Peer Pressure

Scene 1.

Obi-Wan stared at his mentor in abject horror.

The tall Jedi master's mouth tightened into a disproving line. "Master Tholme has asked me this favor during his absence, and I expect you to lend your considerable talent and charm to its accomplishment. There is no harm in asking you to keep company with a fellow student for a few days. What objection, Padawan, do you harbor against easing another Jedi's path?"

"This is Quinlan Vos we are speaking of, master. Need I say more?"

Qui-Gon raised a brow. "You would be wise not to say any more, I think."

The young Jedi bristled. "Yes, master."

"Good. Off you go." He watched his apprentice gather up his cloak with an elegant asperity, silently stalking toward the door and his onerous duty.

"Oh – and, Obi-wan?"

The young Jedi paused expectantly upon the threshold.

"I shall consider this a fair measure of your progress in fundamental diplomatic skill."

The Padawan dipped his head, respectful posture displaying the proper attitude to be adopted toward his new assignment, flashing eyes eloquently conveying –by contrast- his actual estimation of its merits. And then he was gone.

"Brat," Qui-Gon grumbled to himself.