Nash glanced over his shoulder, did a double-take, and then turned around, saying, "Speaking of Hera..."

Kanan turned too, and his stomach flip-flopped when he saw her. She was wearing a simple, floor-length dress in a rich, dark red; the neck of the gown left her throat and a good portion of her shoulders and upper chest exposed, and the skirts flowed from a fitted bodice. She wore a matching, unadorned headpiece.

He felt an elbow jab into his ribs. "Close your mouth," Nash said loudly. He had enough liquor on board to render his volume control inoperable.

Kanan hadn't realized that his mouth was hanging open, but he wasn't surprised; he closed it, and made a vague attempt at composing himself. It seemed like a waste of time to even bothering trying, though. Hera's expression, meanwhile, was a mixture of amusement and annoyance. She flashed a quick, sweet smile at Kanan's completely smitten, goggle-eyed, and likely very pathetic expression.

She was as cool as always, but there was a dark green flush creeping up her neck, and her brilliant green eyes had the telltale sheen that they seemed to acquire whenever he was kissing her. He could feel her in the Force, nearly vibrating. He smiled knowingly.

Hera's eyes narrowed slightly when she saw his smile. She could read his expressions a little too well, sometimes. "You two look like gangsters," she said.

"Did you get all the starship grease off?" Nash shot back cheerfully.

"Knock it off, both of you," Kanan said, unable to peel his eyes off the woman of his dreams. "Hera, you look..."

"She looks like her mother," Nash said, gazing at Hera in unabashed admiration. His voice had lost the usual sardonic tone. "Beautiful. Rhea was a better mother to me than my own mother was."

Hera and Nash looked at each other for a moment, and Kanan saw that there was a true, deep bond of friendship there, despite the constant sibling-like bickering.

"She felt bad for you," Hera said. "The poor little human boy, on a planet of Twi'leks."

Nash grinned. "Such a hardship for me, looking at all of those ridiculously attractive Twi'leks, yes."

Hera rolled her eyes. "You have issues, Nash."

"Don't I know it! Let's eat."

Dinner was mostly uneventful; Nash's surprisingly soft-hearted comments about Hera's appearance and her mother seemed to have warmed Hera's heart, and she let most of his ridiculous commentary slide without saying anything sarcastic in response. She even seemed to be letting herself enjoy it.

For his part, Kanan was too distracted by Hera to pay much attention to anything else. Regardless of how many times he tried to look elsewhere, his eyes kept dragging themselves back to her. She was having an easier time of it, but even so, they'd shared so many charged looks that Kanan was completely discomposed. He had no idea what he'd ordered, and couldn't focus for very long on whatever it was Nash was rambling about.

His inattention did not go unnoticed. Nash kicked him under the table.

"Ow! What was that for?!" he yelped.

"You need to get it together, mate. I know Hera thinks you're some kind of Sabacc wizard genius, but I'm pretty doubtful about that. And if you're too busy mooning over her the whole night, our chances of not dying are going to drop to less than zero. We're at zero right now, in case you were wondering."

Kanan shot a glance at Hera, who was conspicuously avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed dark green.

"I'm fine," he growled.

Nash laughed loudly, which earned him a few cross looks from the other diners. "Sure you are," he said.

Kanan knew, deep down, that Nash was right. He'd have to make more of an effort to focus.

After watching Nash eat and drink all the most expensive things on the restaurant's menu, the three of them walked across the hotel lobby to the casino's entrance. Coruscant Crown Casino was opulent in all the most ostentatious ways: rich dark colors with gold accents, gaming tables made out of Wroshyr wood, and throngs of expensively-dressed, wealthy patrons waiting to gamble their credits away.

Hera's scowl made it clear that she was frustrated and angry about the grand show of Imperial wealth on display; Kanan also found it hard to stomach, after seeing the poverty on so many Outer Rim planets. Imperial officers and senators mingled, toasting each other's fine accomplishments in bringing the Galaxy's people to their knees. He felt a frown forming on his own face, and quickly neutralized it. Getting angry about it wasn't going to help his focus, or Hera's.

Kanan touched her elbow, and she looked up at him. "Now's not the time," he murmured.

The aggravation in her face reduced fractionally, and she sighed. "I know. But it's hard not to want to blow this place up."

He felt it was best not to engage in that particular discussion at that particular moment, so he decided to change the subject. He brushed his fingertips very lightly against her lower back, which was exposed by her dress. She shivered almost imperceptibly, and her anger seemed to dissipate.

"I didn't get to tell you earlier, but you're stunning, Hera," he told her, in a low tone.

The look in her eyes was difficult to decipher, but he was pretty sure that if they weren't walking through a huge crowd of people, she would have kissed him. "Thanks," she finally said. "I don't know about a black suit over a black shirt, but it looks nice on you."

