| ***** Knock-Knock-Knock! "I’ll go, master!" Obi-Wan was out of his seat and away from his studies quicker than a Hutt at a slave girl auction. Qui-Gon was just about ready to pull his hair out. There had been about nine or ten of these intrusions on his privacy in the last couple of hours, and every time it was the same: "Master Jinn, would you like to sponsor me for the Cantina–crawl tomorrow?" How he would have loved to tell them, in the politest way of course, to shove off. The door opened to reveal the curvaceous figure of Jemmiah Gleshan. "How’s the money scrounge going?" Obi-Wan’s face lit up with delight as she dusted the briefest of kisses against his cheek. "I’m doing VERY well!" she grinned back. "You would not believe the number of people I’ve managed to get to sign this form." She waved the flimsy-plast under his nose to emphasize her words. "For some unknown reason, everyone seems real keen to give me their credits." She craned her neck and saw the disapproving figure of Qui-Gon hovering in the background. "Howsitgoin, Master Jinn?" she drawled in lazy Corellian. "In basic, please, so that I may understand." Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat. "How are you, dearest Master Jinn? It’s a frightfully nice evening, don’t you think? Brilliant weather, the flowers are singing, the birds are blooming and the permacrete buildings are simply marvelous, wouldn’t you agree?" She said in the precisely replicated tones of Obi-Wans’ voice. Kenobi shook his head. Qui-Gon just stared at her. "Oh, not impressed, evidently." She sighed. "Can I come in?" Obi-Wan was about to say that given his masters’ current frame of mind that might not be such a good idea, but she had already squeezed past him, making damned sure that Qui-Gon saw her brush his padawan as she did so. If he was going to be so stiff-necked, she was going to do her best to wind him up. "Will this take long?" Qui-Gon asked. She looked slightly hurt, but recovered her composure admirably. "Two things," she said, "firstly, the all important list of who’s coming to the big event. Peruse it at your leisure." She studied Qui-Gon a moment. "How’s your sponsorship coming along, Master Jinn?" Qui-Gon, like Healer Leona before him, wished Jemmiah wasn’t cursed with that Corellian intuition thing. She’d been at the apartment for barely one minute before she’d put her finger on the source of Qui-Gon’s bad mood. He had hardly any names on his list. "Fine." He said defensively. She spotted his sponsor list on the table and picked it up. "Is that it?" She said incredulously. "Yes," he snapped, snatching it back. "You’re not doing it right." She shook her head. "Master Jinn, you have to sell yourself in these situations. I have," she shrugged, "and look where it’s got me!" She brandished her sponsor sheet at him, so that he could witness the many names that she had collected. He glared at it and took it from her. How did she get so many? He continued reading the top of the form… All male sponsors will receive one kiss on receipt of credits, it said. He stared at her coldly. "What is this?" He pointed to the wording. "Oh, that. Well, I s’pose that’s why I’ve been so successful in my sponsorship drive. Gotta give ‘em something for their money, other than us just staggering about blind drunk from one cantina to another." She smiled. "It was Obi-Wans’ idea." "Yours?" queried Qui-Gon. "What sort of relationship do you two have?" "But it’s good!" Jemmiah blinked. "This way we get lots of money. If we were relying on you and Master Windu to raise credits, the temple wouldn’t have a serviceable fresher, let alone a decent Hospital! And I’ve had loads of pledges. Master Fin-Tial said he’d love to give me a large donation," she frowned, "but his wife might complain if he did." Qui-Gon nearly choked. "You keep away from Master Fin-Tial. He has a reputation for…that sort of thing." "What sort of thing?" She feigned innocence. "Nevermind. Just do as your told." "But he promised me he’d see I was well rewarded for my efforts." She said, pouting. Did he,Qui-Gon thought, angrily. He’d have to see about that! "I am sure he did." He turned to his padawan. "You might want to be a bit more careful in future who you let your girlfriend converse with. Far be it for me to decry a fellow Jedi Master, but that man put the Lech in Lecherous. I would suggest that you rethink before accepting anything he has to offer." "Oh, dear." Jemmiah hung her head. "What?" Qui-Gon asked in deepest dread. "He sort of invited himself along. To help keep an eye on...things." "Things." Jinn snorted. "Uh-huh." Sith! Qui-Gon thought. It’ll be like a child let loose in a candy store. He scanned the list of the many young, female padawans that had joined up for the event and his eyes eventually fell on Jemmiahs’ name. He had the horrible feeling that Fin-Tial would do much the same. "This is going to be a complete nightmare." He stated with conviction, like a prophet of doom. "You’re just saying that ‘coz you’ve only got Master Windu and Master Berlingside to sponsor you." She piped up. "What was the other reason you came