Qui-Gon and Anakin landed on the planet nearly six hours later. Anakin slept off and on, sleep interrupted by brief moments of bouncing on his sleep-couch. Qui-Gon vowed he would never, EVER let the boy come anywhere near, caffeine, or the lack thereof.
They stepped off the ship, and walked east, to the diner where their contact worked. "Master, why do have to get a contact? Why can't we just walk off the ship and find people?" Anakin asked, straightening a poncho Qui-Gon had given him when they landed. It was beige, and hung to the ground. "Because there are too many people to focus on just one would take too long, especially in this crowded market place," he replied waving his hand around the dang crowded market place, smacking someone in the face, "But I wish we could do that. How freaking awesome would that be?" Qui-Gon asked himself. "Pretty dang awesome." he answered himself.
"You wanna buy some death sticksssssss?" asked a voice behind them, it was the guy Qui-Gon had accidentally slapped. "You don't want to sell me death sticks." he said, with a slight move of his hand. The guy looked confused, "Of course I wanna sell you death sticks, why the hell else would I ask you if you wanted to buy some! But you know what? I wanna go home and rethink my life." He said, running away.
Qui-Gon and anakin stepped into the café where their contact worked. It was dark, mellow music played in the background. They sat at the counter, on small oddly-shaped stools. A person was speaking in hushed, rhyming tones on the stage, a spot light made it possible to see the beatnik. Her black beret and purple sunglasses disappeared as she walked off the stage, directly past them. "Cameron?" Qui-Gon asked, trying to read the name of their contact of the datapad in the dim light. The beatnik turned her head, red hair whipped Anakin in the face as she did, "Chameleon, friend, but who are you is the question." She said, gesturing with her hands. "We're the Jedi that came to catch the bad guy." Anakin replied helpfully and adorably, in his too long poncho. A smile tugged at the beatnik's lips, but died. "Oh, right. Look, I'm supposed to go around town with you guys, but man, your totally looking like an out-of-towner. You're gonna need an updated look. Go to this place," she said, handing him a card, "ask for Chareese, say I sent you, and come back tomorrow." She said, walking away. Qui-Gon nodded and pulled his hood over his head. He took Anakin outside and led him down the street, to a hair shop. "Hmmm." Qui-Gon said profoundly, before stepping inside. He went to the front desk where a young girl was filing. Her nails. He put the card on the counter and asked for Chareese. He explained Chameleon had sent him.
Chareese, was a humanoid with long red fingernails and dark curly fair. She seemed nearly forty, about Qui-Gon's age, in standard years. The humanoid fingered Qui-Gon's hair and rolled her eyes, "Honey, what have you done to this poor hair? Do you condition? No. you might as well put on a blue, pointy hat and be singing, 'If I Only Had a Brain'." she said with a slight lisp. Qui-Gon gave a confused look to Anakin, who just shrugged. He looked back to the humanoid, slightly wary of those long fingernails. She looked at the clock and ushered Qui-Gon to a chair, "Come on darlin', we haven't got all day, especially now that I have to do something with this!" she said, sitting Qui-Gon in a chair. She set some sort of round devices in Qui-gon's hair and let it set while she went to the back of the shop and found some clothes. "We do undercover work all the time, here's some clothes that'll fit, you can wear them home or bring em' back if you like, just wear em' here, nobody takes too kindly to Jedi." Chareese explained over the hair dryer as he set some clothes before qui-gon. Once his hair was dry, qui-Gon tried the clothes: baggy pants made of some sort of thick blue material, a white wife-beater, a long plaid shirt, and some 'skata shoes'. All the clothes seemed three sizes too big.
Even for the 6'4 Jedi; the clothes barely clung to his frame. Then Chareese took the rollers out of his hair and teased it a bit, adding quite enough hair spray.
Anakin's eyes widened and he tried to suppress a smile. "Uh oh…..." Qui-Gon thought, "This doesn't seem good."
Suddenly, his chair spun around and he faced a mirror. He stared in shock. His hair defied gravity, all of it stood straight up, in 15-inch-tall, curly, frizzy ball of hair that sat on his head. There was a silver hair pick that seemed to be permanently stuck in the side of this monster. He reached up and touched the hairdo.
He stood and nodded at Chareese, having nothing to say and feeling he might cry or do something equally unJedi-like, then looked at his padawan, giving him a warning glance. Anakin was having a terrible time trying to disguise his laughter. Qui-Gon packed up his Jedi robes in his pack and walked out of the shop, to face the world.
"Righteous 'fro man!" someone yelled, running by.
"Duuuuuuuuuuude….." said a juvenile delinquent, giving Qui-Gon the 'rock on' sign with her fingers.
Qui-Gon had it in mind to shave his head; he wasn't quite sure how he was going to get all that product out of his hair.
On the way to a motel for the night, Qui-gon decided it was in his best interest to buy a hat from one of the street vendors. But the only one he could find that was cover his hair was a bright purple newsboy. He bought it, but decided it was almost as bad as the hair.
The vendor assured him it was the latest fashion though, and proved his point by pointing out other men Qui-Gon's age with his hairdo or hat.
It still wasn't very comforting.
He shoved his hair into the hat and walked quickly back to the hotel.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light and Anakin giggled. He had taken a picture of his master on his camera-comlink! Qui-gon grabbed the comlink. Too late. Anakin had already sent the picture to Obi-wan, Mace Windu, Yoda, all of his friends, and the Temple Archives. He shook his head and walked into his room, turned off his comlink, closed the door and buried his head under his pillow, which hovered about 15 inches above his head.