"Where are we going, again?" Katie asked. Its not like she hadn't already been told, it was just amusing to try to annoy Obi-wan when he looked as irritable as he did now.
"Absolutely nowhere." He'd gotten barely any sleep the night before and really wasn't in the mood for the two of them. At least, not for chaperoning the two of them throughout a city. A very large, dangerous, crowded city at that. But then again, since when had things gone according to his mood?
"What did you mean by formal wear?" Mel asked. This was a genuine question, as she'd been listening when he'd explained earlier. She was enjoying herself, happy to be outside (legally, for once) and was hoping to convince him into giving them a tour.
"Something that means I can take you out in public and not be embarrassed." He replied. What a sad state of affairs. Reduced to a nanny.
"Which would be?" Katie piped up, curious as to whether it would be anything remotely earthly.
"Something with a muzzle." He needed a drink.
- - -
The particular tailors trusted with the business of the Empire were off of the main drag, in a very posh looking building. The interior was not as polished looking, being a little heavy on the white marble and gold motif.
"How's this for illusions of grandeur?" Obi-wan muttered half to him, half to them. "They were poor as dirt when they had morals, turned into sycophantic little ticks and managed to redo their living room into a tacky marble palace. Its disgusting, really." He leaned on one of the lesser mahogany monstrosities masquerading as counters, dinging the silver bell marked 'for service'.
Katie, catching his comment, looked up at him oddly. He was a fine one to talk… its not like they gave out high advisory posts in this Empire-thingy without having you apply first.
The girl who appeared first on the stairway looked reasonably normal, that is she seemed to be completely human. 'Normal' was probably an inadequate adjective, given that she was draped entirely in washed-out gold to match the décor. Entirely, that is, not counting the strategic cuts revealing cleavage and artfully tattooed midriff. "I presume you have an appointment?" She asked archly, in a voice more suited for a call girl than the receptionist she apparently was.
Obi-wan straightened, managing to look down his nose at her despite the fact that she was still halfway up the stairs. "Appointment? We are here with regards from Lord Vader himself-"
Apparently remembering this at last, the poor girl looked stricken. "Oh… I'm so terribly sorry," She insisted smoothly, flying down the stairs, in a voice layered with as many notes of honey and sugar possible. Delicately shoving Obi-wan into one of the overly plush lounge chairs, she grabbed onto Mel and Katie and began dragging them off to one of the other rooms. Though she was a slight creature, this hurt, as her nails were something like three inches long.
The fitting room, or whatever it was, was rather cold. Thankfully the scary receptionist lady handed them off to a much saner looking tailor(ess). "There's a screen over there," She pointed out in a surprisingly feline purr. "Keep your underthings on, mind."
At least this room was significantly warmer than the last; so as to keep those scantily clad comfortable. It was also much more tastefully done, in muted shades of beige and grey. The floor was stone, in dark brown, but it had been heated somehow and was actually quite pleasant.
Mel undressed rather gracefully, despite the four or five layers she was wearing, but Katie had somehow gotten the innermost layer twisted around her head, and was stuck.
"Mel… I need heeellllppp…" She moaned, hopping about futilely.
"Oh, god Katie, how did you manage that?" Mel muttered. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered…
The mysterious formal wear turned out to be two full-length dresses. One was black and tied with a satiny red ribbon; the other was the reverse. Black and red being, of course, the official colors of the Empire. There was a brief spat as they fought over the black one, Katie winning.
Not that the actual dresses were anything amazing, as they were simple sweetheart necklines (strapless), tailored to their forms and long, long 'skirts'.
After the relative fun of trying those on came the not-so-fun part: winter gear. Though Obi-wan had declined to warn them about this, apparently the next planet was a cold one.
Things like fur-lined parkas, that topped thick fur-lined shirts, and more layers of various furs were thrust upon them, despite the warmth of the room. As this soon amounted to something like eight layers of clothing, Katie couldn't help feeling a tad like a penguin as she waddled around.
- - -
Obi-wan was actually enjoying himself, which was a first for the day. He'd ditched the padawans (which had involved a very intricate method of slipping by the receptionist/whore girl) and had found his much-needed drink.
Or two. In fact, it might be a good idea if he stopped drinking, given that it was a tad early to get soused. Money wasn't the issue (he could put it on the government's tab) but the slight problem of finding his way back drunk.
