A/N: Absolutely 10000% gen, part of the same 'verse as "Firewall" (currently available only on my AO3 because FFN is allergic to fun formats), set somewhere in the nebulous period between SW Act 1 and Act 2.

Enjoy.

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Chapter 1

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"You're asking one of us to what?"

"Accompany me to a social function in honor of my cousin's recent promotion."

Vette, Quinn, and Jaesa exchange a series of significant glances. Vette scrunches up her face and says, "Yeah, we got that part, but can you go over the location and the guest list one more time? I got a little distracted by my common sense screaming hell no."

Evren looks shifty. "It's in Kaas City, at the family estate. A number of Imperial officers will be present, along with their spouses. And, erm, several Sith." He raises his hands against Vette and Jaesa's half-formed protests, expression verging on the desperate. "Most of them are my relatives!"

"With respect, my lord," Quinn says carefully, "that is not exactly a ringing endorsement of their stability."

"I don't kill people because they're annoying, or because they don't bow fast enough, or because it's funny and I'm bored. Most of them don't, either." He hesitates, then continues, "And while Aunt Meliah may be a vicious sadist with all the restraint of a rabid gundark, she'll be surrounded by people she can't legally murder, so really, I think things could be much, much worse—"

"Yeah, no, we are not going anywhere near your clan of evil murder-aunties, thanks," Vette says.

He winces. "All right, yes, it's an utter catastrophe waiting to happen," he says, "but you can't just leave me to their tender mercies!"

"Oh, yes we can," says Jaesa, pitiless. Vette knew there was a reason she liked her.

"Please," Evren begs. He does the Sad Eyes, big and blue and pathetic, looking between the three of them. Vette's almost—almost—moved. Jaesa seems to waver for a minute, then goes all steely and resolved. Quinn has his inscrutable face on, but Vette thinks he might be cracking.

"You've followed me into battle a hundred times," Evren says, low and earnest. "You've faced certain death and come out alive and unharmed. You are some of the most skilled and worthy people I've ever known. I would not ask this of you if I didn't believe you were more than capable of surviving a Sith dinner party." He gives the three of them a quick once-over and zeroes in on Quinn like a small fluffy animal sensing the potential for ear-scritches, or possibly more like a predator sensing weakness in something tender and juicy. Hard to tell, with him. He pins Quinn with the full force of the Sad Eyes. "Three hours, that's all it would be."

Quinn opens his mouth. And Vette is just about to cry, here, this is pitiful, this is going to be a disaster because Quinn is a fragile and vulnerable soul who cannot be expected to refuse the Sad Eyes even if he were inclined to refuse anything a superior officer asked of him—

No. This will not stand. A whole house full of Evrens with all of his scary-as-hell Force powers and none of his ridiculous if shaky sense of honor? They'll eat Quinn alive. Quinn is good at killing people, saving people from otherwise deadly injuries, flying ships, and being blisteringly efficient at everything. He is not good at dealing with mystical wizard-warriors who can crush his windpipe with their brains. Or rather, he's only good at dealing with them by total compliance, and that's just—no. She can't let him relapse; he's reached the point where he can sometimes make backhanded comments at obnoxious Sith when he has moral support and she is not going to let all that hard work go to waste thanks to Evren's evil aunts.

Damn it. "Ugh, fine, I'll go."

For some reason, everybody's suddenly staring at Vette. She blinks a few times. "What?"

Jaesa takes her hand and looks at her with the kind of grave solemnity usually reserved for law enforcement officers knocking on the door of a fallen comrade's spouse to deliver bad news. "Your courage will be remembered," she says, squeezing Vette's fingers, then dropping them like live wires and fleeing for the medbay or wherever the hell she hangs around when she's not pretending to be a cackling Sith apprentice.

Quinn says, "Well, if you insist," and then he says, "If we're done here, my lord, I really ought to recalibrate the Maelstrom's defense turrets." He, too, vanishes, without waiting for an actual dismissal. Wow, progress!

It occurs to Vette that she's just been abandoned. Evren is obviously trying not to laugh. She glares at him and pokes at his sternum. "If I find out that you meant for this to happen, you are in for a galaxy of torment," she hisses.

"I can say with complete honesty that I had no idea you were going to volunteer," he says. Snickers, more like.

"I hate you. We're dressing up, right?"

"It's a formal occasion, so yes."

She considers, then nods decisively. "We're going shopping."

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tbc