It had been a long and wearying night. Despite their lofty and unworldly nature the Jedi still needed to grapple with mundane affairs, like budgets, staff appointments, cleaning rotas and the like.
"The last item," began Haram Ord as everyone let out a collective sigh. "Application for the establishment of a restaurant on Temple Grounds, from one Sheev Palpatine." he read out, disbelief mounting with every word.
"Surely you jest," said Master Windu. Several other masters nodded. Clearly, this was a little joke to lighten the otherwise tedious mundane tasks.
"This is no jest," replied Ord. "An application has been made and submitted. That it has got this far is, unusual."
It was strange. Normally such a request would have been stopped at an earlier stage. How had it got all the way here?
"However it is before us the response is, of course, to politely reject the application," said Master Windu.
"Hasty, I feel we are being. Deliberate more, we shall," said Master Yoda.
"Hasty? This is a commercial enterprise. In the Jedi Temple!" said Master Windu.
"Many are the issues to be considered, Master Windu," said Yoda.
"Is one of those the complimentary Fessian Stewed Egg Broth you always seem to get with your order?" said Master Fisto.
"Some, some. The requested location, more interesting I think you will find," said Yoda.
The assembled masters read the proposal more carefully.
"He wants it in sub-basement four!" several said at once.
A few days later Sheev Palpatine stood before the Jedi council.
"You have considered my humble proposal gentlemen?" he said.
"Questions we had. Answers you may provide," said Yoda.
"Concerning the location within the Temple," said Master Mundi.
"I know you gentlemen are busy with safeguarding the Republic and all, so I chose something out of the way. It also has good access to an old gravway, so we needn't bother you bringing goods in through the front doors," said Palpatine.
Well, that seemed to answer that. It all seemed so reasonable and sensible. Still.
"Subbasement four? Isn't that out of the way?" said Master Mundi.
"I am a firm believer in the phrase 'If you build it, they will come.' Also, that location will help service an impoverished part of the undercity. A little outreach on my part to help those in need." said Palpatine.
The Jedi mentally conferred among themselves. The restaurateur was not planning anything nefarious, quite the opposite. They soon came to a consensus.
"Open your branch in the Temple, you shall," said Master Yoda.
Sheev hummed a merry tune as he strolled back to Hyperfusion. It was not, after all. that far. As he arrived he noticed two figures in Mandalorian style armour leaving. Inside he found his chief cook pale and shaking.
"Something the matter," he asked.
"Those men. They came in, They were making all sorts of threats," said Shmi.
"What sort of threats?" he asked.
"Nothing overt, they just commented on the furnishings and the likelihood of fires, but I know them, the Fett brothers," said Shmi.
"Fett? I'm not familiar with that particular clan," said Palpatine. Of course, they could be some minor branch.
"All I know is that they're bad news. Gardulla used them on her rivals," said Shmi.
"Well, I see who I can talk to about that," said Palpatine.
Palpatine wandered into Grissol's, walked past the guests and into the kitchen. Grissol, a massive Hutt looked up from where he was preparing meals and slithered over to hug him.
"Sheev, to what do I owe the honour?" boomed Grissol.
"Just having some troubles. The Fett brothers," said Palpatine.
"Oh, bad news those two. They tried their stuff here. Told them I'd make them into an extra meat lovers with a side order of Duranium. They left." rumbled Grissol.
"Hmm, any idea who they're working for?"
"None, but try the McMandos on Regal. I hear they hang out there. Say, any advice on expanding, I feel you lucked out there with your name. 'Grissol' doesn't exactly conjure deliciousness in most beings minds."
Sheev considered the problem. The locals knew Grissol and so ate here, but for further afield? He had a point.
"How bout Hutt Pizza? It's what you do after all."
"Catchy, I like it. You're the best Sheev." said Grissol appreciatively, "You know, we Hutts invented pizza."
Along with every second other race to make the claim. Still, given their age, maybe the Hutts did have the rightful claim.
"I did not know that. Thank you for the tip," said Palpatine before leaving.
It was a short cab trip before Sheev was outside McMandos. He looked disapprovingly at the giant steel grey 'M' outside. It was so ostentatious, so Mandalorian. Inside the clientele were lined up in neat rows before the counter, patiently awaiting their turn to order. Palpatine had often wondered why. Mandalorians were famed for several things, but cooking was not one of them. Their food was bland and tasteless. The only remarkable feature of an item from McMandos was that it was almost impossible to tell which particular branch had made it. He walked up to the front of the counter and spoke to the minion behind the counter.
"I'ld like to speak to the manager, please," he said.
The minion froze.
"Well? The door's just over there." He said pointing.
"Um, you need to be in line." said the minion.
"I don't want to order anything. I want to speak to the manager," said Palpatine.
"All requests must be from the queue. It is the way." said the minion.
"It is the way." echoed the rest of the staff and many of the patrons.
Palpatine decided to get in line. Eventually, lengthened by every youngling's inability to decide which toy weapon they wanted with their Killy Meal he was at the head of the queue.
"Now, can I speak to the manager?" he said to the new minion.
After a bit of helpful prompting Sheev managed to be led to the manager's office.
"Hello there rival. How may I cooperate" said the Mandalorian behind the desk.
"You can explain why you sent your goons to my restaurant," said Palpatine.
"Goons? We at McMandos are no goons." said the Mandalorian.
"What about the Fett brothers?" said Palpatine.
"Those two wannabe cosplayers? Oh yeah, I ask them to do stuff, reform program see. They had a bad start in life. The wrong side of the hyperlane." said the Mandalorian.
"Well, they threatened my chef," said Palpatine.
The manager looked at him, removed his helmet and then banged his head on the desk three times.
"Those fools. They didn't hurt her did they?" said the manager.
"No, but she was quite shaken. What did you want?" said Palpatine.
The manager told him, Palpatine couldn't believe his ears. The manager told him again.
"Okay, I guess that explains things. Yes, I can see the confusion. Thank you." he said.
Palpatine caught a cab back to Hyperfusion where he informed Shmi.
"He sent the Fett brothers to ask me out on a date!" Shmi exclaimed.
Palpatine nodded.