Kanan Jarrus (
notallofus) wrote2017-11-25 10:05 pm
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that time they were undercover married
So imagine there's a woman. You love her, and you want her, and you're partners in everything, and there's very little you hide anymore, and it's good that way, the greatest, but you're not . . . You're not together. Like that.
Now imagine that there's a mission, and it involves a sudden opening in someone's social calendar, and this opening involves a fancy party for married couples where lips are guaranteed to be loose, wine and spice flow like rain, and some very valuable materials and information will be less guarded for six hours than they ever will be again.
Imagine that the person who provided the opening is a Twi'lek, and she has a husband, and it's their slots that someone has to be prepared to take at this shindig.
"I think whoever made these pants cut them a little too tight."
Uh.
"My dear."
Now imagine that there's a mission, and it involves a sudden opening in someone's social calendar, and this opening involves a fancy party for married couples where lips are guaranteed to be loose, wine and spice flow like rain, and some very valuable materials and information will be less guarded for six hours than they ever will be again.
Imagine that the person who provided the opening is a Twi'lek, and she has a husband, and it's their slots that someone has to be prepared to take at this shindig.
"I think whoever made these pants cut them a little too tight."
Uh.
"My dear."

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She smiles up to him, and takes another false sip of her wine. "Maybe we should -"
"Look at you!" A middle-aged human appears behind Hera, wobbling as she approaches and grabbing Hera's shoulder for balance. "You look so beautiful, you know, I have always envied you Twi'leks, you're always so lean -"
"That's so kind of you," Hera interrupts, switching to her Rylothian accent. She doesn't miss a beat, her voice earnest, though Kanan might notice the strain in her smile now, or her slightly tighter hold on him.
"I'm Rihn, and this is my husband. It's nice to meet you."
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"I'm the decorative one."
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Before actually reaching up and patting his jaw.
Hera exhales, a little loud, but the stranger doesn't seem to be paying them much attention, now turning over her shoulder to call to another human a short distance away. "Delian dear, come here, aren't they such a pretty young couple?"
The woman she's beckoning looks older, stress lined in her face and watery eyes, and in temperament could not appear more different from her companion. Her white hair was tied back in a tight bun, and she wore an Imperial uniform, her plaque indicating a rank of Lieutenant General, though the uniform looked faded and slightly wrinkled. Her mouth was pinched into a tight frown, and only seemed to sour further when she blinked to them, her eyes lingering on Hera.
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"I hope we're not intruding."
This could be a real problem. Somehow he'd never expected the former Moff of Ryloth here. Thank the Force Hera doesn't really look like Cham to most non-Twi'lek eyes.
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"It's not my party," she answers, her voice gruff. Her partner pats her shoulder.
"Oh, dear, but don't they look lovely? Delian used to work in the Ryloth system, you know."
"That's ancient history, Elsi," Mors snaps, undertone. Hera presses her glass to her lips again, this time allowing herself a very small sip.
"I'm afraid I haven't returned to Ryloth in many years," she says, once she's lowered her glass again.
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"There's always another one to drop down on, investigate, check out the night life . . . "
Elsi smiles conspiratorially.
"For me it's the shopping. Any world with fancy enough good, and I'd be there in a heartbeat."
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"Anywhere we stop near a decent galleria, he's gone for the day, and who ends up with the bill?" She playfully nudges his shoulder.
Mors, meanwhile, stands stiffly by, hands tightly folded behind her back. Her bitter expression hasn't change, but her eyes are unfocused, and she doesn't seem to be paying any particular attention to this conversation.
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"But it keeps me out of the house, right?"
His gaze twists to Mors for a moment, and he looks shamefaced.
"Oh dear, are we boring you, Lieutenant General?"
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"You'll have to forgive Delian," Elsi wraps her own arm around Mors, made somewhat more difficult when Mors makes no shift in her stiff stance. "She's always thinking about work."
"I'd imagine you must stay busy," Hera says, with a tentative glance at Mors.
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"I always forgive for that, my dear. Where would the Empire be without such devoted officers?"
Ugh. Here's hoping his tiny sip of drink doesn't come right back up.
Elsi tugs Mors in a little, then lets her go almost immediately.
"You see? Some people do appreciate devotion to duty!"
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Hera's smile fades slightly, though her eyes don't flicker. "I am only interested in business, and thanks to the peace of the Empire, my business has been thriving."
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"And that business is what lets us travel as much as I like, so there you go."
Elsi pats Mors' arm again, still smiling.
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Then -
“I need a drink.”
“Oooh, I saw a droid with Toniray over by the windows.” Elsi takes Mors’ arm again, beaming at Kanan and Hera. “It was so nice to meet you!”
“You as well,” Hera says, her smile returning.
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He even offers a tiny finger-waggling wave as they go.
Then he leans down to tilt his cheek near Hera's, giving the impression -- to onlookers, of course -- that he's pressed his lips there.
"So that went well."
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Undertone, "It could have gone worse."
That sounds more like her.
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He lifts his head at that, smiling that same cheerful smile as before, with Elsi.
"Maybe we should wander a little, make small talk between ourselves, keep an ear out for anything . . . interesting?"
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She lifts her glass to her lips again, and then suggests, "Maybe we can head toward the Moff by that hoverfountain."
A current Moff will probably have more to say than a former one, even one lucky enough to survive with a demotion.
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Kanan's smile doesn't fade off his face, though he does lift his own glass to his mouth, holding it there for a second.
"Shall we go admire it, then? Which one of us gets to be snobby about art?"
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Then he rests his hand on Hera's arm and sweeps off in that direction.
"Art, they call this," he says, as they approach the hoverfountain. "It's certainly a novel application of the technology, but isn't that more engineering?"
He can keep this up for hours. He's not going to, but he could!
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If 'charming' means 'gaudy and ostentatious.' But the Moff looks up from his drink, his eyebrows raised. He glances at Hera, but immediately turns to Kanan.
"Your... companion has taste," he remarks, his Core drawl halting briefly on the second word.
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He can't help it, the whole . . . thing just makes his skin crawl, even here. Especially here.
"Rihn, darling, here's someone who shares your artistic sensibilities. I thought their like didn't exist elsewhere in the galaxy, and I am at last proven wrong."
It's fond as he says it, though, because of course it would be.
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"And how did you two get in here?" he asks, voice already bored, as though he couldn't be bothered to find a more polite way to ask the question.
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Kanan smiles and smiles.
"Rihn makes a lot of influential business deals, and what keeps the credits flowing keeps everyone happy."
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At this point, Hera isn't expecting much response from the Moff. But that might not be such a bad thing.
"I've heard good things about your work in the Vorzyd Sector," she continues.
Very grudgingly, the Moff looks back to her. "You do a lot of business in the Vorzyd sector?"
"Of course," Hera smiles again. "And we're thankful the Empire has reduced our rates of delayed and lost shipments there."
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