"Aren't you a little young to be in a place like this?"

The question comes from her left and she glances that way, trying to make sense of the lithe, cowled figure that's claimed that seat. The voice is familiar: scratchy and low with a sultry undertone that's beginning to fade from disuse. If not for the light pressure behind her eyes and the haze that's begun to blur her peripheral vision, her guess would be more confident. "Ventress?"

"You left."

Yes.

"You helped," she slurs.

Ventress looks away. Yes.

The tavern is located in a dimly lit cul-de-sac of rusted walls and sparking wires deep in the bowels of Coruscant's underworld. Level 1319. Closer to the core than the surface. It's a raucous place populated by the dregs of society and supported by every sort of debauchery from drug-dealing to bounty hunting to slave trafficking. Ventress fits right in, or at least can make a play at fitting in.

Ahsoka sticks out like a sore thumb and doesn't care in the least. She's got things to think about and other things to forget and she'd figured on starting with the latter. Better to forget first so that she can begin to move on. Hence the setting and the drink in front of her. It's a brownish color with a sludgy foam on top. It tastes about as good as it looks, but it seems to be doing its job.

She takes another drink.

A bone-thin arm reaches over and snatches the drink away. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Ahsoka at least has enough brainpower left to glare. "Jedi can't die from inebriation."

Ventress just smirks and slides the drink further out of range. "Trying to prove your brain hasn't completely shorted out yet? That's a big word and it doesn't suit you, but it does suit Kenobi. You shouldn't believe everything that man tells you."

"Do not insult him," she growls.

Ventress rolls her eyes. "Force save me from hero-worshipping younglings… how do you suppose he stumbled upon that ridiculous conclusion? It's not in the Jedi handbook; I promise you that."

"He would NEVER –"

"Get drunk enough to find out?" Ventress actually laughs. "My dear Ahsoka… you have much to learn."

Ahsoka huffs and turns away. At the turn of her neck, a sharp pain flares in her skull and she cradles her head in both hands, massaging her temples. She can feel the former Sith's eyes on her, but it doesn't matter. Who cares what Ventress sees? "Not from you," she mumbles.

"Really." Ventress sounds completely nonplussed. "Kenobi is an indoctrinated fool and Skywalker is too self-absorbed to realize his own hypocrisy. That boy despises anyone who betrays his trust. So much so that he's too blind to realize he's become the very thing he despises."

Stop it.

"Jedi know nothing of friendship. Nothing of loyalty. Nothing of trust. All that matters is the Republic and that it stands at the expense of all else. Even you."

"Stop…" she hisses, glaring through fingers.

Ventress's cowl is lowered and she's facing forward, chin in hands. It's an odd posture, one that Ahsoka is too angry and too buzzed to notice. "How does that make you feel? You don't matter enough. You're not worthy enough. You're expendable. You're too young and inexperienced and immature to know what you saw, and even after the truth comes to light they try to throw a bandage over the whole thing by offering a promotion. Ha. Right. Can't admit to anything wrong, at least not in the only way that matters. Here, padawan, become a Knight and then maybe next time we'll consider you worth listening to."

"STOP IT!" She's moving before she knows what she's doing: shoto reversed in one hand, saber flaring green in the other, both reaching to slice Ventress to pieces.

But the crimson blade hovering a hair beneath her chin halts her movements. Ventress is still seated, still holding her chin in one hand, but her head is now facing Ahsoka and tilted at an angle that suggests weariness rather than condescension. There is no touch of sarcasm in her expression. Just a narrowing of the eyes and the tick of a brow that implies disappointment and not much else. Ahsoka hadn't seen her other hand move.

"So." Ventress flicks her eyes at each of the blades poised to strike her and then stares at Ahsoka once more. "Inebriation can't kill a Jedi? The only reason you're not dead right now is because I've unfortunately decided you're worth tolerating."

"They're my friends," she spits. Some of the saliva sizzles as it strikes the red beam still resting at her neck. "Don't talk that way about them."

"Friends don't abandon each other."

"They don't hold grudges either." That one seems to silence the older woman and Ahsoka lowers her arms and turns off her weapons. She suddenly feels very tired and it seems that she'd started crying at one point. Her cheeks are wet. "Friends sometimes hurt each other," she mutters, wiping at the wet tracks on her face. A glance at those around them confirms that their momentary spat hadn't put a wrench in anyone's plans. Just another day on Level 1319, apparently.

Ventress sighs. "You've forgiven them."

Ahsoka is silent for a long moment. "I want my drink back." I'm working on it.

Ventress grants her a half-smile. "I wasn't joking. It will kill you, Togruta or not. At this place the names of the drinks aren't meant to be clever."

The Suicide. Right. "Oh."

Ventress grunts. Then she stands and raises her cowl. "Come with me."

"Why?"

"You need more help."

"From you?"

"I can at least get you out the door without being assaulted."

"I can handle myself."

"You're more inebriated than ninety percent of this crowd. And ninety-five percent of them are carrying. Knives, blasters, darts, stolen lightsabers, broken shards of metal, other creative means of killing each other… need I say more?"

Ahsoka huffs and drags herself to her feet. She sways once and then rights herself, offering Ventress a shell of a smirk. "Fine. Get me through the door."

Ventress gets her through the door and then some. When Ahsoka wakes the next morning, it's to the stench of one nasty looking brew of tea. She glances around the dingy one-bedroom dwelling and furrows her brows at the assassin offering her a chipped mug. "What is this?"

Ventress smirks. "Something that won't kill you."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. "Very funny."

"It'll kill the headache, though."

She takes the mug and eyes the murky swill with disgust. "Whatever." One sip makes her gag, but she manages to keep it down. After two more sips, she lowers it and studies her surroundings. Ratty cot, old blanket, the basic necessities (cupboard, hook-ups, one other cot, single light). The silence is only slightly tense. "Do you think Master Kenobi has ever been as drunk as you say?" she asks.

"No, but I think he's given it strong consideration. Skywalker on the other hand…"

This time the silence is heavy and Ahsoka takes another sip of tea. It not only begins to mute the pounding in her skull, but it tastes horrible enough to prevent her from thinking of anything else.

For a moment, she forgets.