Chapter: One. The Deal
Author: Taulaes
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or any of the associated characters. I am not George Lucas and I do not profit from this fanfic.
-
Qui-Gon Jinn lead Obi-Wan Kenobi, his new Padawan, to the clothes' fitters. Obi-Wan needed a few new set of robes now that he was a Padawan and not just an initiate anymore. The two robe sets had very few differences and the initiate robes that still fit Obi-Wan could be made to look like Padawans' robes. "Padawan, how many new robes do you need?" asked Qui-Gon.
"I don't know, Master," replied Obi-Wan.
"Well, how many pairs of robes to you have now? Or, at least, the ones that are wearable in public," Master Jinn wondered.
"There's this pair that I'm wearing now, Master. I know there's this one, the one I wore yesterday, and a pair I will wear tomorrow . . . I have at least three pairs . . . Maybe. Actually, I don't know if tomorrow's pair is wearable," Obi-Wan said, almost sounding shamed.
"Do you at least know what size you wear?"
"Well, err, no . . . I bet if you ask any other Padawan, they wouldn't know either," stated Obi-Wan.
"What will you bet?" Qui-Gon was determined to teach his new Padawan a lesson.
"I will bet my homemade chocolate cheesecake," Obi-Wan said proudly.
"That's it? Cheesecake? You're betting cheesecake?" said Qui-Gon, half mockingly.
"Yes, Master. You've never tasted my chocolate cheesecake before. But because you seem to think that isn't an adequate bet . . . I will also bet that if you win, I will do dishes for a week," Obi-Wan said, just as mockingly as his master.
"But for as long as you've been my Padawan, which is now nearing two months, you've always done dishes. I expect it from you now. To make it more interesting, let us say that, if I win, not only will you make me some of this alleged best chocolate cheesecake ever, but you shall also repair all your robes that are not wearable in public," Qui-Gon suggested.
"It's a deal, on one condition. You see, this, so far, is a one-sided bet. What happens if I win, Master?" asked Obi-Wan slyly.
"Padawan, I do not think that you shall win, but seeing how you are hopeful . . . If you win, which is unlikely, I shall repair all your unwearable robes, do the dishes for a month, and agree to give you an allowance with the monetary level at your choosing."
"Deal," the eleven-year-old Padawan said.
The Master and his Padawan shook hands to finalize the bet and headed on their way to the clothes' fitters. Both were smiling. Obi-Wan grinned because he believed he was going to win. Qui-Gon did because he had some cards up his sleeves.
END OF CHAPTER ONE