Qui-Gon lay, with his eyes closed, deep in thought.

He was turning over in his mind all the problems that might arise were he to take Mortimer back home with them to Coruscant. He was thinking of all the head-shaking and eye rolling that Mace and the rest of the Jedi council would resort to when he returned with another unfortunate waif in tow. Most of all he was thinking about the methods the council might employ in order to get Freyya Edritch to leave her bolt hole on T'sanzi and seek the help she undoubtedly needed…

Of course he could simply choose not to report the problem and leave Mortimer and Freyya to carry on with their lives undisturbed, but that would leave the way open for the boy's master to further abuse the force. And of course, sooner or later - just as Freyya had feared - someone would find them. Someone who might be less understanding and less willing to help. Who could say for certain?

His thoughts were disturbed by a tentative knock on the side of the open door, and when he glanced up he could see Jemmiah peering furtively around the wall. Her posture revealed her uncertainty and fear of confrontation whilst deep inside Qui-Gon could sense a stubborn determination not to let him get the better of her this time. There was a storm brewing, but Qui-Gon at least was prepared to let it pass as gently as possible.

"Come in." He gestured with his hand at the seat Mortimer had vacated a couple of minutes previously. "And shut the door whilst you're at it. I don't see why either Obi-Wan or young Mortimer should be privy to our sparring matches."

Jemmiah did as she was told, although she stopped short of sitting in the seat: preferring to stand and strike a suitably defiant pose into the bargain. This of course forced Qui-Gon to push himself into a half-sitting position to enable him to see her without being at an obvious disadvantage. So it had come to this, had it? Scoring points off each other the same way that her uncle Kelik might? Was this what she had learned on her last trip to Corellia?

"So you can move again? That's good, I guess." She didn't sound terribly enthusiastic, especially given the way that he was staring at her lip-gloss! "Look, I don't want a sparring match." Jemmiah frowned at him, her teeth working relentlessly at some piece of 'bright gum' in the hope that it might lend her a more 'devil-may-care' attitude. "I'm not interested in fighting with you. All I want is to get back home to Coruscant and see Evla again."

Qui-Gon felt his spirits begin to fail. "Have you not enjoyed your time with Obi-Wan and myself?" He asked, feeling disappointed that his efforts to take a more active role in her life had seemingly gone wide of the target.

"I've loved it!" Jemmiah blurted out before she could stop herself. "I've loved almost every moment of it. It's been fun and interesting and involving. I know how much you've tried to include me in everything even although the trip's been about Obi-Wan's training…I've even enjoyed watching all the exercises you've given him! Especially when that shoal of fish kept following him around. Must have been the smell of his feet."

"Almost every minute? What didn't you like?" Wondered Qui-Gon, trying to think where he might possibly have lost points.

"Hmm." Jemmy tapped at the side of her face as if agonising over the question. "Let's think about it, shall we? Maybe it has something to do with you almost getting blasted into the next life by a maniac boy armed with the biggest kriffin' gun you've ever seen?"

"Don't swear, Tangles." Qui-Gon frowned. "It's on this very matter that I wanted to speak to you."

"Argue with me, most likely." Countered the Corellian girl with an imperious toss of her head. "Well, I don't care what you say. I wasn't about to sit back and see you get fried, was I?"

Qui-Gon stared up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. "It was a foolhardy risk to your own life. You gambled that Mortimer wasn't prepared to shoot you…and it's not the sort of wager worth making, not with stakes like that. I won't have you throwing your life away on a pointless gesture."

Jemmiah felt the blood beginning to boil in her veins even although she was making a conscious effort to control her temper. Her hands balled against her hips and it was only after counting to five that she felt sufficiently calm to argue back without wanting to scream and hit her fist against the wall.

"I have lost so many friends to guns," she replied with a tremulous voice, "and I wasn't prepared to lose another one. Is that wrong? To want to keep you from harm?"

Qui-Gon was quick to note that the lecture had been neatly turned on its head. With a quick piece of smart-talking Jemmiah had managed to reverse the conversation so that it now looked as if he was the one being reprimanded for his behaviour, not the other way around.

"I am not important." The master shook his head. "This collection of old bones is not worth dying for, Jemmiah."