"Nice?! Come on, Hera. I think you can do better than that. Don't you mean to say that I'm the handsomest guy you've ever laid your eyes on, regardless of what color I'm wearing?"

She gave him a long sideways look, with one eyebrow arched. "I meant what I said," she told him with a smirk.

Nash, who was clearly in his element as he strutted through the casino, snorted. "Sorry, Kanan, but I'm the winner, in that department."

"You're definitely the winner in the ego department," Hera said dryly.

"Sorry, Hera, but I can't hear you. I'm too busy making everyone in here look like space trash," Nash said, scanning the enormous room with glinting black eyes. "Speaking of space trash...there's Dravik. What are the chances he'll kill me on sight?"

"Pretty low," Kanan said. "I don't think he'd start anything with all these people around."

"Didn't you say that one of his giant henchmen beat you up at The Credit Chip?" Nash asked.

"Yeah, but that was The Credit Chip. It's on a space station in the Brentaal system; this is the Coruscant Crown Casino. This is the kind of place where henchmen drag you into the back room before they beat you up."

Nash inclined his head in agreement. "Good point. So what are the chances his henchmen will drag me in the back room and kill me on sight?"

Kanan rubbed his goatee. "You better stay out of his sight, and let me deal with him."

"I agree wholeheartedly," Nash said. "Take Hera with you, maybe she'll distract him."

"I can handle it," Kanan said, avoiding Hera's annoyed look. He didn't want to involve her unless necessary.

"I'm going with you," Hera said. "We talked about this, Kanan. I'm the one who calls the shots about what I do, not you."

"It's not that, Hera. It's just that I don't want him to know who I've got for backup." That wasn't entirely true, and Kanan knew it, but he wasn't about to say so.

"All right, fine. I'll keep my distance," she said, in a tone that said the subject was no longer open to debate.

Kanan shrugged, turned away, and headed in the direction of Dravik. He could feel Hera behind him, and she was keeping her distance. Dravik was mingling with a group of rich-looking people, over by the Sabacc tables. He immediately spotted Kanan coming towards him, and broke away from the group, flanked by the giant who had beaten Kanan up at The Credit Chip.

"Well. Look what the gundark dragged in," Ino Dravik drawled. He was a beak-nosed Pantoran, and although well-dressed and coiffed, he somehow still always managed to look greasy. "You clean up well, Jarrus. It hasn't escaped my attention that my many attempts to contact you have gone unanswered. I assumed Arkanian got the better of you, but of course, I couldn't just take that at face value. I assume you've come to explain yourself? Or do you have Arkanian here with you?"

"I have a proposition for you."

Dravik raised an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in negotiating. Either you have him, or you don't. And if you don't...well, you're already acquainted with my bodyguard. I'm sure he'll be happy to give you some in-depth, personal attention." The giant gave Kanan a grin full of rotting teeth.

"It's not a negotiation. It's a wager." Moment of truth, Kanan thought.

"A wager?" Dravik looked amused. "Do tell."

"If I beat you in a game of Sabacc, you drop the bounty on Nash Arkanian's head. And the one that's probably on mine, now, too."

Dravik bellowed with laughter. "I've seen you play! Are you serious? Nevermind, I can see that you think you are. What do I get when I win?"

"If you win," Kanan said, "You can have Arkanian."

"In case you've forgotten, you owe me a considerable sum of credits. That's why you were looking for Nash Arkanian in the first place."

"You get Arkanian, and I capture five more bounties for you." Kanan had no intention of doing any more of Ino Dravik's dirty work.

"What's Arkanian to you, all of a sudden?" Dravik demanded.

"Brother-in-law. I married his sister," Kanan said, with a impertinent grin.

Dravik narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Kanan was joking or not. "You think you're a slick one, Jarrus. I'm going to enjoy beating you."

"Does that mean you're accepting my wager?"

"I'm accepting it. It should be a quick game, if the last one was any indication."

Kanan smirked. "I was blind drunk, last time. And I would've won, if you hadn't been cheating."

Dravik scowled darkly. "Come back in an hour. After I win, I may have my bodyguard beat you up again, just for fun."

"Looking forward to it," Kanan said. He turned and headed back towards the bar, brushing past Hera as he went.

He stepped up to the bar next to Nash, and a moment later, Hera wedged herself between them.

"It's all set up," Kanan told them.

"Good," Hera said. "He went for all of it?"

"Of course he went for it! He can't lose. I can't believe I let you two talk me into this," Nash complained.

"We talked you into this?" Hera hissed. "You're kidding, right?"

"Well," a deep yet droll voice came suddenly from behind them. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you here, Nash."