here." Jinn struggled to keep his patience. "Huh? Oh, yes. I wondered if you wanted to join the multitude and sponsor me!" She winked at Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, but knew he was more or less obliged to do so. He didn’t want the other padawans, or even his own, making remarks about how incredibly tight-fisted he was. He mumbled something as he put his own name to the list. "That’s really good of you Master Jinn." Jemmiah smiled. "Although I REALLY think you should sponsor Healer Leona as well. That would make her day." "Pardon?" Jinn frowned. "Nothing." The innocent mask slipped back into place. "Shall I give you your kiss now or will you wait?" "Say goodbye to your boyfriend and vacate my premises, Jemmiah." He warned. "What? Can I not make an old man very happy?" She teased. "Yes. You can go away." He held the door open for her. Jemmiah’s face fell as she quickly grabbed her sponsor list and marched towards the door. "Jemmy!" Obi-Wan called after her. He gave his master a Look-what-you’ve-done glare. "Come back. He was only joking." "Really," she said sarcastically. "Where are you going?" Obi-Wan demanded. "I’m going to see if An-Paj is on the market for a seventh wife!" She yelled as she stormed away. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Thanks a lot, master." "I was only teasing her back." "I think you over did it." He sulked. "Again." ***** "Sponsor list?" she repeated, trying to hide her surprise. Jemmiah handed Leona a flimsy-plast. "Of course, you need to record the names of all those contributing. You did know that you didn't you?" the girl asked with a knowing smile. "Well, yes...of course." Leona lied miserably. "Well, you'd better get a move on before people go broke. I've already hit just about everybody in the temple" Jemmiah proudly produced her long list of names. The assistant healer looked at it blankly, again wondering what she had gotten herself into. That had been earlier in the morning and she still hadn't found enough courage to ask a single soul for sponsorship. She had been about to ask Master An-Paj but Simeon had already beaten her to it and she felt somewhat embarrassed when he made a point of asking for her sheet in front of the padawan. "Now I hope you plan on getting more names on this thing before the event." he teased signing his name on the very first line. "You've got to show these young folks how it’s done." Great, she thought, a competition. Just what she was looking for. By mid-afternoon she found herself walking the lower levels of Coruscant. She had some time to herself and most often spent it away from the temple. At least out here she really was a stranger, and that fact was oddly comforting. It really was a wonder that she managed to be a Jedi at all. She could thank the midi-chlorians for that, and of course Master Truson. He had picked the shy, insecure little girl to be his padawan learner and apprentice healer sensing something in her she herself did not. She had never thought about the healing arts but found as his apprentice a side of herself actually blossomed with confidence. It was so easy to lose oneself in one's work and she always found ways to keep herself busy in that way. If only she could find the same confidence in the rest of her life. Soon she found herself in one of her favorite places, Narn's Caffe Cafe. "A large caff and cocoa with whipped cream." she ordered from the man behind the counter. Taking a seat on one of the high stools by the large window she sat looking at the flimsy-plast thinking about how was she going to get more sponsors when a familiar figure stopped in front of her waving. Within seconds the scantily clad woman pushed her way through the door and joined her. The blue-skinned Twi'lek embraced her energetically, "Jedi P'lila, what have you been up to?" she inquired gaily. The Twi'lek woman was an acquaintance from time she spent at the free clinic on the lowest levels of Coruscant. There she treated any number of beings for any number of ailments, this woman being among them. After being helped with her work related injury the Twi'lek had saw fit to hang around and help where she could. "So," Leona asked, "are you still, er, working?" "Like a Bantha dear, just doing what comes natural for a Twi'lek." she answered with lusty chuckle, tossing an errant head-tail over her bare shoulder. "And what pray tell brings you to the bowels of Coruscant?" "A need for a walk and good cup of caff." Leona answered thoughtfully. Spying the flimsy-plast, the Twi'lek snatched it up. "What's this?" she asked as she read it. "A cantina-crawl?" her voice filled with mirth. "Since when did the Jedi go for this sort of thing?" "It's a charity event to raise money for the infirmary at the temple." Leona explained, trying to make it sound respectful. "And you're going?" the blue woman's lips trembled lightly, a dubious smile held at bay. "Well, it is for a good cause. I'm only trying to do my part." the healer answered demurely. "And a small part it is" the Twi’lek, teased amiably, referring to the single name on the sheet. Leona was about to