Rey hands Finn a basket of falafel, two already stuffed in her own mouth.
"They don't have food at Maz's Palace?" he asks, looking down skeptically at his basket. It smells good, but he's always been wary of street food.
"Iss maweth cathle," she says with her mouth still full, spraying crumbs everywhere.
He slices one of the falafel in half with the side of his plastic fork. "Come again?"
She swallows it down like a pelican. No shame, but she's not the most polite eater. "It's Maz's Castle. And you don't want to eat there. They've got about five things on the menu, and all of those things have freezer burn."
His hunger trumping his skepticism, he stabs the bit of falafel, dips it into the red sauce, and pops it into his mouth. He chews, and the mixture of flavors settle into his taste buds.
Okay, so this stuff is delicious. Worth-potential-food-poisoning delicious. He takes another bite before he even swallows down the first one.
They walk along Windu Boulevard silently, both devouring their food like they haven't eaten in weeks. Both of them are dressed in clothes fit for "'83 and Under Night'" - Rey's dressed like that one time Audrey Hepburn wore a black turtleneck in that movie he can't remember the name of; Finn's lamely dressed in a Casablanca t-shirt that he found at the bottom of a moving box, a brown leather jacket over it. He doesn't even like Casablanca that much.
The October night is the kind of cold that bites at your face. Every building they pass is worn down, either made out of cracked concrete or chipped red brick. The district he lived in before was a bit run-down too, but it was lifeless and gray. Everyone kept to themselves. This place is quite the opposite - splashes of color from neon signs, the smells of different street foods mingling in the air, people shouting over the sounds of traffic in every language from Mandarin to Spanish to Arabic, graffiti in places where there shouldn't be graffiti.
The only thing that wasn't gray and mundane in his "old life" was Rose. He probably would've been miserable in that district without her. Finn wonders how she's doing.
Nope, he thinks. Nope nope nooooope. We are not thinking about her tonight. He's been good today. Only almost cried once.
"Do you ever feel like a stranger in this city?" Rey asks casually as they turn onto Mermeia Street.
Finn wipes his mouth off with a napkin. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" Her clear brown eyes scan the city, a thoughtful expression coming over her face. "Well, maybe it's because I'm not from here. But sometimes everyone feels like a fixture in this city. Like they belong here, and I've sort of just wandered in. And I participate, but I'm not…"
"...not a fixture," Finn finishes.
"Does that make sense?"
"Completely."
Rey glances at him and smiles, then looks up at the smoggy sky. "Did you grow up here?"
"I grew up all over New York."
Rey puts the rest of her falafel in her mouth. "Mm." She swallows. "What did your parents do?"
"I…" His shoulders tense. "They were...lawyers."
This is a big, fat Lie with a capital L. Finn grabs Rey's empty basket and stacks it on top of his own. He throws it into a nearby trash can, turning for a moment to hide a wave of guilt that has come over his face.
"When did you start up the bookstore?" he asks once he's turned back around. They're at the corner of Mermeia and Yavin.
Rey looks at him a little quizzically, obviously noting this sudden deflection. "I didn't start it. I took it over for the landlord."
"That creepy guy?"
"Oh, he's not creepy. He's just a grumpy old hermit. You have red sauce on your shirt."
He looks down. "Oh, shit."
"What kind of lawyers?" Obviously her bullshit detector is going off.
"Uuuh...real estate," he says, licking his thumb and trying to rub the red sauce off. "Why'd he give the bookstore up to you? You guys related?"
"No." She frowns.
They walk down Yavin Street, the conversation coming to an awkward halt. She knows he's deflecting, but won't confront him about it.
Her not saying anything makes him feel ten times guiltier. He's been a little flighty with Rey, so much so that he's surprised that she still trusts him. He ran out when she was showing him the apartment, for one - if someone would've done that to him, he would've thought of it as a warning sign. And now he's straight up lying to her.
Damn. Is he a crappy person?
It's not like his parents were CIA operatives or disgraced public figures or anything. He just doesn't like pitiful looks. And he doesn't like...opening up. Is that a thing that anyone likes doing?
