How could anyone stand to wear these outfits? The high, white collar was pinching right into the skin just under his jaw. Tight and stiff, the tailoring was more concerned with creating sharp lines and cutting silhouettes than practicality and comfort. He'd already tested his range of movement with a few simple Ataru stances, and found he could barely raise his hands above his shoulders without the risk of bursting a seam. And that's not even touching on the trousers; cinched so tight around the waist and crotch that he was frightened they'd split open at the slightest movement.

"I actually think this thing is trying to choke me to death."

Obi-Wan shot Anakin a look from the corner of his eye. His apprentice was fidgeting, tugging at his shirt and cuffs. The ridiculous hat he was wearing - a tilted thing that curved around his head like a black sail - partially concealed the right side of his face. Around them, men in similar suits sauntered past with elegantly dressed women on their arms. A band, discreetly tucked away in a corner of the casino, blared out a snappy tune. Triumphant cheers and morose cries echoed around them, offset by popping corks and the jingle of credits hitting the betting tables. Canto Bight was a sensory overload - the playground of the richest and most odious people in all the Galaxy. It was also, if his hunch was correct, the current residence of their missing Dug Councillor; they just had to convincingly blend in for long enough to find him.

"Stop squirming, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered, voice low enough to be nearly lost in the din. His padawan's hands dropped from where he was tugging at his jewel-encrusted cravat. "Remember, you are impersonating someone born into this sort of refinery - not being mummified alive by it."

"Is there a difference?" Anakin muttered. On any other occasion, Obi-Wan would be admonishing his apprentice for the glare of deep disdain he was bestowing on everyone - and everything - around them. However, combined with his attire, it only added a layer of contemptuous affluence to his padawan's boyish face.

"Perhaps not," Obi-Wan replied, chuckling at the thought. "Still, it's all about embodying a character."

"And what character are you playing, Master?"

"I'm a handsome and charming Duke," Obi-Wan said, not bothering to contain his smirk before starting his descent down the gilded stairway to the casino's main floor. "Who just so happens to have a very keen interest in finding a certain Doge Knuqat, delivering him back to Malastare alive, and then returning home to Coruscant as soon as possible."

"That's not exactly acting," Anakin noted.

"Well - the being a Duke part is."

A female Ikototchi passed them on the stairs, white dress billowing behind her, the pale curve of her horns carved and inlaid with glittering jewels. She gave him a long look - from his polished shoes right up to his quaffed hair - appreciation etched into every line of her face. Obi-Wan tipped his head in acknowledgment, not breaking his stride. "Now, remember the plan. You need to focus on listening and blending into the surroundings. Move around the room, observe the gamblers and keep an ear out for any mention of our missing Dug, but make it look natural...and Anakin-" his Apprentice's head whipped up from where he's been glowering at his cuff sleeves "-no using the Force to cheat! The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better, understand?"

"Yes Master."

"Good. Now you go that way," he said, nodding towards the bank of chance machines on the far side of the room, "and I'll loop around and meet you in the middle. If you pick up on anything, come find me."

"Alright."

They branched off at the bottom of the staircase, Obi-Wan splitting to the right while Anakin quickly blended into the milling crowds in the opposite direction. Weaving between the scarlet tables, he paused every now and then to watch the roll of a dice or the flip of a credit chit. A ripple in the Force warned him seconds before a deep snarl ripped through the air behind him, shortly followed by a serving droid sent flying overhead. An angry Bothian, obviously sore over his losses, was quickly hustled out of the room by security a few seconds later. Laughing bodies filled his vacant spot at the table.

