Even having accumulated half a century of wisdom and experience it never ceased to surprise Qui-Gon how quickly things could take an unexpected turn.
It had been one of the few times since Jemmiah had come to live with them some four years before that they'd vacationed together. Not that Jedi had proper vacations, although it certainly seemed more of a holiday with Jemmiah in tow than the routine he'd planned for his padawan. It had been an officially sanctioned window in their busy schedule to allow Obi-Wan - and himself also - to try out certain training scenarios under strict conditions. For Jemmiah it would be the first time she had travelled anywhere with him since the unfortunate business with Riarda and his father. Her agreement to accompany him on that occasion had been reluctant, and given that she'd been forced to watch two grown men fight to the death over her he was frankly astonished that she'd consider journeying with him again…
He'd wondered how much that incident still played on her mind. No matter how he'd tried to get her to talk about it she would simply dismiss it just as she might any of her problems. It was past history, she would say - and perhaps she was right. After all, wasn't he the one who set so much store by living in the moment? To him the time shared with Jemmiah was every bit as important as that spent with Obi-Wan, for it allowed him the chance to understand her better. She was changing so much of late, blossoming before his eyes into a determined, beautiful creature. Somewhere along the line the little girl he'd rescued had grown up…and he had missed it. This had been a great opportunity to re-establish that bond of trust and love and it had all gone according to plan - until Mortimer had burst in on them. If she had been hurt…he would not have forgiven himself.
Or her.
He shook the thought from his mind. Recriminations could wait: instead Qui-Gon decided to use the current situation to his advantage. Whilst he was lying helpless on the fold down bunk he might at least be able to make some progress where Mortimer was concerned. It wasn't as if the boy could run away when he was in the middle of a healing session...
"Tell me, Mortimer." Jinn adopted a pleasant manner, allowing a certain degree of curiosity to penetrate his words. "You've lived on this planet for how long?"
Mortimer squirmed visibly. No doubt he had anticipated the line of questioning and was trying unsuccessfully to think of a way to get out of answering anything that proved too searching.
"Fourteen years, sir. At least I think so: I've never really been too certain of the precise time. But for as long as I can remember." He placed his hands either side of Qui-Gon's head but did not allow his palms direct contact with the master's skin. "This planet is all I know."
Qui-Gon digested that slowly. "Were you born here?" He asked finally, sensing once more the flicker of discomfort that flared as a result of his question.
"I don't think so." Mortimer closed his eyes, trying to focus on his task. "My master never told me about the circumstances in which we came to be together. All I know is that she is the first face I remember…and just about the only one since. She's always been with me…she devotes herself to my training. Sometimes I think she's too involved, if it's permitted for me to offer criticism of a master?" He squinted at Qui-Gon through a half-open eye, relaxing fractionally on seeing Qui-Gon's smile. "I wasn't sure if such a reproach was allowed. The temple sounds so interesting…but my master never seems to want to discuss it unless to criticise. If I ask her about the rules and the way of life on Coruscant she just laughs and says that on this planet we can make up whatever rules we want." He swallowed nervously; aware he was dealing with an illustrious Jedi master. "It never feels right, somehow…laughing at the temple. It don't thinks she has much love for the place."
Jinn felt the glow of the force surrounding him, wrapping him within a cocoon of light. The energy - that sense of raw power - shone directly from the boy, permeating through every cell in his body replacing the numbness with warmth. The sensation might have lacked the sheer impact of the stun Mortimer had employed earlier but no less caught him off guard. He could feel the conscious effort the young man was making to channel the healing energy into him and instantly relaxed, pushing aside his earlier doubts.
The boy was talented: he had not over-exaggerated his abilities. Whatever his master's faults she hadn't completely neglected his training. But this was a natural skill that seemed to stem not only through the force but something equally deep seated: a personality that was every bit as robust and quirky as Jemmiah's.
If only he could have been raised on Coruscant. Qui-Gon reflected silently as Mortimer continued to repair the effects of the stun against his body. What an asset this boy might have made!