The actual truth swells up in his throat. "Rey - "
She meets his eyes, slowing down a little.
Finn has noticed that she has a very intense stare. When she looks at you, she looks at you.
"Yo, Finn!" A familiar, chipmunky voice hollers.
Finn looks down the street and sees Beebee waving her arm in the air. She's stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, not too far from a gray concrete building, with a purple neon sign that reads Maz's Castle in cursive.
Finn and Rey pick up the pace and meet up with Beebee.
She's wearing overalls as per usual, with an orange button-up shirt underneath and a white scarf tied in a knot on top of her head. She looks like creamsicle Rosie the Riveter.
She grins, eyes bouncing between the both of them. "You two look cute."
"Thanks," Rey says, tugging at the waist of her turtleneck. "I love your scarf."
"Thank yooooou," she says in a sing-songy type of way, touching the scarf with the tips of her fingers. "It's actually a bunch of handkerchiefs stitched together. Finn, you have sauce on your shirt."
"I know." Finn tries to rub at the stain with his thumb again, but he's just making it worse.
Rey studies Beebee's face. "We've met before, right?"
"Yes," she says. "You're the girl that doesn't like my brother."
A crease appears in between her brows. "Oh, no, we just - we banter. It's our thing."
Beebee laughs. "It's okay. I don't like him either."
"Overrated in my opinion."
They all look to the side.
Poe stands there, grinning slyly.
He's wearing one of those vintage button-up shirts made out of silky, sky-blue fabric, a swede jacket over it, and wire-rim glasses.
Let's just get this out of the way - Poe Dameron is an objectively good-looking human being. The kind of objectively good-looking human being that can wear silky blue shirts and wire-rim glasses and make it look like a GQ editorial instead of something dorks or elderly casino owners would wear. His black hair is also doing that Superman-curl thing that only happens to people with perfect hair.
Beebee points to his glasses. "Please don't tell me you're wearing those for fashion purposes."
"No, I dropped my contacts down the sink."
"Again?"
"Again."
Beebee sighs.
"Jannah has a spot waiting for us," Rey interjects, rubbing her arms from the cold.
They begin to head toward the bar.
"You know," Beebee says, at a volume only her and Finn can hear, "it's been very difficult to get my brother to do anything besides work."
Finn nods, quickly glances over at Poe. "He's a busy dude."
"Mm hm. Mm hm. Isn't it funny that he went out when you asked him if he wanted to? And he knew that you were gonna be there?" She grins mischievously.
"Let's nip this whole Hello, Dolly! thing in the bud right now, alright? Matchmake someone else. And what makes you think we're compatible?"
"Astrology."
Finn groans and looks up at the sky. "Lord give me strength…" he mutters.
"You're a Leo, he's an Aries."
"I'm a Cancer."
Beebee's face falls. "Well, crap. That's no good." She seems to be working out a new game plan in her head. "Are you sure you're a Cancer?"
"Pretty sure I know when my birthday is. And there's actual, real life reasons why we're incompatible too. He's older, more successful, comes from a completely different background…"
"Like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. And Julia Roberts still got with him in the end."
"You realize Julia Roberts was a prostitute in that movie, right?"
"She was?"
"That's the whole plot!"
"Well, minus the prostitute part." She stares at the side of his face. "You do kind of look like Julia Roberts, though."
"I get that all the time," he says flatly.
"No, I'm serious. I think it's the teeth."
He turns to look at her. "Beebee?"
"Yeah?" she asks innocently.
"You're the least normal person I know."
"Page of Wands?"
Maz Kanata studies the card on the bar counter. It's of a man holding a staff, green leaves sprouting from the tip of it. "Hm. Do you know what this means, Jannah dear?" She looks up, pushing her large, round glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"No," Jannah says. "I've only memorized the Major Arcana so far."
The woman grins. "It means adventure."