Stopping at a Kiughfid game, Obi-Wan watched the dealer flip cards at lightning speeds even his own sharp eyes struggled to track. This would do as a starting point. The minimum bet was two thousand credits, and it galled him to see towering stacks - a whole lifetime's worth of earnings for your average Galactic citizen - nonchalantly tossed down as an opening gambit. In places such as this, your status was often established in the eyes of your peers, not by the amount of credits won, but by how much you could lose without care. Beside him, a dark green Vurk piled a bundle of iridescent Calamari Flan on the table. Across from him, a beautiful obsidian-skinned Sakiyan leaned over to place her own bet, silver eyes fixed on Obi-Wan. The slow smile that curled her plump, painted lips was laden with promise. He returned it, trying his best to feign a similar interest. Obi-Wan had often found mild flirtation to be an effective tool for blending in, especially in situations such as this, although it often came with its own set of hazards to navigate. The Sakiyan drew a hand down her shimmering white silk dress, trailing a seductive path from the sharp lines of her exposed clavicle down to the pointed curve of her hip.

Obi-Wan thought of Emily.

The Sakiyan's angular frame reminded him of when she was at her most painfully thin. Back then, he'd worried over every jutting bone and hollow dip that had pushed and pressed up under her fragile, scarred skin. The slow transformation of Emily's body as it had filled out and softened, flushing gentle sunset pinks and peach beneath the spray of golden freckles across her cheeks or welling up through a bottom lip absentmindedly bitten in concentration, had been nothing short of mesmerizing. Her personality, though: all sharp wit and indomitable spirit and sheer single-minded stubbornness - that had remained the same from the moment she'd first woken up in that bright, sterile decontamination room beside him. Now, just the thought of a few days trapped back in there with Emily, nothing but the grey walls and hard beds and waking up to her sleeping face across from him, was as close to paradise as Obi-Wan could imagine. And no amount of wealth - not even all the trillions of hoarded credits callously flittered away on this decadent planet - could buy even a second of the time he'd spent with her. So much money surrounded him, and absolutely nothing of value could be found.

"I would consider it rude to stare at me so, if it weren't such pretty eyes doing the staring."

Obi-Wan was pulled out his thoughts to see that the Sakiyan had rounded the table, and was now standing beside him, one narrow hip resting languidly against the table while she gave him her full, assessing attention.

"My sincerest apologies," he replied, quickly pulling himself back into character. He smoothed on his smile and focussed instead on the peaked ridges lining the woman's forehead and the sharp bladed point of her ears. "I'm afraid that in the face of such beauty, I momentarily forgot my manners. Would you perhaps allow me to regain them, by allowing me to order you a drink?"

Her smile widened, showing a sharp row of serrated teeth. "And what if I have different ideas on how you can apologise to me?"

"Ah," Obi-Wan found himself momentarily at a loss. Talk about a quick escalation. He had to play this very carefully; the last time he'd been in a similar situation, he had found himself on the receiving end of a very angry Koorivar father and his equally disappointed daughter. He even had to use some of the Temple's funds as recompense for a hastily purchased wedding horn chain. He still flushed with guilt when he thought about it. "Well then, I'm sure I would be delighted to hear any and all thoughts you may have on the subject, Ms…?"

"Salvarmyn." She extended out her hand, each elongated finger dripping with gemstones. Obi-Wan let his lips briefly brush against her inner wrist. A Sakiyan would have nipped the skin to show sexual interest, but he was hoping she'd think him oblivious to such cultural intimacies. "And yours?"

"Kaenth. Duke Benjin Kaenth of Shu-Torun." Salvarmyn gave a throaty laugh in response.

"Isn't every third person a Duke on Shu-Torun?"

Obi-Wan allowed himself a chuckle. It was the exact reason why he'd chosen that planet when coming up with his character. "True. Yet I hope I am somewhat more distinguished than most."

"Hmmm that you certainly are," she mused, eyes roaming the tailored length of his body as she shifted closer. "I've decided on how you can apologise to me for your impropriety."

"Oh?"

"I will, generously, allow you to buy me dinner."

