The young Padawan tiptoed as silently as he could through the meditation room, picking his way gingerly past knots of seated Jedi in various stages of advanced contemplation. His new tunic scratched uncomfortably. Tugging self-consciously at his tabbards to straighten them, the Padawan narrowly avoided an accident with a large cushion that was orbiting around an old Mon Calamari Master.
Eventually he found the person he was looking for. He was with a bald, old Jedi, as well as a female from a species the Padawan was unfamiliar with. Clearing his throat, the Padawan spoke.
"...Master?"
Jolee grunted, opened an eye and stared at the intruder. "Ain't no Master, boy. Wrong call." Having spoken, the old man turned away and resumed meditating. The Padawan scratched the back of his neck uncertainly for a moment before speaking again.
"My apologies, Master. I meant to address your friend, Master... " the boy gestured mildly at the young man seated beside Jolee, "...Revan."
"Master?" spluttered Revan in surprise. "But I've only just been... well, reinstated into the Order!"
"Hmpf," grunted Jolee, opening both eyes. "Boy's a Padawan! Padawans call every darn Jedi around who ain't a Padawan, 'Master'."
"Why's that?" queried Revan.
"It's tradition," replied Jolee. "Allegedly it teaches the virtue of humility. That's why some Jedi continue calling each other 'Master' even after they've been Knighted."
Revan couldn't help but laugh. "A mutual admiration society!"
"Will you two shut up?" hissed Juhani irritably. "This is meditation room! For the contemplation!" She glared at the Padawan. "What it is? Speak."
Anxious to finish his job, the Padawan blurted out the message he had been sent to convey at top speed.
"Master Revan, there is a Republic Lieutenant waiting outside the Temple for you, and there's a Mandalorian with him. The Lieutenant says you'll know who he is, and has asked you to meet him outside." Duty performed, the Padawan bowed and hastily left the meditation chamber.
Juhani's ears twitched. "Carth. And Canderous also. It is important, you think?" Her eyes widened. "Another attack?"
"Nah," said Jolee dismissively. "If it were, every single Jedi in this room would be out of here faster than you could say 'Sith'." The old man prodded Revan with a foot. "They probably want to buy you a drink for having saved the gala- oof!"
A large cushion appeared seemingly from nowhere and careened at high speed into Jolee's face, before abruptly changing direction and knocking Juhani over. Revan ducked in time to avoid being buffeted by the rogue cushion himself. Scrambling to his feet, he exited the meditation room to forestall any successful attempt on his dignity.
The old Mon Calamari Master burbled contentedly in his throat, re-crossed his legs, and resumed his contemplations.
"Carth, what is this place!"
The Republic officer grinned, shrugged off his flight jacket and tossed it to the pink-skinned Twi'lek girl at the counter. Catching the article of clothing expertly, the girl flashed a brilliant smile at Carth and his two companions. "Suite two eighty-four. Down the red corridor, fifth room on your right. I've set up your tab. Enjoy!"
Placing a hand firmly on either of Revan's shoulders, Carth and Canderous steered their friend down a dusky red corridor lined with sculptures of human and humanoid figures in various states of undress, of the sort very often diplomatically referred to as 'artistic'. Soon, Revan found himself standing in front of a snazzy-looking door, whose switch Canderous activated with a flourish.
"Revan, old buddy," announced Carth. "Welcome to Coruscant!" The Republic officer pushed the Jedi into the room. Revan let out a sharp bark of surprise.
"Carth! What the - there's a - by the Force...! A dancing-pole? This isn't what I think it is, right?" A slender pole sprouted from the centre of a little stage located in the middle of the room. The sides of the pole gleamed softly in the light, which slowly cycled through a spectrum of colours. As the lights played across the stage, soft, sultry dancing music started playing.
The Republic officer guffawed and thumped Revan enthusiastically on the back. "Depends what you're thinking, buddy! This is a gentleman's club. Best in Coruscant, or so say the top brass..." Grabbing Revan's arm, Carth pulled him towards a plush sofa facing the stage. "Sit down, I'll pour you a drink!"
"Bastila's going to kill me," Revan groaned. He rubbed his face in his hands and peeked out through his fingers. There were four Bith musicians in the corner nearest the stage, and they had just struck up a tune.