"I happen to love that collection of old bones!" Jemmiah protested, hands on hips. "Next time you tell me off for making pointless, heroic gestures you might care to remember that!"

He didn't exactly know what to say in reply. As a person who was private and guarded against admitting how she felt Jemmiah's confession took him a little by surprise. It was at that point Qui-Gon realised that he too hadn't been as forthcoming with his own declarations of affection over the years as perhaps he should have in his capacity as guardian. Sometimes the need to be a Jedi warred terribly with his role of parent…

I'm out of practice. Qui-Gon realised with a guilty start. The truth is that I have allowed Evla to express all the necessary declarations of love in my stead, and now I find it ridiculously awkward to do the same…

"Thank you." He allowed himself a genuine smile of gratitude. "The feelings are more than reciprocated. I have perhaps been lax in telling you as much over the last few years. When Evla took over as your main guardian," he hesitated, trying to find the right words, "I maybe got out of the habit of telling you…of showing you that I still cared…"

Jemmiah shrugged. "It's not your fault. I've put it down to the Jedi being emotional cripples, so I never made that big a deal of it."

"I think I should resent that." Qui-Gon fixed unblinking eyes upon her. "But somehow I don't have the inclination to challenge it. As far as what happened on the beach is concerned, I will let the subject drop - with one proviso. That you promise me nothing like this will ever happen again…that you will never risk your life senselessly on my behalf."

"I wouldn't have called it senseless!" Jemmy pouted, stopping short of stamping her foot against the floor. "I would have called it darned brave!"

"Your bravery is not in question. Nor has it ever been." Qui-Gon nodded respectfully at Jemmiah, graciously conceding her point. "But bravery is no consolation to Evla or I if all it gets you is a berth on a mortuary slab. So," he allowed himself to lean back against the wall content that he had made his point, "do you promise to take more care before rushing in to situations without due thought?"

Jemmiah nodded. "Yes Qui-Gon." She agreed.

"And do you give me your word that you will not pull a stunt like that again?"

"No, Qui-Gon." She replied blithely.

"What?"

"I said no. Sorry Quiggy." She apologised, back tracking towards the door. "My life is mine to do what I want with. And if I think saving your hide is worthwhile, I'll kriffing well do it again, pardon my vile Corellian tongue."

"Jemmiah…" He growled at her.

"I shall do what I must. Isn't that what you keep saying?" She challenged him, deliberately adopting his gestures and standing in a typical Qui-Gon pose, legs slightly apart. "Maybe if you didn't keep ending up in situations where I needed to put my neck on the line we'd both be happier for it! You," she stabbed a finger straight at him, "attract misfortune! Always have done, always will do. And you know what? I think you relish it!"

Qui-Gon opened and closed his mouth as if considering denying the allegations, but never quite managed to do so.

"See? I knew it! You and Obi-Wan both…it's not possible for you to go on simple, boring missions is it? Everything has to be a crisis or a drama! Trouble sticks to you like a flea to a Tauntaun's belly! I sometimes think Ben's at risk of losing limbs just getting out of bed in the morning. Have you any idea how distressing it is for me? No? Have you even thought about it?"

She turned on one heel and marched towards the door. What Qui-Gon didn't see as she placed her hand against the opening mechanism was the large, crooked smile that continued to grow whilst the Corellian marched away, her back still to him.

"Tangles!" Qui-Gon protested, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. "Please wait a moment…"

Jemmiah continued to walk away but slowed her pace a fraction to allow him to catch up. She could hear him jog a few steps down the corridor before he too slowed his gait to match hers.

"Tangles, look…I'm sorry if this has upset you."

Well, it seemed she still had it! Even if he rarely brought himself to say the words it appeared he still cared enough to want to apologise: she could still bend him to her will. Shoozer, she'd trained him well!

"Apology accepted." She smirked smugly back at him. "Now, what say you we get something to eat, huh? Watching you nearly get murdered always gives me an appetite."

"Look, Jemmiah. I didn't try to get myself shot." Qui-Gon insisted.

"I know." She agreed pleasantly, knowing she had the upper hand. "You'd think you'd manage to sense some kind of danger, though. Seeing as how you are the rough, tough Jedi master of legend…"

"I'm not perfect, Tangles. Even I can't be infallible." He tried his best not to sound hurt. "Let's change the subject, shall we? What do you think of Mortimer?"