"I would be honoured," Obi-Wan replied, before bowing and offering his arm. Her dark skin gleamed midnight blue under the casino lights as she hooked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Salvarmyn would be an ideal person to gently probe for possible information on their missing Councillor. A beautiful woman would inevitably draw a certain amount of interest in a place like this, and this Sakiyan, in particular, seemed to have a keen awareness of her surroundings. Hopefully, she may be able to unknowingly point them in the right direction. He led her through the throngs of gamblers towards the dining gallery, eyes and senses discretely scanning for Anakin. He could feel the faint hint of his presence coming from the balconies overlooking the racetracks. Obi-Wan hoped he was following a lead out there, and not just enjoying the fathier racing. Animal or machine; if it was fast, it would usually draw Anakin's full attention.

That's when he heard it.

Laughter.

The sound of it stopped him dead in his tracks, Salvarmyn jerking back on unsteady feet. It was impossible - she couldn't be here.

"What is it?" Salvarmyn asked, but he was too busy focussing to answer, pushing out to the very edge of his senses for just the barest hint of her presence. People buzzed like faint little lights around him, Anakin glowing like a nebula on the periphery, but there was no brush of that familiar off-key warmth, the out-of-tune hum that echoed in harmony with something deep inside himself. There was nothing. He'd heard her though, the sound of her voice was graven on his bones; he'd recognise it when all else was faded and gone. Another burst of laughter, bubbling and wild, and he was heedlessly pushing through the crowds in that direction.

Sabaac tables gave way to a large lounge area, the walls surrounding the brocade seats lined with five-meter tall screens. The bright gleam of podracers whizzed around the room. Mechanical Nuna-ball players chased their fleeing quarry. Chin-bret teams clashed on bright green sobaturf fields.

'So, what did you think of your first Thranta ride?'

'Well, my heart didn't explode in my chest, and I didn't slide off its wing to my death so...pretty amazing. Hope it won't be my last time. They're absolutely magnificent animals and it was a privilege to ride one.'

Emily's face took up one small screen tucked away in the corner, a few of the others showing news clips from around the Galaxy. Her face was flushed bright red, colour high on her cheeks. Whisps of flyaway curls brushed over her face and tangled in her eyelashes. She was breathless and grinning, stood on a mountain edge with the sky behind her filled with the swooping shape of Thrantas gliding through the endless blue.

The picture changed to another clip of Emily. She was on a beach, piling wet sand up into odd shapes with little younglings all around her, their tiny hands patting coloured shells into the makeshift structures. Obi-Wan found himself nearly pressed up against the holoimage.

Her skin.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

The blue bathing suit was modest, but it didn't cover her arms and legs. Perfect, pale skin shone under the blazing sun, where the twisted ruin of scars once lived. Even the smaller, raised marks on her face were gone, their absence somehow made more obvious by the spaces her freckles were yet to grow into. And underneath that fresh, unblemished topography, a new strength was revealed. Muscles shifted along her back, flexed in smooth thighs cushioned in sand. Obi-Wan had never seen Emily look so healthy, so unashamedly happy. The screen flickered again, and she was now standing in a factory of some sort. People crowded around her, a few of them even hugging her, and Emily's body language was so relaxed and playful as she chatted and joked. In the background of every image, Pei could be seen lingering, an ever-present and watchful shadow.

Alderaan. She was on Alderaan. Why? How? Bail Organa could be seen, drinking blue liquid from a fluted glass, and choking down on a laugh at something Pei said to him. Had Organa invited her there? Why hadn't Emily told him?

So much had happened. So much had changed. It had only been three months, but it looked like he'd missed out on whole chapters of Emily's life. He'd never thought - never imagined for a moment - that he wouldn't be there for when she underwent her operation. For the first time she'd travel into space. Step foot on another planet. Had she been scared? Or was it like all the other times she'd discovered something new; the rush of adrenaline lighting a spark in her eyes, setting a giddy tremor through her body till it jittered and bounced out the soles of her feet? Had she thought of him? Wanted him beside her? Next to her was the only place in the whole galaxy that he wanted to be.