Canderous let out a long, slow whistle. "Mandalore's balls, Onasi!" Pushing Carth out of the way, the Mandalorian commenced a thorough examination of the bar's contents.
"...Corellian Ale... juma juice, Bespin port - three kinds of port? - brandy... Alderaanian brandy! ...rose juice... Sullustan gin... more gin... beer, gotta have beer - Arkanian sweet milk?" Canderous' head bobbed up from behind the bar, his expression ecstatic. "I love this place! Holy mother of Mandalore - " he held up a bottle of something " - Gizer ale...!" Grabbing as many bottles of drink as he could carry, the Mandalorian gleefully clambered onto the sofa facing the stage.
"One for you, one for Carth... three for me!" Dropping an unopened bottle of drink into each of his friends' laps, Canderous settled happily on the opposite end of the sofa from Carth and started opening bottles. The Republic officer grinned, reached for Revan's bottle, opened it and thrust it at the dismayed Jedi.
"Bottoms up, buddy!" Upending his bottle, Carth chugged down its contents with practised ease. Revan sniffed at his drink. The fumes tickled his nasal linings. He took a sip and swallowed cautiously.
"Ugh...!" Revan choked, and started coughing. Carth and Canderous laughed uproariously as Revan glared at each man in turn. "What was that! It's borderline toxic!"
Canderous wiped away a froth moustache and sniffed the bottle held by Revan. "Smells like Antakarian Fire Dancer... good stuff." The Mandalorian drained off the rest of his ale, burped in satisfaction, and reached for a second bottle.
"'Good stuff'?" protested Revan loudly. "Only if you fancy drinking paint-stripper...!"
"Drink up, Revan," intoned Carth in his best Commanding Officer voice. "This is your bachelor party. It's traditional."
"Bachelor party! Traditional!" exclaimed Revan. "Only if you're Corellian! The last I checked, you were Telosian, Canderous is Mandalorian, and I'm -" Revan trailed off uncertainly "- apparently from Deralia."
"Which, technically, is only where you think you're from," Canderous pointed out.
"You could be from anywhere in the Galaxy," continued Carth, raising his bottle meaningfully.
"Anywhere there's Humans," elaborated the Mandalorian. "Which, basically, is..."
"...anywhere," filled in the Republic officer. He prodded Revan with an elbow. "Including Corellia."
"We've decided you're Corellian," Canderous informed him cheerfully. "Bottoms up!"
Revan sank back into the sofa in disbelief. It just had to be Corellia, didn't it? Conspiracy!
He sighed. "Could I at least use a straw?"
Helena Shan tilted her head and pulled at an earlobe. "Has he given it to you yet?"
Bastila frowned. 'It'? What? What was Mother talking about? She blinked at the sick woman in confusion.
Helena raised her eyes to the ceiling and muttered. "Silly girl - didn't your teachers in the Order tell you anything about life?"
About life? Bastila furrowed her brows and considered carefully. Oh. Oh.
"Mother - really! I - my teachers taught me lots of things, Mother...! I know the facts of life! About, well - babies, and... where they come from, and... you know. Stuff." Bastila gestured vaguely in the air about her. Poor Mother - the medicine she was on must really be strong if she was talking about... stuff... and in her condition, too! Bastila poured herself another mug of hot water.
Helena stared at her daughter in amazement. The silly girl - she had misunderstood entirely! 'Stuff'? Is that what she prefers to call it, 'stuff'? Fighting the urge to laugh, Helena turned her face away and coughed into her pillow. Behind her, Bastila jumped up and started patting her on the back.
"Should I call a medic, Mother?" asked Bastila.
"Just a stray hair," lied Helena, coughing more into her pillow for effect. "Some water would do."
As Bastila hastened to oblige, Helena composed herself, putting on her most serious look.
"So - did he?"
Bastila nearly dropped the carafe of water she was pouring out from. "Mother!" She turned around. "What a question...!"
Helena shrugged nonchalantly. "He will, sooner or later - it's only a matter of time. You two will be getting married, after all."
The mortified look that etched itself into her daughter's face would amuse Helena until her dying day. Bastila opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it - then, as if a suitable retort had presented itself to her mind, she opened her mouth again... and then shut it a once more.