Jemmiah stopped dead in her tracks and fixed him with an unblinking stare.

"He seems okay." She shrugged. "I suppose of all the people who've tried to kill you he'd rank amongst my favourites, yes…"

Qui-Gon groaned out loud. "I thought we'd sorted this…I'm really sorry that I frightened you."

"That's okay." Agreed Jemmiah, hooking her arm through his. "I understand that even you have 'stupid days' as well."

As they walked into the small kitchen galley it occurred to Qui-Gon that, as he had predicted to Mortimer, he had indeed ended up apologising for something she had done.

But strangely enough, for that all too brief moment in which they could set aside Jedi issues and feel like a normal family unit…he didn't care.

Obi-Wan found Mortimer sitting against the airlock door, knees pulled up to his chest, in many ways mirroring Jemmiah's earlier defensive gesture. It was difficult not to feel some unhappiness at his predicament: either way the young man was faced with a most unenviable choice. Leave behind everything he had ever known, his master included? And for what? To go where? Some Agri-Corps planet to help raise crops and tend fields? When he considered that this had nearly been his own fate Obi-Wan allowed his sense of pity to get the better of him, and hunkered down on his haunches next to the boy.

"I wouldn't get into the habit of doing that." He nodded at the door. "That's the airlock. Harmless enough whilst stationary on a planet's surface but somewhat detrimental to a long and healthy life span if attempted in mid-flight."

"Oh." Mortimer looked over his shoulder. "I didn't know…I've never been onboard a ship, not that I can remember at least. Thank you for the warning. I'll bear it in mind if I decide to…" He allowed his words to fade into nothingness.

"Stay?" Obi-Wan finished for him. Mortimer nodded slowly, clearly undecided as to what he should do. "Look, I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot. But for what it is worth I think there are two arguments to reconcile here. Firstly," he paused long enough to make sure he had Mortimer's full attention, "what is best for yourself, and secondly what is best for everyone else."

Puzzlement clouded Mortimer's green eyes. He tilted his head fractionally to one side like a curious cannoid, waiting for Obi-Wan to continue his explanation.

"My master is fond of saying that nothing happens by chance. And he's right: there's no such thing as luck. You could interpret our arrival here as misfortune, but equally it could be the will of the force that you return with us to Coruscant. Do you think," Obi-Wan sat down on the floor next to Mortimer, "that - removing your master from the equation for a moment - it is in your best interests to come with us?"

Mortimer nodded emphatically. "There would be nothing to keep me here were that the case. Yes, I would leave in a heartbeat."

"And," Obi-Wan continued, "if you are afraid of what you are becoming, is it not your duty to remove yourself from the cause of that negative influence? You have skills and abilities that could help others. It would be a terrible crime to see them be used for malign purposes. If you come with us you have a chance…"

But Mortimer wasn't stupid for all that he was naive and un-worldly. He knew enough about the workings of the Jedi temple from his master to know that those who didn't come up to their rigorous standards and flouted the code came in for censure, and those not deemed worthy were set aside. Freyya had told him of the children who never got a chance to unleash their full potential: the ones sent away…out of sight and out of mind. Why take them from their parents and then abandon them to fate? It didn't make sense…

"If I come with you it seems likely that I won't be allowed to stay at the temple." Mortimer rested his chin gloomily against his knees. "My master told me they don't allow children over thirteen to be trained as Jedi. I've already turned fourteen."

"You do have a better chance in some respects." Obi-Wan smiled quietly, trying to boost the boy's confidence. "You have been trained in the Jedi ways from birth! You have in fact received more training and attention on a one-to-one basis than most Jedi your age would expect to get, so in some ways you are already ahead of those your age."

"But I've had training that is flawed…" Mortimer swallowed noisily. "I have a master who never made it to full knighthood…"

Obi-Wan stared at him sharply. That would indeed possibly sway the council against allowing Mortimer to stay: padawans could not train padawans. It was part of the code. It only served to heighten his curiosity: what was an apprentice doing with a force sensitive baby in the first place? Was the child her own, perhaps? Was this the secret she had supposedly run from for so long? And if that was the case was there any benefit to be had in separating a mother and her child?