He doubted that the collective wisdom of the council, such as it was, would allow him to stay within the temple as a padawan. The usual arguments would no doubt ensue and this time they would have a better reason to band together than they had against Jemmiah. But there was one thing that intrigued him above all else: the circumstances that had brought Mortimer to this planet. Either through genuine ignorance or convenient amnesia, as Jemmiah called it, the young man did not seem able to tell him anything of his background. Perhaps another tack was called for?
"What is your master's name?" He asked carefully.
This time the reaction was instant and dramatic. The warmth of the force healing cut off in the same way someone might turn off a light.
"W-why would you want to know that?" Mortimer asked, fixing Qui-Gon with a wary look.
"Well," Qui-Gon found the strength to shrug, "I might have heard of her. I just wondered if I knew the name?"
Mortimer's shoulders sagged in relief, his face glowing once again. "With over 9,000 Jedi in the temple, sir? It's unlikely…"
"It's nearer 10,000 now." Jinn made a mental note of how relatively well informed Mortimer was for a boy who had never set foot on Coruscant. For someone who apparently had some kind of grudge against the temple it seemed his master had kept him well abreast of the Jedi way of life. The fact that she was still dressing the boy in Jedi style tunics was interesting to say the least. "But for all that it is possible I may have heard her name, back in the dim and distant past…"
An extremely uncomfortable silence followed whilst Mortimer debated the wisdom in further betraying his master's trust. If she could see him now, what would she think? His heart nearly dropped to his stomach in dread at the thought of disappointing her further…he cared for his master, yet couldn't bring himself to harm these people who had, somehow, managed to draw him into their world. The padawan - Ben Obi something or other - seemed amusing in an understated way, with a dry wit and a twinkle to his eye. Mortimer had found himself liking him instantly for all that he had been received with initial suspicion. The master was considerate, calm and strangely comforting, in a dependable way. It was difficult not to trust him. It was how he had always pictured the Jedi to be.
And the Corellian girl was just simply…lovely.
Mortimer sighed. It wasn't the first time he had wondered what life outside their small world must be like but never before had he felt so torn. His existence with his master was incomplete, and he knew it. She of all people must have felt his bottled up frustration at not being able to practice his skills. He glanced up from the floor and saw a near-recovered Qui-Gon Jinn staring him directly in the eye.
"Her name is Freyya Edritch." He mumbled, apprehensively waiting to see if the name stirred any reaction in the Jedi.
Qui-Gon frowned. Whilst the name didn't instantly awaken any memories nor did it completely sound unfamiliar. Of course Mortimer was most likely correct - 10,000 Jedi in the temple…not even Master Yoda knew everyone at one given time! Although giving her predilection for keeping her ear to the ground it was a fair bet that his first padawan G'emela did…
Freyya Edritch? It meant something…but he couldn't say what it was or where he had heard the name.
"No," he ventured after a while, certain that the force would bring enlightenment if he only gave it a chance, "I can't say that it means anything to me at this moment." The boy's relief was palpable and it caused Qui-Gon considerable sorrow to see the way the young man was torn. He evidently cared for his master, which surely said something in her favour? But she had omitted the one thing from his training that a good apprentice required: proper instruction. That he had got so far spoke more for the boy's integrity and affable nature than anything his so-called master had managed.
"Come with us." Qui-Gon spoke gently. "This is your chance, Mortimer. A chance to put the past behind you and start again. To maybe do something with those special force talents you have." He indicated the open doorway with a sweep of his hand. " When this ship leaves for Coruscant there will be a place onboard for you - if you want it. What do you say?"
Mortimer remained frozen where he stood, shocked beyond all reason. He'd hoped that such an offer would be made one day - that he would be able to shake the dust of this planet from his boots and fly away - to find a true place for himself within the galaxy doing what he did best: helping others. He'd dreamed of such a day.
Yet conversely he'd dreaded it too...