"Well?" Helena raised an eyebrow. "Has he?"
"Mother!" whined Bastila.
The sick woman affected surprise. "It's only natural, you know. Most women would think of it as a..." Helena shrugged again, and gestured with her hands, "...planet-shaking, galaxy-ending event... though, of course, that would depend on the size of the specimen in question..."
Size! What? Thoroughly scandalised, Bastila stared aghast at her mother. "Mother, we share living quarters with two others - one of them's a Cathar, for goodness' sake - do you honestly think - "
"I don't see the problem," quipped Helena. "You can hardly expect me to believe that your housemates follow you two around like lost puppies all day! Private moments, just the two of you... alone together... it doesn't have to take hours, you know."
Bastila reddened. "Just because we share a room -"
"- there, you said it, you share a room! ...so there's opportunity..."
"Revan is a decent man -"
"All the better - you only want it from a decent man -"
Bastila goggled. "Mother! You got on his case the last time we were here about how he should 'be decent' to me - and now you're saying... I can't believe I'm hearing this!" She clapped her hands to either side of her face in disbelief.
Helena regarded her daughter amusedly. "What are you gibbering about, you silly girl?"
The meds, thought Bastila. It's the meds. It has to be the meds - "Stuff, of course - you brought it all up!"
"What 'stuff'?" queried Helena mercilessly.
"Do I have to spell it out, Mother? You were asking about - about really private things... stuff! Between Revan. And I." Bastila went from red to puce.
The eyebrow moved upwards again. "You thought I was asking if you and Revan have had sex?"
"Well, you were! ...weren't you!"
Smirking, Helena shifted some of the pillows behind her. "I'd very much like to know why you thought so."
"Mother...!" squeaked Bastila weakly. It had dawned on her that she had been talking at cross-purposes all along.
"I was asking about a ring. An engagement ring. What made you think about sex, I'll never fathom - what they taught you in that Order of yours, I can't imagine..."
"You're back late," observed Bastila as she opened the door. "Everyone's in bed. Did you have to see the Council again?"
"No," said Revan as he bent to unlace his boots. Co-ordinating his fingers had become monumentally difficult. Bastila sniffed the air and made a face.
"Ugh - is that alcohol?" Grabbing Revan's shoulder, she pulled him closer and sniffed at his jaw. "Revan! You've been drinking!"
Revan kicked off his footwear and headed for their room, his walk admirably straight for one who had been nursing an Antakarian Fire Dancer all evening. "Carth and Canderous."
"Carth and Canderous! What was the occasion? How come I didn't get invited? Where did you go?"
Bastila trailed Revan back to their room, continuing to talk at him along the way. "Did you have a lot to drink? You have to be careful about that, remember what happened on Dantooine at that wedding - with me and the wine? Ugh, never again. Anyway, how long were you all drinking? I hope you didn't engage in a drinking contest with Carth - or Canderous - one's a fish and the other's positively alcoholic... I was at the hospital most of the day. Mother was... difficult, as per normal. She asked a lot of... strange questions. Why are you lying on the bed in your dirty clothes!"
Through the haze of alcohol, Revan registered that Bastila was tugging at his sleeve, urging him to get up off the bed and have a shower, didn't he realise how dusty Coruscant was, and this was the bed she was going to sleep in, and his tunic looked filthy and smelt of alcohol, hadn't he better go wash up? Too much information. His mind rebelled, and decided that it had had enough nonsense for one day, and was shutting down for the night.
He fell asleep.
"...and there are even noodles on your tu-" Soft snoring. Bastila peered closely at Revan and pinched him. No response. She pinched him again, harder. The soft snores continued.
"Great," muttered Bastila. "A dirty, dusty man who reeks of alcohol is sleeping diagonally on my bed."
She briefly attempted moving Revan to a more reasonable position, but abandoned the effort when a packet of half-eaten fried snacks hidden in the folds of Revan's tunic emptied its crumbled contents across the bedsheet.
"What are you doing in the tub?" exclaimed Revan.
Bastila glared up poisonously at him. "I was sleeping in the tub."
"Whatever for?"
"Because last night, an unwashed barbarian with noodles on his clothes and alcohol on his breath fell asleep in an impossible position on the bed, and refused to be moved."