Qui-Gon would think of Mortimer first, whilst sparing a considerate thought for Freyya under the difficult circumstances. Obi-Wan likewise would side with his master. But Jemmiah…she was Corellian, and family loyalty played a big part of the Corellian psyche. She had lost her own mother at an early age and so her sympathy might tend towards Freyya, unlike her Jedi companions.

"I cannot say what might happen." Obi-Wan admitted with a delicate sigh. "I would be lying if I said otherwise. There is a strong possibility that the council might not permit you to continue your training at the temple. On the other hand, there are other options. There are Jedi retreats on certain planets, and they might suggest that you assist there…or there is always…er…"

"The Agri-Corps?" Mortimer chewed dejectedly at his lower lip. "I'm not sure that I could become a farmer. I like helping things to get better but I'm not sure that really extends to helping seeds to germinate quickly!"

Obi-Wan patted Mortimer once on the shoulder. "I know the feeling! But in truth, the Jedi have no authority over you at all. You have not been raised at the temple. If they didn't grant you permission to stay there would be nothing to stop you from going wherever you wanted to. Perhaps even working in a regular infirmary?"

Mortimer's eyes gleamed at the thought: it was so tempting to think that a goal like that might be attainable! But his master…always it came back down to Freyya. It broke his heart to think of her searching the whole planet for him, perhaps even injuring herself again. Who would heal her if she slipped and fell a second time? He'd been so sure he'd lost her before, as he sat for hour upon hour, day after day tending to her and begging the force to spare his master. Above all things Mortimer did not want to be alone.

And that was what he was condemning his master to were he to leave.

Yet Obi-Wan's words had brought him a little centre of clarity in an otherwise whirlwind, turbulent mind. The Jedi held the consideration of others to be of great importance, far greater than their own needs and emotions. By leaving now he might avoid the unnecessary suffering that the unwary visitors to T'sanzi underwent at the hands of his master. Whatever Freyya Edritch's secret, Mortimer felt certain that he was at the heart of it. She had protected him like a Rantiil tiger might her cub, with that same fierce determination and maternal drive. Everything she had done, good or bad, had been done for him. Now, were he to remove himself from her presence she would have no reason to 'defend' their freedom.

He tried to picture his master with a smile on her face - thin lipped but genuine for all that - and found himself thinking instead of the bright, radiant grin of the Corellian girl.

Mortimer blinked back his surprise.

"Are you and your master typical of the Jedi?" He wondered, his sandy brows arching quizzically. "You both seem…I don't know. You walk half a pace behind him."

"A question of observing the common decencies." Obi-Wan replied, full of admiration for Mortimer's observational skills. "And a matter of respect more than anything. Besides which, I can watch Qui-Gon's back more readily if I'm half there already."

"And," Mortimer gulped, "the er…your er…you know. Your friend…"

"Jemmiah?" Obi-Wan scratched amusedly at his chin. "What of her?"

"I didn't think the Jedi had relationships. My master said that entanglements were frowned upon." There seemed a strange mixture of hope, uncertainty…even excitement within his eyes. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Obi-Wan guffawed so loudly that it took Mortimer completely aback.

"By all the stars!" He exclaimed. "Jemmiah and myself? She is only fourteen years of age! Besides which…"

Mortimer grinned, his heart racing. "Oh, that's okay then. I was wondering if she might like to get to know me a little better. I mean, I've never seen anyone quite so lovely…come to think of it, I've never seen anyone at all. Fourteen years on a planet with only your master for company is quite incredible when you think about it." Now in his enthusiasm Mortimer's tongue at last appeared to have come unstuck. "I often wondered what it might be like to have a friend to talk to. Maybe even a female friend…you know. I think your Jemmiah's quite pretty…at least guess she is. I've not got anyone to compare it with other than my master and you don't really think of your master in that way. But your friend is just so warm and happy and friendly…it's like being greeted by a dazzling sunrise in the morning! When she smiled at me I got this incredible feeling…"

"She's my sister." Obi-Wan finished.

Mortimer met the padawan's gaze, and mouthed the word "oh" in a distinctly disappointed fashion. Did Jedi have family, he wondered? He was sure that his master had said that was pretty much taboo as well.