The nice hole-in-the-wall pub he'd found on chance was quite nice as well, well lit and quiet. The house larger had looked good, but he'd always preferred whiskey or scotch when he got the chance. It was still on the law-abiding side of town, as there seemed to be only one rather hesitant Death Stick dealer.
Idly picking up one of his empty glasses and peering through the wavy glass at the bottom, he thought to himself. Death Sticks. Now there's something new. I could kill myself, but have fun doing it.
Chuckling and sounding rather deranged, he got up. Sweeping the glasses together he tipped the barmaid, before waltzing out a bit unsteadily.
Now… where was he going, again?
- - -
As they stood there in the echoingly empty receiving room, Katie gently ran her fingers of the scar forming on her arm. It was still raw and sore, but was actually shaping up to be rather attractive, as scars went. It curved into the middle of her forearm, and ran straight then curved up off of her wrist. There was an almost vine or plant curvature to it, and with properly designed tattoos, could look entirely deliberate.
In fact, that was what Obi-wan had suggested. Katie had actually been considering that, but Mel had looked severely guilty. Not that she shouldn't be, but it had been an accident.
Unfortunately they were standing there for a very long time, as Obi-wan did not show up. Sighing in irritation, Mel plopped into the cushy leather chair he had vacated some hour and a half ago. Casually kicking the coffee table, she didn't see the piece of paper lying on it, addressed to her.
But Katie did. Leaning over from her chair opposite Mel, she summoned the paper to her through the Force. It obliged, gliding nicely into her open palm with a graceful flutter.
The handwriting was familiar enough, as they'd seen him write on many occasions. Neat and slanted, the letters were formed unfailingly correctly, but the ends looped together with an altogether gentlemanly feel to it. It read: 'off to get a drink. Don't bother waiting, I'll forget. Head back when you're done, but don't get lost, don't take shortcuts and remember not talk to strangers.' Feeling certain that they'd know who wrote the note, he had neglected to sign it with even an initial.
Katie frowned, and sent the note gliding back to her companion. "He seems real concerned about our getting lost, now, doesn't he. Don't talk to strangers. Really…"
Mel shrugged. "He's right. That's the problem." She was looking forward to traipsing about the city, but it would be nice if that didn't end in them getting unceremoniously carted off by the white plastic Gestapo.
"Nice of him to leave such detailed directions though." Trace, trace, trace. The sarcasm was deeply apparent in her voice, as well as her scorn for the subject in general.
"Leave him alone. It's probably some calculated training thing, or something." Beating on him while he wasn't there was hardly fair, though she did sound a tad overly indignant. Crumpling the paper and then hurriedly smoothing it out, Mel pocketed it.
"Yeah. How to get hopelessly lost in urban areas, 101." This whole affair was getting irritatingly one-sided. There wasn't anything that sneering would improve, besides her feelings. And while (hopefully) reducing his god-image in her eyes…
- - -
Thanks in part to the attention Mel had paid, and also to the fact that it was the largest black blotch on the entire visible landscape, finding their way back was rather easy. It also reinforced the idea that all the time they'd spent bickering was longer than how long it took them to actually do it.
As they stood there in the main bay, they realized they had absolutely no idea that they were supposed to do right then. Obi-wan had neglected to inform them of that part of their schedule. Mel was all for just chilling, but Katie (oddly enough) looked a bit uncomfortable with that proposition.
"I dunno… I was planning to-" She began, before being interrupted by Mel.
"Go off and spend it 'learning'. I know." Mel looked a tad annoyed. "I should be annoyed that I'll be all alone, but when aren't you off hanging around him?"
Katie looked slightly taken aback, but more defensive than the former. Mel had done this before, and she'd learned that she should just ignore it. Not that she ever did what she was supposed to. "Whats with you?" She muttered, but walked off to go find something to do that didn't involve her friend.
Mel was left standing there, feeling wronged. Shaking her head over how very transparent Katie could be at times, she wandered off to the main training room. If she didn't have anything to do, she might as well practice.