Maz has a round, dark-skinned face, her brown eyes magnified by her large glasses. She's currently wearing a black vest with intricate silver designs stitched across the front, about ten beaded necklaces strung around her neck, ten bracelets on each arm, and an orange scarf covering her hair. If you look close enough, you'll see that both of her earrings mimic the milky way constellation.
Maz is a woman in her late thirties, though she talks most of the time like she's lived about seventeen lifetimes. Jannah has always found her fascinating.
Her bar is a museum of sorts. Odd knick-knacks that Maz calls "artifacts" fill up the walls: pots, tools, historical photos, newspaper clippings, art, old candy wrappers, sculptures, handwritten letters and notes, baseball cards, cereal boxes, signs, vinyl records, CDs. If you have a keen eye, you'll see a plastic bag with a lock of dark hair in it pinned up with a tac - according to Maz, the hair belonged to Elvis Presley. Or Leonardo DiCaprio. Or Katharine Hepburn. It depends on what day you ask her.
Above the bar is a green neon sign that says ONLY CONNECT. Jannah just learned recently that it's a quote from Howards End. She can't really explain why, but the two words - even if they're from a stuffy, pretentious British novel - fit this run-down Kuat District bar with sticky tables and ugly green linoleum floors.
"Adventure?" Jannah takes a sip of her beer.
"Yes. Upright Page of Wands signifies new experiences. High energy. Fleeting excitement."
She leans back in her barstool, skeptical. "It's a bit late in the day for new experiences, isn't it?"
"The cards don't always say what we want them to say." Maz fidgets with one of her bracelets. "Perhaps you should do something spontaneous tonight. Something that doesn't require a lot of thinking."
"How about I drink two beers and go home? That doesn't require a lot of thinking."
"But it's not spontaneous…"
Jannah scoffs. "Spontaneity is vastly overrated. Life is about thinking and planning. If you don't think, and you don't plan, then everything goes to chaos."
"Sometimes it's hard to believe you're a Calrissian." Maz shakes her head, almost looking disappointed.
"You have to agree that my father has made a lot of mistakes, and most of them have to do with poor planning."
Maz puts the card back in the deck and shuffles it. "We are most offended by the cards that speak the most truth." She looks over Jannah's shoulder. "Welcome, travelers!"
Jannah spins around on her barstool.
Rey, Finn, Poe, and Beebee walk into the bar, making their way toward the spots Jannah saved for them.
"While My Guitar Gently Weeps" fades out from the speakers, replaced by "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay".
The bar is semi-busy, with some folks already semi-drunk. A handful of people have migrated onto the designated dance floor in the far corner of the room.
They take their seats. Rey sits next to Jannah, and Finn serves as a buffer between Rey and Poe. Beebee sits at the end, next to her brother.
Maz scans the group. "Rey, Pinot Grigio. Poe, gin and tonic. Beebee, Shirley Temple."
"That sounds wonderful." Rey smiles.
Beebee holds out a hand. "Extra cherries."
"Make the gin to tonic ratio about five hundred to one," Poe says.
Maz cocks a brow at him. "That was quite a CNN interview." She busies herself with making Poe's drink.
"Have you ever been turned into a gif before, Maz?"
"No, darling, but it sounds fun." She hands him his gin and tonic, her eyes moving over to Finn. "You're new."
"This is Finn," Rey says, patting his forearm.
Finn gives a small, awkward wave. "I'm her new roommate."
"I'm glad you have a new addition," Maz says. "Your dynamic was getting a little stale." She gestures dramatically to the wide array of alcohol. "Pick your poison, Finn."
"Could I get a - ?"
"Nevermind. I know what you want."
"You do?"
Jannah leans forward to look at Finn. "Just trust her."
Maz whips up a Moscow Mule and sets it on the counter with a flourish. "On the house."
"Thanks," Finn says, grabbing the copper cup and taking a sip from it. He swallows, a surprised expression on his face. "Wow."
"You're welcome," Maz says.
"I swear, everything tastes better in this district." Finn takes another sip.
"That's because we're the best district." Maz hands Beebee her Shirley Temple.