"I…I don't know." Mortimer mumbled, his chin against his chest. "I really don't know what to do. It's a big decision to make a moment's notice, sir. I've dreamed and hoped that my master and I would leave this planet and head to Coruscant but as time went by…" His green eyes flicked upwards, betraying his distress at the choice Qui-Gon was facing him with.
"It became obvious that your master was afraid to return to the temple?" Qui-Gon finished gently, rewarded by a guilty looking nod of Mortimer's head. "And that rather than face her own demons she would condemn both of you to a life of exile?"
The young man felt his throat tighten automatically. After all that his master had repeatedly drilled into him, here he was - discussing their life with total strangers. These particular strangers Freyya Edritch had feared beyond all measure: Mortimer had never seen her so utterly vexed. A threat to their security, she had called them. An obstacle to their continued peace and prosperity that had to be removed at all cost. Up until that point Mortimer had never really considered why his master should be so fearful of the Jedi, but when that final, fateful order had been laid upon him…
The blood in Mortimer's veins had run cold.
"My master has always been very kind to me, sir." Mortimer perched timidly on the chair next to Qui-Gon's bunk. "She's never harmed me or caused me any pain. But I've always known that she has a secret…something that she doesn't want me to know about. And she's always been afraid that we would get discovered sooner or later. It's a beautiful part of the planet that we live in, but it's rough…wild. That's why there are so few natives around. Every now and then people would 'drop in' unannounced."
"And," Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, "did your master deal with those unannounced people the same way that she asked you to take care of us?"
"No, sir!" Mortimer protested, his voice rising in defence of Freyya Edritch. "She used to mind-trick them and send them on their way…at least to start with. I think," Mortimer caught sight of the concern in Qui-Gon's eyes and gulped noticeably, "as time went on she felt that in order to stay safe more drastic methods were called for. We had a large party of travellers descend upon us last year…some kind of ghost tour. They say the area is haunted with wild spirits that drive a person insane. Of course, there aren't any wild spirits at all."
"Just you and your master." Qui-Gon sighed, liking the story less and less as Mortimer continued.
"Yes sir. It made my master very angry. I've never seen her so enraged! She rounded them all up in the cave down below on the beach." Mortimer hung his head in shame, his cheeks burning bright red. "And she mind-tricked all of them…wiped all of their memories. Reduced them to total amnesiacs…"
Qui-Gon's eyes flew wide open. "All of them?"
"It was the only way to stop them from coming, she said!" Mortimer answered wretchedly, all but wringing his hands. "That if they wanted a ghost story she would give them one…and that people would become too afraid to go near the area if word got around what had happened."
"But they kept coming?" Qui-Gon guessed. "Nothing like a little adverse publicity to draw in the crowds…"
"My master has always feared the day the Jedi would come." The young man scuffed his foot off the leg of the chair. "The ordinary folks she could tolerate because she knew she could fix them with mind-tricks. But ever since she broke her leg she's become increasingly paranoid. I asked her," Mortimer worried at a fingernail for a moment, chewing at the callused skin, "what would have happened if she had been there on her own? Or if we had both been injured? I've made good progress with the leg but she still limps quite badly. It's limited her agility and she isn't yet able to get about as well as she could. The last few times that people have come here," Mortimer spoke quietly, "I have had to be the one who has dealt with them."
"And when she sensed the presence of a Jedi…" Qui-Gon began.
"She panicked to start with. Like a trapped animal in a cage." The boy broke off, staring wistfully towards the corridor where he could sense Obi-Wan and Jemmiah bickering in a friendly, sibling-like manner. Was that what normal life was like? It had taken him fourteen years to appreciate it but life with Freyya Edritch seemed far from normal. "Then she got really mad when she realised she couldn't deal with you herself. She told me to dispose of you all…that we'd both be done-for if you got back to Coruscant alive. I begged her," Mortimer almost wailed, "not to make me do it but she said it was a trial…a test of my nerve and courage."
