nila quirked up an eyebrow. Mob people had money. They could definitely afford sluts with a better sense of humour.

"Duracrete pylons? Be serious. It's hardly discreet and it takes hours -- you only see that in movies," Nila heard herself blurter out learnedly. "In reality, they slit the carotid with a vibroblade and dump the body in an energy field before the blood soaks everything. A beautiful invention the energy field, dissolves about everything in a matter of seconds. No corpse, no proof!" she said cheerily, beaming at the dumbfounded circle.

"But there are several variants of course," she admitted humbly, taking a sip of her drink.

'Me and my big mouth…'

She leaned back against the couch, apparently relaxed but inside worry and anger intertwined with other emotions she did not identify. That fool had better have a convincing explanation. Who the hell did he think he was, going on his own in a totally unfamiliar environment shutting her off?

Those Jedi and their smug certitude that they were bound to save the day!

Around her, the women had started to babble again albeit a tad less enthusiastically. They were not waiting.

Yes, happy the witless indeed.

The door opened and she felt as if all her blood had rushed down to her legs. Before she had time to formulate the thought she was already on her feet, anxious, hoping.

He walked out. Still in one piece, thank the Force. The Advisors clapped his back in a friendly manner and the confident smile plastered on his face deepened as soon as he spotted her.

Nila smiled tentatively back to him. He looked very handsome.

And pale. Oh, Force was he pale…

Nila lowered her eyes. There was blood on his hands.