"Desperate to gamble on Gravball? You don't seem the type." A hand smoothed over his shoulder, and he had to fight back the impulse to shrug it off.

"No...no I thought I heard the voice of someone I know." Obi-Wan shifted just enough to keep Salvarmyn in his sightline. Ultimately, though, his eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the images on the screen. Emily was now at some sort of party, looking like a glint of sunlight in human form, coasting through a crowded room in a billowing, yellow dress.

"Ah, humanity's newest pet," Salvarmyn sighed, and he could feel her silver eyes on his face. "You know, it's hard to believe, but I heard she was even more hideous to look on before the surgery." Obi-Wan took a breath. Held it. Let the bitter words dissipate as he exhaled. He could hear the Sayikan's smirk in her voice. "You'd think that with the investment laid down on all that grafted skin, they'd have spent a little extra to make her more pleasing to the eye."

Cool fingers trailed their way up, playing with hairs on the nape of his neck. It took a surprising amount of self-restraint to not recoil from the touch.

"Then again, you humans can be such oddities." Emily laughed at something Queen Breha whispered in her ear. Her hair was so long now, brushing along her shoulders as she shook her head in response. "I heard a rumour that Senator Organa is looking to line her up, replace his allegedly barren Queen and sit on the throne in her stead. They say he'll usurp the Royal line citing renewed blood. Ushering in a stronger Alderaan."

Her hand traced along his jaw, circling up to his ear. Obi-Wan could feel the heat of her pressing up against his side. Hot breath fluttered along his neck. On the holonews footage, Emily danced with Bail, her footsteps stumbling and unsure as a newborn Eopie. Salvarmyn's voice dropped low, to almost a whisper, like they were sharing secrets.

"All nonsense, of course; whispered by isolationists who have watched their profits bleed out in the face of wider galactic competition. You ask me, the rumours circulating about the Chancellor's interests are far more intriguing."

"Oh?" His voice sounded detached from his body. On the screen, Emily was dancing again. It looked like a Corellian reel, and at the point where her partner was meant to swing her up, he stumbled, arms struggling to even lift her onto her toes. The poor man flushed puce, but Emily just laughed. On the next turn, she whispered something to him, and then he was thrown up into the air instead, Emily not even straining to hold him as she whirled him in a wide arc. The moment his feet hit the ground, she was nearly doubled over from laughing so hard, shuffling her way out of the line of dancers. Obi-Wan thought his heart might break for love of her.

"It's said that many of Palpatine's initial backers aren't so happy with...how shall I put it? His evenhandedness when dealing with the 'lesser' races. Seems many of them expected a humanity-first policy from the dear Chancellor." The Sakiyan pressed in closer. "Word is, this little puppet he's found will make the ideal toy to dangle in their faces, until they all fall back in line behind him. It's an interesting thought, and not entirely outside the realm of possibility, I suppose. No matter how the holonews paints him, Palpatine's far more cunning than that whole bleeding-hearted act he puts on."

Her painted mouth hovered close to his cheek, he could almost feel her skin brush against him. "Either way, I doubt this one will last must longer; not before all those vested interests grab a hold and pull her all to little pieces."

His senses warned him a half a breath before she leaned in to kiss him.

Her lips met air.

"My apologies, I've just remembered that I'm late for a prior engagement. Do excuse me."

Fingernails scraped his skin as he jerked back from her grip, her voice trailing after him as he made his way towards the balconies and the racetrack beyond. He was done with this; chasing a ghost across the Galaxy. He was going to get Anakin, and they would solve this mystery tonight, subtly be damned. He wasn't going to spend another second longer on this planet than he needed to. Obi-Wan tucked away the image of Emily laughing, dancing, swimming in turquoise seas and plucking shells from crystal-white sands. He pressed them tight to the ache in his chest like he was staunching a wound.

Soon.

He'd sustain himself off those holoimages until Emily was in front of him again.