"I think you've shown more nerve and courage by confessing this to me than you ever would have in seeking our death." The master replied, clapping Mortimer on the shoulder. "But now you will have to show yet more by deciding…"
"…Whether to come with you." Mortimer finished Qui-Gon's sentence, his heart thudding wildly. On the face of it there was no decision at all to make. If he returned to Freyya without having slain the two Jedi and their companion he was afraid of what the consequences might be. It pained him to admit that he had now got to the point where he was scared of what his master, in her state of paranoia, might do were she to lash out.
But could he leave her behind? She would be on her own, unable to fully take care of herself. Would she be able to let him go? He owed her so much…Freyya had trained him, looked after him, brought him up by herself. How could he repay all she had done by stabbing her thus in the back?
Yet Coruscant called to him. Somehow, even in his dreams, it always had. It was as if the force was telling him that he was meant to be there.
"You must trust the force." Qui-Gon urged him. "Listen to it. Calm yourself…clear your worries from your mind. When you are at peace you will find the decision easy to make - whatever it should be."
Mortimer glanced sharply at the master. "You would not force me to come back?" He asked suspiciously.
"I would never force another being into doing anything they did not want to." Answered Qui-Gon with sagacity that might have done Master Yoda proud. "It is not the Jedi way."
That was the difference between the Jedi and Freyya Edritch, Mortimer thought with heart-breaking clarity. The Jedi taught tolerance and understanding from the cradle. The Jedi put other people first. Freyya always put herself first at the cost of all others. This was the lesson that the force was trying to teach him. If he stayed then he might always be afraid of what his master would make him do. Each new command would become more demanding - a further step down a dark and crooked path. At least if he was not around he might save her from that temptation…
But how could he abandon her to her fate? What kind of person would that make him?
"Talk to Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon suggested. "Ask him any questions you might have. You might find him more sympathetic than he first appeared: he has a tendency to over-react where my personal safety is concerned. If you want to join us then we will leave within the next few hours, before your master begins to wonder what has befallen you. If not…we will say nothing more of this and let you return."
"But you'll inform the council, won't you?" Mortimer stood up, feeling his knees shaking. "Whether I stay or go…they'll come after her."
Qui-Gon remained silent. He would have little choice but to inform the council given the way that Freyya had misused the force against innocent people. It would be out of his hands at that point, but the council would invariably sanction a search for Freyya and Mortimer too, should he unwisely elect to stay behind and share her fate. He had heard that in extreme cases the Jedi used individuals specifically trained in seeking darksiders and force abusers to hunt and on occasions remove the threat. Was that to be Mortimer's end?
I won't stand by and let that happen. Qui-Gon thought with renewed determination. Obi-Wan will surely get through to Mortimer. I shan't let this talented boy throw his life away on a master who quite clearly has no right to that title…
"I do not know." Qui-Gon lied, resting his head against the pillow. "That decision can wait…for the time being. In the meantime, if you could send Jemmiah to me I'd be most grateful. She and I have some words to exchange, I think."
"Don't tire yourself, sir!" Mortimer implored him, sounding more and more like a healer with every passing moment. "Allow the healing energy to do its work! If it's the young lady you seek I'll send her to you, but please don't argue! It will slow down the recovery process and besides, I don't want to be the cause of another argument."
Qui-Gon smiled indulgently. "Oh, do not fret for me. Jemmiah and I have a certain routine. It may take some time to get there but eventually we arrive at a point where, after debating matters for some length in animated fashion, things work out to our mutual satisfaction."
"How is that, sir?" Mortimer frowned.
"I end up apologising for something that she has done." Qui-Gon sighed, closing his eyes and nestling his head against the pillow. "And in return I get some peace and quiet!"
Peace and quiet was about the least accurate description that could be attributed to Obi-Wan and Jemmiah at that moment. Away from Qui-Gon's watchful gaze Obi-Wan found himself slouching on his chair, one booted foot crossed lazily over the other, browsing through what appeared to be data contained on a book screen. A small but noticeable smirk played at the corner of his lips as he scrolled to the next page, increasing to a full-blown grin as he continued to scan the words.