explain her lack of sponsors when the Twi'lek's eyes suddenly brightened, her head-tails twitching excitedly. "I gonna help you." she stated boldly, standing up, flimsy in hand. "Where are you going?" Leona asked with growing concern. "Never you mind. You stay right here, I'll be back in an hour." she said with a devious grin and was gone before Leona could object. Within the hour she returned carrying a heavy sack. Tossing it down in front of the healer with a pleased smirk she handed the flimsy-plast back. The healer gaped at it with disbelief. Every line was taken, the sheet was full. Upon closer examination she noticed a number of names repeated...many times. There were six John Smith's, five Dorf Sudrous and a number of Bal Tarnak's. Looking up questioningly the Twi’lek merely shrugged. "You can't expect client's to give their real names can you?" she asked matter of factly. Opening the sack with trepidation Leona was speechless to find it filled with credits. The Twi'lek laughed at the startled look on the healer's face. "And don't worry" she said to the mute healer, "your sponsors are accustomed to paying cash up front." ***** Jemmiah marched onwards, a furious blaze of Corellian indignation shouldering roughly past everyone she came across on her way to the healers. Qui-Gon always brought out the worst in her, especially recently, and the mood she was in at the moment was particularly black. Five weeks ago, she’d have laughed off his dismissal of her. Now she took it as a personal slight. She was a well-known sight in and around the Jedi Temple, and had been for the past six years. It wasn’t just her clothes, or sometimes a lack of them, which marked her out from all the other residents. She was one of the few people allowed on the premises who had no connection with the force and Jemmiah had always reckoned that made her pretty special. OK. So he hates me, she thought. Qui-Gon hates me. I go out with his blue eyed boy for a month and he treats me like I fell out of a Nerfs’ behind. Is that fair? What is so wrong with me? I mean, he used to like me and now he’s sitting up there regretting the day he ever brought me to Coruscant. This is the most Sithly day I have had in a long time. Firstly I get told by my so-called friends that I look like a doxy, then Qui-Gon warns me to stay away from lecherous middle-aged Jedi, like I have no common sense whatsoever! Then he as good as throws me out of his apartment. Sith! Sith! Sith! Do I get too angry sometimes? Qui-Gon thinks I do. He says I’m volatile and unpredictable, like I’m some kind of cataclysmic geological disaster just waiting to erupt. I’m just Corellian. Well, I’ll show him, Mister Frosty Jedi Master! You just wait ‘till Healer Leona gets her claws into you on the Cantina-crawl! And I’ll be there to encourage her every step of the way! Clutching her all-important sheet of flimsy-plast, she hurried towards the local torture center or the healers' domain, as it was correctly known. She preferred to call it the dungeon of doom. It was not usually a place that one would willingly walk towards of their own free will. Usually because you couldn’t walk in the first place… Simeon, she thought. Cates will sponsor me. Heck, I’ll have to kiss him. The sacrifices one makes for the temple. She gathered her courage into her hands. She WOULD do it. It was one more name that Master Jinn did not have on his list. It was one of the many indignities she was prepared to endure to get one over on the tall master who had slighted her so cruelly infront of his padawan. Determined, she lowered her head like a Nargotrian Bull and strode onwards. Let’s face it, she thought, it wasn’t as if the day could get any worse… Padawan Healer Dimallie rounded the corner the other way, not looking where she was going. She heard Simeon Cates calling something at her and turned her head to hear what he had to say. "What was that?" Leonas’ young assistant asked. "I said, you shouldn’t have so many of those boxes stacked on top of each other." Cates repeated as he watched the swamped, petite figure of the apprentice healer struggle with several large, awkward looking containers. "You should only carry three at a time. If you drop them, An-Paj will completely do his top. The equipment’s really heavy. Not to mention expensive." "If you were any kind of a gentleman, you’d offer to help me." She retorted somewhat breathlessly. "I’ve got my three." He said. "I can’t see where I’m going." She complained. "Then put them down! Make a return journey. The way you’re going, you’ll probably…" There was an unexpected collision and a muffled scream from Dimallie, as she tried valiantly to stop the containers from toppling over. She’d run into something, she knew that much, but as she juggled with the boxes the top one flew open and some of the equipment tipped out. "Simeon!" She yelled. "Help!" Cates set his containers on the ground and raced over to see if any of the fallen equipment had broken. Dimallie steadied the remaining boxes, arms and legs splayed for support. "Is it bad?" She swallowed, dreading what An-Paj would say. "Sith!" swore