What can I say? ...My muse has got the sillies today.
Seriously, I had intended to write a Rogue Squadron prank, and out came this.
Enjoy.
Trap
The Rogue Squadron was in the process of conducting a stakeout. A non-military stakeout, admittedly, but Janson had stressed its importance and they held their positions dutifully. However, when, at the half hour mark, someone had yet to cross their trap, Antilles wondered aloud if there was anyone in this section of the base at all. Hobbie questioned were they, in fact, still in said base?
For the past few minutes Hobbie and Antilles had been saying that the stakeout would be better held in a more public area, but Wes had maintained that the halls outside the Council Chambers simply must be the place and would they please shut-up? – they would give away the position. And so the Rogue Squadron waited, chalk in hands.
At long last and about time, their first victim rounded the corner. Wedge and Hobs exchanged a glance; surely the Supreme Commander wouldn't, would she? She was far too clever to fall for it…
Mon Mothma stopped at the edge of Janson's masterpiece. She cast a quick glace around, put down her papers, hiked up her Council robes and hopped, following the Rogue's Squadron's carefully drawn hopscotch template.
Wedge said to Hobs, "Maybe he picked this spot for a reason after all." And Janson said to no one "D'you reckon we should start up a tally?"
Well?