Jemmiah contented herself with chewing morosely on the end of a stylus, bored beyond all reason.
"Do you want to let me beat you at Sabacc again?" She asked hopefully, tidying a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Not particularly."
"Strip sabacc?" She added with a suggestively raised eyebrow.
Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up from the screen. "Jemmy!" He looked at her aghast. "Absolutely not!"
"Why?"
His brows came together to form a distinct furrow. "Because…it's positively indecent! You are only fourteen years old, and what is more," his face began to colour rapidly much to Jemmy's delight, "I have no wish to see you without any clothing! So stop being silly - and stop pretending to flirt with me! Qui-Gon would have a fit at the very notion of us playing sabacc, strip or otherwise!"
"I'm sure he must have played it." She shrugged off the scandalised expression and the mildly disturbing sensation of Obi-Wan's eyes burning into her as she stood up and paced the floor. "I don't think Quiggy's as innocent as the driven snow. Besides, it's just a game. Unless you don't think I've got a body worth showing off…"
"I'm not listening." Kenobi repeated, swivelling his chair away from her. "You're my friend and sister. I don't care how pretty you've become. And I know you're only teasing me anyway, so you can get back to chewing your stylus," he grinned at her, "and let me get back to reading this story."
But Jemmiah wasn't listening. Instead she was transported with happiness, bounding over to Obi-Wan and clasping her hands together in delight.
"You really think I'm pretty?" She asked, eyes gleaming. "Honestly?"
Obi-Wan peered at her over her shoulder, allowing him a swift up and down glance of Jemmiah's figure. She'd began to shoot up in the last year. Her face had less of the impish, elfin appearance so imprinted on Obi-Wan's mind that sometimes struggled to reconcile himself with the noticeable changes. Her hair no longer hung in a thick plat but in a stylish, loose flowing knot at the back of her head. The creature that stood before him was a young woman, not a little girl…and truth to tell Obi-Wan wasn't terribly certain how best to deal with her.
"Hardly any point in my repeating it," he admitted reluctantly, "when you know it for yourself."
He was rewarded by a large, sisterly - and deliberately sloppy - kiss against his cheek that left a large amount of residue red lip-gloss smeared on his skin.
"You're my favourite Jedi." She beamed at him, standing over the back of his chair and hugging him, nuzzling her chin into the ticklish point where neck met shoulder blade. "Of all the Obi-Wan's that have ever lived you're the best!"
"I'm the only one." He snorted, not knowing with to be flustered or pleased at her playful antics.
"Only one Kenobi…yeah, I know. Heard it before." Jemmy tweaked at his little pigtail and was duly rewarded by a small "owch!" from her companion. "Seriously, I mean it. I read somewhere about alternative universes. Where there's another Qui-Gon and Ben and Jemmy all leading different lives because somewhere they took a different path. Scoff all you want!" She tightened her kittenish embrace, flexing her fingers as if they were felineoid claws set to scrape and pinch should he make a wrong move. "I'm tellin' ya! I read it!"
"Do you believe everything you read?" Obi-Wan asked her pointedly.
Jemmy wrinkled her nose. "Some things. For example, Derry wrote me a note last month saying I was the most beautiful girl at my school." She paused. "I believed him."
"Do not let Qui-Gon catch you with love letters!" Obi-Wan insisted, feeling suddenly perturbed at this hormonally charged inquisitive Jemmiah who still remained draped across the back of his chair. The embrace seemed somewhat less chaste and innocent than it had before, and that made him feel decidedly awkward. Strip sabaac…love letters…Obi-Wan did not want to guess where the conversation would turn next. "I can tell you right now that it will all end in tears. He adores you, Jemmy." The padawan's voice became unexpectedly serious. "He will do all that he can to protect you."
"Against Derry?" She asked scornfully.
"Against yourself."