"Objectively." Poe raises his glass.
"'Those Tarot cards?" Finn asks, gesturing to the deck in front of Jannah.
"Yes, they are." Maz picks up the cards and starts shuffling them again. "Have you ever gotten a reading before?"
"Once, when I was in college and very, very drunk."
Jannah wonders what university he went to. His face is vaguely familiar.
"Well, I'll give you a sober reading, then."
Finn shakes his head. "I'm alright."
Beebee picks the stem off of a cherry, smirking. "He doesn't believe in that kind of mumbo jumbo."
Maz adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at him. "Not a spiritual man, Finn?"
"I...I think there's something up there. God or the universe or whatever. But I don't believe that pieces of paper can predict your future. And I don't believe in fate."
"I'm surprised you don't," Jannah says.
Finn peers over at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you needed a new place to live. You happen to know Beebee, who happens to be related to Poe, who happens to live in the same apartment as Rey, who was in desperate need of a roommate. And once you move in, you run into Poe, who happened to have read one of your pieces, and happens to work for the wife of the editor-in-chief of the Coruscant Times, which you said you've read since you were fourteen. And boom, you have an interview."
Finn doesn't look convinced. "That's not fate. That's people knowing people. Specifically, that's Poe knowing people."
"Are you saying that I am fate?" Poe says.
"Literally no one said that," Beebee replies.
Rey looks at Poe. "Though I suppose you like to think that the universe revolves around you."
"The universe doesn't revolve, Rey, it expands," Poe says. "God, do you remember anything from those two years of high school?"
Rey flips him off.
Maz fans the cards out in front of Finn. "Pick three."
A little hesitant, Finn picks three and hands them back to her.
Maz lays them down on the counter in a neat row. With her ringed index finger, she points to each one. "Past, present, future." She flips up the first one - past. "Reversed Four of Wands. Hm."
Everyone's attentively watching the reading. If you want to be a regular at Maz's Castle, you're going to get a Tarot card reading - it's like a rite of passage.
"What does that mean?" Finn asks.
"Upright, it means celebration. Pleasure. Balance. The support of family and community."
"But it's reversed."
"Exactly." Maz runs her hand gently across the card. "Your past is full of instability. It seems that the structures that were supposed to support you have failed you, and you were left lost, without a home."
Jannah notices that Rey's brows furrow at this. She almost looks offended.
Finn turns his drink in his hands but doesn't take a sip.
Maz stares at him intently. "Does that ring true?"
He doesn't look at her. "I guess. Parts of it."
Jannah prides herself on knowing when people are lying. He's lying.
She taps the card in the middle. "Present." She flips it over. "Upright Six of Swords. This means that you are moving on. That you are leaving your old life behind - and it's painful, but it's necessary."
"I'll give you that one," Finn says, laughing a little uncomfortably. Jannah can tell that he desperately wants this encounter to be over.
"And finally, the one everyone always wants to know - future." She flips over the third and final card. "Ah."
"Oh, no, am I gonna die?"
"I thought 'pieces of paper didn't predict your future'..." Jannah says.
Finn gives her a look.
"Not to worry," Maz says. "This is a good card."
He sighs in relief.
"You got upright Page of Wands."
Jannah perks up. "I got the same one."
"Indeed," Maz rests her forearms on the counter. "Go on, Jannah dear. Interpret. You are my Tarot prodigy."
Jannah reaches over and grabs the card, studying it for a moment. She peers up at Finn, who's looking at her expectantly. Maz has taught her to rely on both prior knowledge and intuition. "I suppose this means that," she tries to find a way to articulate this, "this new life you are transitioning into will be exciting...with experiences that may be fleeting, but that doesn't mean they're not valuable, or not worth seizing."
He tilts his head slightly. "Huh."
Jannah doesn't know how to interpret this Huh. She hands Maz her card back.
"Did I make a believer out of you?" Maz slides the cards back into the deck and places them underneath the counter.
Finn shrugs. "You've turned me from a Tarot atheist to a Tarot...agnostic."