Nash did not turn around. Instead, he took a slow and deliberate sip of his brilliant blue beverage. Kanan and Hera, however, both peered over their respective shoulders to see who had spoken.

A tall, handsome, purple-skinned Twi'lek male stood there, one long lek draped over the shoulder of a very expensive-looking and well-made grey suit. He held his own brightly colored drink in one hand, and the other was tucked casually into the pocket of his jacket. The expression he wore was one of mild amusement, combined with a clear sense of his own importance; he didn't bother to spare even a glance at Hera and Kanan, keeping his light brown eyes fixed on the back of Nash's head.

Kanan looked at Hera; she was glowering at the Twi'lek from under her brows, fury gathering in her face. This, then, must be the infamous Sarat, Ryloth's representative in the Imperial Senate.

Nash placed his glass on the bar and turned, slowly, until he was facing the Twi'lek. He smiled broadly.

"Sarat. So nice to see you again," Nash said, his voice full of sarcasm.

"Oh, dear. I see that you're still angry with me. But you know, it's been months since our little jaunt to that delicious tropical paradise! I certainly expected to hear from you sooner; where have you been?" Sarat had abandoned the accent of his home world in favor of the accent most Core worlds and Imperials used, and he spoke it with a lilt that made it seem like he found everything incredibly entertaining. It grated on Kanan's nerves.

"Oh, you know me. Here, there, and everywhere. I've been keeping myself busy," Nash said, all nonchalance.

"Is that right?" Sarat asked, eyebrows raised. "I do hear the most absurd things, you know. For instance, I heard that you were hiding out on some drab little cultural backwater in the Outer Rim, with a massive bounty on your head. Isn't that interesting?"

Nash shrugged. "I guess it might be, if there were any truth to it."

"Oh, come now, Nash. You know better than to lie to me. Besides, my sources are very reliable."

"I bet they are," Nash scowled. "Still hanging around with Ino Dravik, I see."

"Mmmhmm. Well, you know, I just find what he does so exciting, and he's perfectly willing to come to Coruscant to do it...unlike some people I can think of. And, of course, he's quite wealthy. We run in the same circles. The glitterati of Coruscant, if you will."

Sarat's eyes slid to Nash's right, possibly drawn there by the rage that was now boiling in Hera's face. Sarat's eyes widened, and he laughed merrily.

"My goodness! Hera Syndulla, princess of the Tann Province! I didn't even notice you there, which is hardly to be believed, given what you look like in that dress. Shame on me! Of course, it is a bit difficult to recognize you when you're not wearing a flight suit covered in starship grease. You certainly have grown to be quite a fiery beauty; if you like, I can introduce you to any number of powerful men who would love to have you on their arm."

Kanan twitched with irritation, and the movement immediately attracted Sarat's attention.

"Gracious!" he exclaimed, looking at Kanan in disbelief. "The drinks must be strong this evening; how did I miss seeing this handsome lad? Nash, you certainly do travel with a much nicer-looking crowd these days. I wholeheartedly approve."

"That's a relief," Nash muttered.

Sarat turned his attention back to Hera, who may or may not have been working her hand towards the blaster that was undoubtedly concealed in her dress. Kanan decided that getting her away from this guy was probably in everyone's best interest, and the sooner, the better. He cleared his throat, getting ready to suggest that they go check out the Pazaak tables, but Sarat spoke first.

"How is Cham these days, Hera? I hear such discouraging things from Ryloth. Of course, I'm hardly ever there, but I have my informants. Do you know what he's been up to?"

Hera narrowed her eyes. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"I see that you're just as charming as you always were," Sarat chuckled. "But, yes, of course, I remember now. You left Ryloth a couple of years ago, isn't that right? I did get word of that; one tends to hear about it when the best pilot in the Free Ryloth Movement abandons it. My superiors were happy to hear it, of course, so thank you for that. I certainly don't blame you for leaving; it's a horrid place, truly. My whole life changed for the better, the moment I left. No doubt it was the same for you as well."

Hera's eyes were ablaze with fury, and she was no longer bothering to be subtle about digging around in her dress for her blaster. Kanan gently wound his fingers around her right wrist, halting her efforts.

Nash had moved a little closer to Hera, as if planning to tackle her if she got out of hand. "Kanan," he said, "Maybe you ought to show Hera the Holotables they've got upstairs. I think she would really enjoy that."

Sarat merely looked amused, still standing with one hand in his pocket and the other around his drink. He couldn't possibly have missed the fact that he was looking at someone who was very close to killing him, but he was utterly unperturbed by it.

Kanan pulled Hera's fingers off her blaster's grip one by one, and wrapped his own fingers firmly around them. He tugged her hand, pulling her away from the Senator. Fortunately, it seemed as though his touch had brought her back to her senses, and she did not resist. She did, however, glare at Sarat with eyes full of malice as she went by him.