Jemmiah's face became instantly sulky, almost petulant. Qui-Gon had invited her along on this trip and she was grateful for his attention, but if he was going to start laying down the law about who she could and couldn't see then what was the point of her being granted any freedom at all? Derry was just a silly boy…okay, he wasn't that silly. But he had always been one of the few people who had never actively insulted her or made threats to chop her into tiny bits and feed her to the Reptalons in the zoo. Besides, Derry had an older brother who raced swoops. If she hung around Derry long enough then perhaps she could get a proper introduction to him…
"If Qui-Gon adores me then I wish he would say so." She replied morosely, her hair tickling Obi-Wan's ear as she spoke. "Sometimes he looks at me as if I have six heads and ten tentacles…"
Because he doesn't know how to cope with this new teenage Jemmiah any better than I do. Obi-Wan smiled, knowing how inept his master felt at trying to find a way of treating her like an adult, rather than indulge her as if she were still a child. In Qui-Gon's eyes that was exactly what she remained: a little girl in need of protection from the temptations and horrors of life. Well, he's more or less managed to shield her from the horrors since she came to Coruscant with us, Obi-Wan conceded, But as for temptations it sounds as if she's beginning to discover these for herself. My poor master won't know what's hit him…
"He prefers to show it, rather than say the words." Obi-Wan patted her on the wrist. "As do I."
Jemmiah cooed over him the same way she might an adorable, fluffy flirry-wing in a pet emporium.
"Awww…" She ruffled his spiky hair with her fingers. "That's a lovely thing to say! I think you are the most amazing person in the galaxy."
"This is true." Obi-Wan winked at her. "And don't you forget it."
Pause.
"Sure I can't interest you in the strip Sabacc?"
"Jemmy!" The padawan glared at her.
"Okay, okay…keep your braid on! I'm only teasing you." She gave up trying to picture Obi-Wan without his clothing, deciding it was far too icky a thought anyway even taking natural curiosity into consideration, and started trying to picture Denny's older brother instead. Now that had distinct possibilities, if only she weren't fourteen. On most planets those kind of thoughts tended to get you locked up. Or quite possibly, if Qui-Gon was involved, dismembered…
She looked down at the book screen with a puzzled frown. "What has you so enraptured anyway? I never had you down as a great reader of novels."
"Not as a rule." Admitted Obi-Wan. "But this is utterly riveting. It purports to be some trashy romance…you know, the kind that gets turned into a vomit inducing snooze-fest of a holo picture starring Lyfar Darrington. This however has it all: love, betrayal…disembowelment."
Jemmy's jaw slackened in shock. "Disembowelment?" She repeated.
"And it seems to have been written by a…er, let me see." He looked up at the wide-eyed Corellian. "A Jemmiah Angeline Gleshan!"
"My novel!" Jemmy yelled, making a lunge for the book screen. "You've been reading my story! Give it back this instant you smear of Dianoga sputum!"
"But it's so good!" Obi-Wan grabbed the reading device and danced out of reach. "I especially love the bit where Prince Demnos asks all his courtesans to play strip Sabacc with him…"
"You piece of excrement!" Jemmy hissed at him. "Give it back to me now!" She made a jump, and this time Obi-Wan allowed her to snatch it back from him. "I can't believe you did that! You of all people…I just finished saying how wonderful you are and all the time you're sitting there laughing at me!" The Corellian hugged the book screen to her as if it were some important treasure, just as she might her beloved diary.
"Now, steady on." Obi-Wan slid back out of striking distance. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was looking for something to read and this just happened to be the last thing left on the screen. If you want to make sure that your career as an author remains undetected," he admonished her gently, "you should at least remove the chip from the reading device. Besides, I rather enjoyed it…what I've read of it."
Jemmiah eyed him suspiciously. "Really?" She asked him, her foot tapping in barely concealed annoyance.
"It shows great ingenuity and wit." Replied Obi-Wan soothingly.