"Jemmiah came to stay with us in similar circumstances to which you now find yourself. We took her from a difficult and dangerous situation, but she found the determination to start a new life with us. The Jedi made her a special case and granted her sanctuary within the temple." Obi-Wan stretched his leg, aware of the pins and needles beginning to assault his numbed limb. "My master is her co-guardian, and as such makes her morally if not actually my sister. We both like to try and watch over her." It was said in a tone that implied a mild warning. "Although that is becoming increasingly challenging the older she becomes."

"So if I get to stay at the temple, she'll be there too?" Asked Mortimer with eagerness that Obi-Wan felt certain boded ill for the future.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Does this mean you've decided to come with us?"

Somehow, without realising it, Mortimer's hands stopped shaking. What had seemed moments before a matter of considerable agony had been smoothed away with reassuring words and the memory of a pretty smile. The turmoil had gone, and the centre of calm had spread to engulf the whole of his mind. All he had ever hoped for in life was respect, the chance to be good at what he did, and perhaps make a few friends along the way. Now, in the cold light of day, Mortimer knew what the force was telling him.

"Yes." He allowed his shoulders to slump in relief, as if a weight had been removed from them. "I'll come with you."

They had left almost immediately.

Mortimer was not a sentimental person: living virtually on his own for so long he'd been given very little to become sentimental about. Yet he found himself surprisingly melancholic as T'sanzi disappeared from sight, and with it the only home he'd ever known. And Freyya, his only tutor…

Jemmiah had lost count of the number of times he'd sighed, and began to find herself sighing along with him. She understood what he was feeling better than Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon, for all their Jedi insight. Maybe, when he'd gotten used to the whole space travel thing, she'd take him to one side and offer him a shoulder to cry on. Right now he looked more likely to up-chuck all over it, given his distinctly peaky looking complexion…

"You're not good with flying, are you?" She asked with a sympathetic grimace. "I know what that's like. Scare's the fleg out of me!"

Mortimer looked up at her, glassy eyed. "I don't know why I feel like this. It's as smooth as a river stone…no jolting or juddering. I just feel queasy."

"I'm no too fond of flying, myself." Admitted Jemmiah. "Every time the ship makes an unexpected noise I keep expecting it to drop like a stone and crash. I was in a ship that was shot down once." She explained to Mortimer, whose interest appeared suddenly to have been stimulated. Thoughts of his own master were temporarily pushed aside in the wake of such an exciting revelation.

"Really?" He leaned forward across the table. "What happened? Were you hurt?"

Jemmiah stopped playing with the food on her fork, putting the piece of cutlery back into the container. Her crash landing on Nargotria wasn't amongst her favourite memories. It had been the moment in which her existence had changed forever and not exactly for the better. Not until Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had entered her life…

"I was travelling with my family. I think it was a vacation that my Uncle had paid for as a birthday present to my mother. We'd visited lots of places, although I can't really remember them now. I was only five at the time." She apologised, seeing Mortimer eagerly about to ask her for details. The idea of a vacation, of seeing other planets and visiting different environs, was completely new to him. There was so much he didn't know about the galaxy! How he was ever going to fit in on Coruscant she shuddered to think. "And then we hired a ship to take us back to Corellia…and we got attacked."

"Attacked?" Mortimer frowned.

"Knocked out of the skies by pirates. We crashed on a planet called Nargotria. I wasn't really hurt, just frightened. But my mother had been knocked out by the accident and my brother…" She stopped, not wanting to dig further into the horrific memories of that which had followed. "My brother was killed. So were the crew."

Mortimer looked abashed at his earlier enthusiasm. "I'm so sorry. " He mumbled, not sure what else to say. "W-what about you? Were you rescued?"

Jemmiah gave a bitter bark of laughter. "Oh, yes. We were 'rescued' alright."

Naive as he was Mortimer had enough savvy to know when not to pursue what was clearly a painful topic. He remained curiously torn between wanting to squirm under a table and hide, allowing Jemmiah to get control of her quietly simmering grief, and wanting to reach across and pull her into a comforting hug. Neither was really an option considering the first would make him look decidedly odd and the second might not exactly go down well with Jemmiah - or indeed her guardians.