"Let me kill him, Kanan," she hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. "Please."

Kanan shook his head. "You were completely against murder, when it came to the guy who wants to kill both me and your oldest friend, but now it's okay? He's a member of the Imperial Senate, Hera. You can't kill him. We'd never make it off this planet."

"You don't know what he's done. He needs to die." Hera's face was a mask of hatred, and the expression was so alien on her that he almost didn't recognize her.

"I tried to find some information about him on the HoloNet, but it was all a bunch of glowing biographies and achievements," Kanan said.

"Oh, he probably wrote all of that himself. He's his own favorite subject," Nash said, from right behind them.

Hera gasped. "Where did you come from?"

"The same place you last saw me? Honestly, Hera, that's a strange question."

"I thought you were talking to that sleemo," she growled. Kanan kept a firm hold on her hand, just in case.

"You really think I want to talk to him? What do you take me for? I'll tell you what he did, Kanan, if you really want to know. Well, the abridged version, anyway. He starved little kids, shut down med centers, took away funding for the elderly and education, to name a few. He's not a nice guy," Nash said, with a shrug. "He'll do anything to anybody, as long as it means that he gets what he wants."

Hera's expression was thunderously angry. "You always seem to understate how terrible he is. And why aren't you talking to him now, all of a sudden? Last time you saw him, you ran off with him on some kind of romantic vacation. Don't tell me I convinced you to grow a conscience."

Nash huffed. "A conscience? Me? Come on, Hera. It's really just that I was very drunk, the last time I saw him. Very drunk. I mean, I really can't overstate how drunk I was. I'm much more sober tonight."

Hera's eyes got very round as she stared at him. "That's definitely information that could have been brought to my attention before today."

"You think so little of me," Nash pouted.

Hera looked like she was ready to shoot Nash, too. "Can you give us a minute?" Kanan asked him, although the tone he used was meant to indicate that he wasn't really asking.

Nash shrugged. "I'm going to play some Pazzak," he announced, stalking away.

Kanan looked down at Hera. "I understand how you must feel, but we can't kill him, Hera."

"The way he talks about Ryloth..."

"I know."

"Thanking me for leaving! The nerve!"

"Hera," Kanan said. "We have a job to do. We can't get sidetracked. And if we want to leave this planet, we can't kill him."

The tension of anger drained out of her face and body. She looked up at him and nodded. Her hand was warm in his.

"I abandoned my father and Ryloth, Kanan," she sighed. "He's a sleemo, but he's right about that."

He squeezed her hand gently.

"He knew my guilt would make me angry; he was right about that, too."

"I'm sure you left for the right reasons," Kanan told her.

"I did. And they were," she agreed. "But it doesn't make me feel any less guilty about it."

"The guilt is hard to let go of. Believe me, I understand," Kanan said. He had a sudden strong urge to tell her how much he loved her, but instead, he just gazed at her like an idiot.

She studied his face, meeting his eyes with a similarly warm look of her own.

"Well," she said, "Let's go play some Sabacc."

Author note:

I named Hera's mother. I was just really tired of her not having a name, and patiently waiting for new Rebels media that may never come just isn't working out for me. Star Wars is just starting to show some love to the mothers, but it's not where it should be, and I find it frustrating. So I gave her a name. Rhea is the goddess Hera's mother's name. I thought it was pretty, and Rhea tries to keep her husband Cronus from eating all her babies, so that's a nice thing. Greek mythology is batsh*t insane. Did you know that Hera was impregnated by a head of lettuce?

I got a couple of comments about what Hera was going to be wearing, so I hope it was satisfying for you guys! Kanan doesn't know about dresses, so his description of it wasn't going to be all that great. Hera would pick out something classy that wasn't too revealing, and something that she could fight/run/hide her blaster in, so not too tight or form fitting. I pictured more of a 50's style dress with a sort of boat-neck cut, except with way more of a scoop neck to it, cap sleeves, and a long flowy skirt. I figured that if I was going to dress her up, I might as well go for it, so the dress is dark red. I wanted them both to wear colors that were really different than what they normally wear- which also happen to be Imperial colors (Kanan's wearing all black). Anyway, even though dresses aren't really Hera's thing, I think she's no different the rest of us- she's not opposed to the object of her affection thinking she looks (extra) beautiful. And, of course, he does. Future blind Kanan deserves some nice memories of Hera looking fancy and hot.

I listened to a lot of different things while writing this, but "Bad Time" by The Jayhawks, "Thin Air" by Pearl Jam, and "Ain't that a Kick in the Head" by Dean Martin (for the casino feel) were the main ones I kept going back to.