"I woke up last night and wondered where you were!"
"Here. In the tub."
Revan gawped at Bastila. "You actually slept in that!" He started laughing, much to Bastila's annoyance.
"The more pertinent issue is: you actually slept in that," retorted Bastila, indicating the crumpled clothes Revan was wearing. "With two noodles and a half-empty packet of snacks for company."
Still laughing, Revan picked off the stray noodles and extricated a sorry-looking packet from his tunic. He binned the lot. "I'm sorry, Princess. I'll clean up." Sitting on the edge of the tub, Revan bent over to kiss Bastila: she swatted at him.
"You haven't told me where you went," she complained. "What was the occasion?"
"Our friends decided that I was Corellian, and decided to 'follow tradition'."
"Corellian tra - oh! They gave you a party? That's nice..." Bastila sat up and started gathering the bedding she had piled into the tub. "...they didn't bring you anywhere dodgy, did they?" She narrowed her eyes and peered dubiously at Revan, who did his best to look innocent.
"Carth said it was a perfectly respectable club, I mean, joint," offered Revan. He caught the pillow before it could hit his face.
"A club! Oh, I know where those two reprobates brought you - it was one of those sleazy 'gentleman's clubs' with dancing girls and, and... they're hardly wearing anything, or... or they take things off - and sit on your lap and - " Bastila raised her voice " - that is just disgusting, I can't believe the nerve of those two - no, actually I can! - Carth Onasi and Canderous Ordo, you are so. In. Trouble."
"Oh, good - you're not angry at me." Smiling, Revan leant in and attempted to kiss Bastila again.
Bastila raised the pillow she was holding on to, and waved it threateningly. "Did you watch the show? I will know if you are lying," she warned.
"Watch the show!" echoed Revan. "You must be joking! The only thing I watched all evening was my drink, because I didn't trust either of those two not to put any more alcohol into it when I wasn't looking!"
"Really?"
"Really."
"Then why did you literally pass out?"
"You try drinking an Antarkarian Fire Dancer, and tell me if you manage not to," said Revan. "Can I kiss you now?"
Bastila made a face, but did not push him away this time. "You're still filthy," she complained, as Revan's lips hovered over hers.
In reply, Revan chucked the pillows and other bedding out of the tub entirely. "Won't be for long," he said as he kissed Bastila.
It was, thought Bastila, a thoroughly enjoyable kiss - once she got over the alcohol on Revan's breath. So wrapped up in the moment was she that she failed to notice his arm sneaking behind her, and onto the water controls, until it was too late.
"Revan! The water! Turn it off! Turn it off!" squealed Bastila. Revan roared with laughter.
"You're crazy!" cried Bastila, as she clambered out of the tub, drenched.
"Smart girl," said Revan, still laughing.
"My hair is wet!"
"So it is."
"And my clothes are soaked!"
"You could take them off," suggested Revan, a cheeky grin on his face.
Bastila stabbed Revan in the shoulder with an accusing finger. "You did this on purpose!"
"Guilty as charged, Princess," said Revan, as he took off his tunic. "So do you want to join me, or do you prefer to watch?"
Outside the 'fresher, Jolee listened as the voices - Bastila's raised, and Revan's a low murmur - faded and were gradually replaced by the sound of a shower going. Laughing to himself, the old Jedi tiptoed away and went to place a call.
Carth's comlink buzzed, and Canderous answered it. "Yeah?" The Mandalorian listened intently for a few seconds and grinned.
"Kark yeah - thank you, old man. 'Bout friggin' time. Yeah. Yeah, fifty-fifty. Meet you later."
Tossing the comlink aside, the Mandalorian strode over to the couch where Carth lay with a hot towel on his face. He kicked the reclining man gently on the shin.
"Eh, pay up, flyboy."
Carth lifted a corner of the towel. "Seriously! For real?"
"Jolee just called. Oi, he's perfectly neutral, remember? Bugger takes half of the winnings - whoever wins. S'pay up."
"Frackin' hilarious, those two," said Carth, replacing the towel. He motioned to a jacket thrown carelessly across a chair. "Front left chest pocket."
The Mandalorian retrieved the credits, pocketed a hundred, and returned the remainder.
"What shall we bet on next?"