Okay...Ezra knew Sabine couldn't wait to put her finishing paint-strokes on the new ship they'd acquired from the last mission. When swiping the craft, he'd had her in mind.
"Stop daydreaming, Ez," she called from the top of the new Phantom's dorsal tip. Bold, brash colors adorned the fin. Sabine glared at him where he stood on the ground. "You're almost dropping me!"
Her warning yanked him from his reverie. He held up his other hand, Force-supporting Sabine as she put the finishing touches on her handiwork. "Sorry, Sabi. Are you almost done?"
"Almost, but not quite. I have a ways to go before our new ship is properly-painted the way I want it."
He'd offered to help her decorate their new acquisition, and with his offer came yet another way in which his use of the Force could be put to use. "We've been doing this for hours."
"So?" she exclaimed pointedly, calling down to him from her invisible perch.
"So-it means I'm hungry. I need a break. You could use one too."
"I don't need a break," she retorted petulantly. "I want to get this part finished before I start on the ship's other side."
"Noooo!" Ezra scowled at her.
"Oh, come on. Stop being a baby."
He, being a baby? Ezra didn't think so, not when he'd done everything she'd asked patiently. Instead of firing off an angry comeback, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he asked evenly, "Do you really think I'm being a baby, Sabine?"
Realizing she might have offended her man, Sabine apologetically replied, "I didn't mean it that way."
"Then, what way?"
Shaking her head, and applying more paint to another section of the fin, Sabine, running her tongue across her upper lip squinted.
"You can't answer me because you know I'm not acting like a baby. I never have ever since I joined up with you and the crew," Ezra countered, proud of the way he'd answered.
Better she let him have his say. Then she retorted, "Stop jittering. You're messing up my brushstrokes," Sabine complained, but there was no hint of irritation in her voice. The fact was, ever since they'd wed, he'd really come into his own. The maturity he consistently displayed in tough situations always amazed her. Kanan had told everyone how it had been Ezra who'd resolved an alternate, satisfying ending for the Clone War. A shame he hadn't been around when the actual one had raged. Maybe she was the one who needed to learn what it meant to compromise. "How hungry are you?"
"Very!" he hooted, redoubling his efforts to keep her aloft and steady. "But...I know you want your work to turn out perfect, so keep going. I promise to keep you up there without one bobble."
Beaming down at him, she said, nodding, "You're right. We need a break. Painting on an empty stomach won't make what I'm trying to create the way I want it." Giving him a wink with a high sign, she requested, "Lower me."
"Yes, ma'am." Slowly and surely, Ezra drew his hands back, while in his mind the imagery of Sabine floating back to the ground like a feather kept him focused.
Standing on her two feet again, Sabine asked, "Well, what do you think of the paint job so far?"
As usual, her creation was expressive, symbolistic and unique. Her use of color and design, inspiring; her style was unrivaled. His sweetheart's hopes, dreams and aspirations were embodied in her work. One day, once the Empire was utterly gone, Sabine's art needed to be put on display, say, like on Coruscant. She deserved to be hailed as one of the most influential artists of their times. More of an incentive for a Rebel victory, Ezra thought. Sabine must be recognized for the great talent she is.
"Ezra...did you fall asleep?" she razzed, seeing how lost in thought he was. She ruffled his hair with a hand that was splotched and moist with paint, which left a bright magenta trail in his shiny dark locks. Then she ribbed, "Nice. After I get through with the new Phantom, it's your turn for some refreshening."
"Sabine, we've talked about this. I'm growing my hair longer. I'm drawing the line about adding colors like that in it."
"Aw, c'mon. Where's your sense of adventure?" she chided, aiming a glistening paintbrush at him, all set to use him as her living canvas.
"Not funny-"
"I promise. You'll thank me for it."
Breaking into a run, Ezra touted, "Only if you can catch me." Seeing that Sabine was game, he took advantage of his Force-given ability and streaked into flight, hearing Sabine yell far behind him:
"I hate when you do that!" She heard haunting laughter echo far ahead of her, and she cried, "Ezra! You can't avoid me forever!"
Loudly, he vowed, "Even if I can't, and as much as I love what you do with paint, you're not putting any in my hair."
"You can't stop me. You know how I am when I'm determined."
Scoffing, Ezra, now perched high above her in an in-take duct alcove said, "I know, but...if I shave my head..."
Sabine tried picturing Ezra bald, and making a face that had him whooping. "Then I'd paint it." She nodded, smiling. "I'd paint your bald head the colors of my hair. Purple and white."
"I'm not shaving my head!"
"I didn't think so," Sabine gloated with a scornful grin. Then smiling coyly, she waved at him.
"You're not coloring my hair either!"
Unknown to them, Hera and Kanan, who were coming to pay the new Phantom a visit to see how far Sabine had gotten with her artistic touches, were listening from around a nearby corner.
"What are they going on about now?" Kanan whispered, straining to hear.
"Ezra says he'll shave his head if Sabine winds up painting his hair," Hera replied in kind. "Didn't we walk in on something like this a couple of days ago?"
"Yeah. It's a continuation," Kanan acknowledged, shaking his head, and wondering when both of them would grow up.
"Those two..." Hera sighed, snaking her arm around the Jedi's waist, squeezing it firmly.
"Yeah. I could be wrong, but I don't think I am...ever since they got married, maturity has gone out the window."
"Oh, I don't know," Hera replied, laughing. "It seems to leveling out."