"I live with the Jedi now." She smiled in brittle fashion at Mortimer. "Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rescued me from a living hell. They are my family…and the temple is my safe haven. I owe them so much…" She began to twist the fork once more around amidst the strands of pasta. "I was scared to leave my old life even although it was frightening and degrading, because I had to start all over again. I didn't know anyone or anything. I had no proper schooling. I felt so stupid most of the time…little things that people would take for granted like knowing how to work comlinks were beyond me to begin with. And the kids in my school hated me for being different to them." Jemmiah pushed her fork around in the sauce, making a figure of eight pattern in the carton. "I just wanted to say…I know what it's like. If things get difficult for you and you need to talk just let me know. Sometimes it helps to speak to someone that has the same perspective that you have."

And who had she to confide in? Her diary. A machine that stored away memories of her life, her dreams, her fears…good times and bad. There had been no such person there for her to talk to. Soul healers were so clinical; people who understood why things happened to make a person the way they were, but couldn't see past their own Jedi training to truly feel with their heart. There were things that she needed to confide in her diary that she would frankly rather die before confessing to Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, for all their love. Evla was the closest thing to a soul mate that she had: a beloved friend and guardian, but Jemmiah was so afraid of losing her respect that she couldn't bring herself to open her thoughts to her either.

At least Mortimer wouldn't have that problem. He seemed resilient and quietly determined to make the best of a bad situation, not to mention in need of a good friend.

Mortimer responded by blushing to his roots. "Thanks." He said awkwardly. "That's kind of you."

Jemmiah smiled inwardly. The poor boy was going to be such fun to tease! He'd never even set eyes on a girl other than his master…no wonder if he turned red whenever she looked at him. Well, if Obi-Wan was no fun to torment then at least poor innocent Mortimer might make better sport. There was so much he hadn't seen or done…he hadn't even eaten a Takkini chip! No Corellian junk food on T'sanzi! How had he survived? Educating him was going to be a riot of fun!

"What do you think of the food?" She asked him, frowning down at the pasta strands in their garish orange coloured sauce. Jemmiah had not expected her answer to be greeted with such an overwhelming level of enthusiasm, but Mortimer's face appeared at that moment to be transported with delight.

"Oh, it's amazing!" He grinned, scraping up the last of the sauce with a spoon. "I've never tasted anything like it before! What is it?"

"It's just reconstituted pasta." Jemmy wrinkled her nose. "It's not even proper food! Shoozer, if that's what you're like with all these preservatives and things just wait until you try real food! What did you eat when you were on T'sanzi?"

Mortimer sighed. "Animals, mostly. And some edible plants that we found growing wild."

"Animals?" Jemmiah looked at him aghast. "You mean you killed your own food?"

"Well, as they didn't actually come marching up to our door demanding to be eaten," Mortimer quipped cheekily back at her, "I'm afraid so! It's not like I enjoyed having to kill things," he added hurriedly as Jemmiah grimaced in distaste, "I…I used to stun them with the force before I…you know." He swallowed, sensing his Corellian companion restlessly shifting about in her chair. "I didn't want to chase them or scare them. I tried to be as humane as possible…"

"So that's where the stun technique you used on Quiggy came from?" She asked him, twirling a strand of her hair enticingly in her fingers. "I sure hope you weren't planning to eat him!"

Mortimer shook his head. "No, he'd just get stuck in my teeth!"

Jemmiah laughed, tossing her head backwards and sending her wavy hair alluringly over her shoulders. This time Mortimer sighed again, but it was no longer thoughts of his master or memories of home that afflicted his heart.

The Corellian winked at him. "I like you, Mortimer. You make me laugh." She fluttered her lashes at him, just for good measure. "I think we can teach each other a lot."

And with that disconcerting thought she stood up and wiggled her way out of the doorway towards her own cabin, with Mortimer's eyes following after her every step of the way.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of that last statement. Was it a declaration of friendship? Yes, that was it. Then why did he feel decidedly excited? Why was his heart thumping fit to burst against his chest? But at least he had a friend now, after fourteen years alone with only his master to speak to. And such an achingly lovely friend, too! Mortimer found himself hoping that Jemmiah would come back so that they could talk some more. ...

Then his eyes alighted on the half-eaten remains of the pasta in the container she had been eating from.

"If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." Mortimer told himself as he began to dig into the pasta and transfer it to his own container. "And I love this food!"

Thus relegating both Jemmiah and his master to the back of his mind, Mortimer found himself savouring a whole new experience: the delights of the pre-packaged convenience meal.