Maz grins. "I'll take it."
Finn crouches down, flipping through the song catalogue behind the glass of the jukebox. "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John is currently playing.
"Do they have 'Dedicated to the One I Love'?" Jannah asks.
Finn startles a little and glances over at Jannah, whose arm is leaned against the jukebox. She didn't really need to adjust her wardrobe for '83 and Under Night, because she already dresses like she's going to the Woodstock Festival anyway. Right now she's wearing a yellow and blue patterned skirt that stretches to the floor and a white, long-sleeved shirt. The thin chain of a silver necklace glints against her collarbone.
Finn doesn't want to mimic their first meeting, where he looked at her for too long and didn't say anything, so he goes back to looking at the catalogue and says, "By who?"
"The Mamas & the Papas. Or the Temprees. Or the Shirelles."
"Sounds cheesy," he says teasingly.
"Oh, it is."
Finn flips through the catalogue. "Aha. 'Dedicated to the One I Love'. The Mamas & the Papas." He selects it and stands back upright.
"Where did you go to university, Finn?" Jannah asks, looking at his face studiously.
A little caught off guard, he says, "Starkiller College. Why?"
Her dark eyes flash. "I think I remember you."
Finn smiles. "You went to SC?"
She nods. "Class of Twenty-Eighteen. You were in...I don't remember which class. But I think you were in one."
"Wait." Vague memories are brought to the front of his brain. "You used to have braids. Or dreads?"
"Braids. I also had a horrid nose ring." One corner of her mouth turns up into a small smile. "You used to be a dork."
"Yeah, I'm still a dork."
"You don't look so much like a dork anymore, though."
He tugs awkwardly at his ear. Not dorky-looking is a bare minimum compliment, but he's flattered by it. "You know, maybe fate's kicking me in the pants until I believe in it."
"Maybe." She smiles again. This time, both sides of her mouth turn up.
"Tiny Dancer" fades out, replaced by Jannah's song of choice.
It starts out with the picking of a guitar, and an ethereal, female voice singing - or maybe it's more than one voice. Finn can't tell.
While I'm away from you, my baby
I know it's hard for you, my baby
"Do you wanna dance?" The words spill out of Finn's mouth before he can really think about them, before he can inwardly talk himself out of it.
Jannah's eyes have drifted over to the open space where patrons have gathered to dance. Her expression softens. "I do, actually."
Rey watches Jannah talk to Finn by the jukebox. It doesn't seem like Jannah thinks he's a serial killer anymore, that's for sure.
Poe and Beebee are in an impassioned argument about whether or not Rocketman or Bohemian Rhapsody is a better movie (siblings argue about such inconsequential things). She has her own opinions about this, but Poe and Beebee are such an argumentative duo that she decides it's not worth it. Plus, she would have to take Poe's side, who's defending Rocketman with passion.
Instead, Rey tunes them out, softly singing along to "Tiny Dancer". She runs her finger along the rim of her wine glass, listening to the low ring of it.
She focuses on the green neon sign above the wall opposite the bar, above the shelves of liquor. ONLY CONNECT, it says. Her eyes glaze over out of boredom, the green neon becoming a blurry haze.
A gust of cold wind comes into the bar, nipping at the side of her face.
Rey turns her head toward the entrance.
Oh, bloody hell, she thinks.
Of course Ben is here.
His tall frame nearly grazes the top of the door frame as he walks into the bar. His red-haired play producer, Armitage Hux, trails after him, the same scowl on his pale, sallow-cheeked face as usual.
Ben scans the room.
Rey forgets to look away.
Their eyes lock.
Dammit.
Ben takes one step back, as if preparing to flee.
Hux grabs him at the elbow and pushes him into the room, looking exasperated.
"Tiny Dancer" fades out, replaced by a song that she doesn't recognize.
While I'm away from you, my baby
I know it's hard for you, my baby
Because it's hard for me, my baby
And the darkest hour is just before dawn
Rey forces her eyes away, and gulps down her wine until the glass is empty.