- - -
"No… More like this." He adjusted where she was holding her arms, hands impartial. After all, she was just a student…
Or at least they were. He paused, fingers lingering as they were clasped gently about her wrists. She was staring at him, or at least making uncommon eye contact. They were blue, a simple blue, with tinges of a lighter grey inside them. Why hadn't he noticed before? Probably because she'd determinedly been avoiding his eyes… The act of making deliberate eye contact was an act that bespoke at least of a superficial intimacy. The eyes showed nearly all emotions, all strong feelings and whether one was lying or not, so to make direct eye contact could be considered risky. Besides, he knew his own eyes were of an unusual, if not disturbing color.
"And...?" She asked, voice hesitant.
"And now you slide the tip to the right," He continued, directing the saber she held. But as he talked her through the sequence, his mind was far removed from the subject… though closer at hand than that might imply.
Not that they were anything but the most impartial musings. She was just a student, after all.
- - -
Mel hummed softly to herself, a mixture of the Indiana Jones theme and one she'd heard on some random sci-fi show. It had the right balance of an epic battle feel, and noble hero theme to it. Whizzing about in a dramatic circle, playing her soundtrack in her head… she was entirely shocked when her lightsaber collided with another, loudly.
It was none other than Obi-wan. He was looking more under the weather than usual, as his eyes were much more bloodshot and he looked more off-balance. "Sorry about earlier." His voice didn't seem it, as light and sarcastic as usual.
Mel frowned, hero moment over. He was probably just pushing her buttons, but now she had a lightsaber in her hand, her own razor wit, and the promise of a challenge.
He was going to be sorry.
"I really don't think fighting drunk is good for your health. You might trip." Mel angled in a block, tip slashing at his ankles.
He backed up and around smoothly, catching and twisting her saber to the side. "You've entered this battle of wits unarmed, young padawan." He attempted a disarm, though she countered with a move he had showed them just the other day. "Good. I'm glad to see you actually listen to me."
"You flatter yourself." Mel tried to keep her face and voice as offhand as possible, but he was really good. Which should come as no surprise, even as intoxicated as he was.
"You flatter yourself in trying to fight me." He seemed utterly relaxed, as though he could do this sort of thing in his sleep. Mel, obviously, was not that bad, it was just an image that he had chosen to most keep her off-guard. "I was a protégé at this before you knew how to walk."
Mel attempted a sophisticated raised eyebrow response. "You're that young? But from your worldly views, Great Master, I thought you were much older than that." The eyebrow dropped. "That and your grey hair."
"I do not have grey hair." He replied, looking a tad (honestly) offended. "But then, you are too young to understand the true meaning of age." He was surprisingly graceful; acting more like this was an elaborate dance than a sparring match. He was barely breathing heavily either, though there was a gleam in his eye that bespoke how very happy he was to finally get to honorably defeat someone.
"I may be young, but you are having delusions of grandeur." She needed to get off of the defense, and on to the offense. He'd win hands down once he managed to tire her out, and he could definitely last longer than she. "Listen to yourself. Your sarcasm is just a front for your emotional emptiness. You can't let anyone in, and you compensate by keeping everyone as far away as possible." She dodged, and tried to swing the battle onto his end. "Did you have an unsatisfactory home life?"
He snorted, quite amused by her new tactic. The problem was, half of it was much too right, as after the whole fiasco he'd tried to keep from forming any bonds that would hurt him if broken. "I didn't have a home life. Children are screened at four in most civilized systems, and then brought to the academy." Well, they were screened. The new empire has entirely different rules and approaches to things like that.
"See? Torn from a loving family early. Brought up in the cruel, emotionally distant Academy." Mel was feeling a bit better about her skills, proud she has lasted this long. All she needed was for him to drop his guard for a moment or two, and she'd have him. If, that is, they were playing by first blood.
He tried to keep a straight face, but started laughing. Mel jumped at the chance, flinging herself forward and managing to cut a large chunk out of his sleeve. But he was faster than she was, and recovered insanely quickly. With a bit of a whoop, he disarmed her in the same motion as he got his hilt against her throat and her against the back wall. "My parents didn't care. The Academy provides some compensation, and they jumped for it. I don't even remember them." He looked down at the slit in his sleeve. "That was good, but not good enough." Mentally, he chided himself for letting her get so close. Getting slow, are you, Obi-wan? Complacent, with all this desk work. Three years ago, she'd have lasted all of a minute with you.
"But, overall, good job." He let her go, and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I enjoyed it." He turned to walk off, but remembered something. "If you're stuck all alone again, you can come talk to me. I have the free time."