"It's not supposed to be a comedy!" Huffed Jemmiah, stalking back to her chair and throwing herself hard against the seat. "You have just killed my fledgling career as an author stone dead! Knocked my confidence to smithereens! Blasted it into oblivion!"
"But I liked it!" Obi-Wan held up his hands in exasperation. "Genuinely! And I'd like to know what happens next…"
"What happens next? I'll tell you what happens…the big-nosed Jedi padawan gets a good, hard kick in the unmentionables, that's what happens!" Snapped Jemmy, quite clearly determined to sulk. She sat there for a while, furious at the way in which Obi-Wan had been able to read her private, innermost thoughts. There had been a great deal of herself poured into her writing which no doubt Obi-Wan would have easily detected, especially if he'd read all the way up to the disembowelment! The humiliation was almost unbearable!
It had started as a silly exercise at school. From that point on a short story had blossomed into something greater, almost to the extent that her diary entries had suffered, becoming shorter and shorter - one compulsion replacing another. She'd never really expected to make a career out of writing in the way that someone like Precious Patooli or Raquel Paris had, but it had been fun. And now Obi-Wan had blundered in and spoiled it. Somehow it seemed like a lot less fun than before.
"So," Obi-Wan asked, "what did happen to Prince whatshisname?"
Jemmiah folded her arms crossly. "I killed him off."
"But why?"
"Because happy endings are so twee! And not remotely realistic." The scowl darkened yet further. "I killed everyone off. Except for the gardener…I liked him too much to kill him."
"Ah, yes. The gardener. He wouldn't have been the one who was based on Derry, by any chance?" Obi-Wan teased back as Jemmy shot back out of her chair and started assailing him with a series of bruising thumps to his upper torso and arm. "Or maybe it was me!"
"In your dreams, you loathsome, disgusting Nerf hurgler!" Jemmy continued to hit him until, looking down at the helplessly laughing Kenobi, she too broke down into tears of laughter. Her arms flailed and sides quaked as Obi-Wan hid his large grin behind a well-placed hand. Typical Obi-Wan! Making her laugh when she most wanted to murder him! Did he know the effect his gleeful chortling would have on her?
Of course he does. She realised with a sigh. He's not stupid.
"What on Coruscant is a Nerf hurgler?" Obi-Wan chuckled, fending off her now a half-hearted attempt to land blows against him by playfully grabbing at her wrists. "Or do I not want to know?"
"A hurgler is a Corellian word for someone who has a fondness for…no, actually I'd better not say it out loud. I might embarrass myself." She glowered at him. "Don't think I've forgotten that you read my novel without my permission!"
"I don't think I can forget it either." Obi-Wan struck a pose, throwing himself into the role of the Prince with considerable enthusiasm. "Alas, my love…we are not destined to be together. For my father has chosen a bride for me…one with an artificial leg and one glass eye! But at least when she chases me round the bedroom I should be able to run faster than her…"
"I liked that part." Jemmiah giggled.
"But," Obi-Wan continued, twirling at his invisible moustache in a caddish way, "let us make the most of this moment and use it to the full..." He grabbed Jemmy's hands theatrically and tipped her backward over his knee, whilst she pretended to swoon in delirium, "and play one final round of strip Sabacc!"
It was at that moment that Obi-Wan became acutely aware of the small figure gawking at the open door. Jemmiah, sensing the way the padawan's body had tensed glanced up at almost the same moment in time to see a clearly bewildered Mortimer blinking his astonishment at the little scene played out before him.
"Hi." Jemmy smiled weakly at him.
"Er…Master Jinn wants to er, see you," he nodded at Jemmiah, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot as he did so, "and he also…er, wondered if I might…he said that I could…if you have the time to spare…" He gestured incoherently with his fingers. "I, er…think that…I'll just come back when you're not busy…"
And with that he turned and nervously slunk away.
"Great," Jemmy pulled a disgusted face, "Well, I suppose he had to learn the truth at some point."
"Truth?" Queried Obi-Wan, looking down on her.
"That if he comes with us he'll be trading one lunatic in for another…"