Simeon. "I’ll say! Put those down and get one of the healers over quick smart. I think you’ve just brained Kenobis’ girlfriend!" "What!" Dimallie panicked, trying to lay down the rest of the packages. She peeked round and saw Jemmiah lying on the floor. "Hurry up!" Simeon shouted crossly. An-Paj was NOT going to be pleased. Healer Ferdi Xadaani was on hand to assess the worst of the damage. She glanced at the nervous Dimallie, who stood a few paces further back, wringing her hands in dismay. Simeon craned his head. "Is she ok?" "I don’t know. Head wounds have a nasty habit of looking worse than they are, but it’s a bit difficult to tell." She straightened up. "I’m going to have to tell An-Paj." Dimallie looked at the floor. "But…" "But nothing, Simeon. We’re going to have to contact her guardian at the crèche. Get her over." "She’s not here. She’s off planet, at cousins’ wedding or something. That’s what Jemmiah told me, anyway." "Right. Then I expect that An-Paj will be wanting to speak to Master Jinn instead." Simeon and Dimallie looked at each other, horrified. "I can tell you one thing. There’s no way she’s going to be allowed out for this Cantina-crawl to drink alcohol all night. Not with a head wound and probable concussion. No go, I’m afraid." She walked off, leaving Simeon to shudder at the thought of an irate Qui-Gon. The man could be VERY scary, sometimes. Not to mention overprotective of his charges. Hell, he thought. I’m sorry, Jemmy. But I promise you one thing: I’ll get you to that Cantina-crawl, even if I have to smuggle you out of this ward all by myself! ***** "Who are all these people?" Leona asked, staring at the long list of sponsors Sybelle produced. "Griff's friends." Sybelle answered nonchalantly, gazing at her nails. "How did you persuade a bunch of smugglers to sponsor a Jedi on a cantina crawl?" Harkley asked suspiciously. "I have my ways." Sybelle smiled. "Are these the same as Jemmy's ways?" Letina asked, with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice. "Or worse." muttered Jay Abran. "Excuse me!" Sybelle exclaimed. "I am not in the habit of selling my body in order to fund my drinking habits!" "Sybelle, you aren't going to start badmouthing Jemmy are you?" Letina asked angrily. "Girlies, please!" Abran shouted. "What we're really interested in is what devious trick Sybelle used to get all this money." "Ok, since you asked." Sybelle muttered. "I simply promised them some information in return for the money." "What kind of information?" Harkley asked. "Access to the Temple's computer." Sybelle replied casually. Time seemed to stop. "What did you say?" Leona whispered into the stony silence. "Only for a week. Then I'll change the codes. They need to find out something about trading routes." Sybelle looked round. "Why are you all looking at me like that? You don't judge Leona or Jemmy on their dubious sponsorship methods. Talking of Jemmy, where is she anyway? "Well, how am I gonna manage this?" Garos Hmiol sat in his quarters as he pondered the problem. Sponsors. Great. Jemmiah had not mentioned THAT. But then, she had been in a rush. Hmiol knew why. No one spoke to him, and he wasn't really much of a conversationalist, but he heard things. He knew most of what went on in the Temple. "Let's see here, I can bet Master Biwo will, and maybe Master Windu will sponsor me..." He knew that Master Windu and Jemmiah were always trying to get him to "have fun". He did have fun. Just not their kind of fun. Why was it so hard for them to accept that? "Who else?" he asked himself. He didn't go out much, but he took a walk when he was bored. Even then, he didn't talk to many people. This was going to take some thinking. Maybe now would be a good time for a stroll... The evening sky outside was aglow with thousands of ships. It was almost brighter than daylight. As Padawan Garos Hmiol walked along the upper walkways near the Jedi Temple, he considered his problem with much better spirits. How hard could it be? An hour later, his spirits were right back where they had been. The few people he knew had not been willing to sponsor a Jedi cantina-crawl. "HELP!!!" Where did that come from? "HELP!!!!!" Turning the corner, he saw the source of the screams. A small girl was being carried away quickly by a man with a blaster. "Shut UP, kid! We're too close to that Jedi place to be makin' noise. Another sound and I'll stun you again. Do you want that?" The girls screaming stopped, but tears still streamed from her eyes. Hmiol was not really one to take center stage, but there wasn't anyone else around. And something had to be done. "Stop!" Hmiol yelled weakly, igniting his seafoam blue-green lightsabre. "Oh, great. Now see what you did, brat!" The man turned and fired his blaster. Garos let himself go into the Force, deflecting the blasterbolts in a quick flurry of blue-green light. "Leave that kid alone!" he yelled, advancing. He sliced off the muzzle of the blaster with a sweep of his saber. "And I mean NOW!" The man looked at the ruined blaster in his hand, then to the girl, then to Garos' lightsabre. He turned and ran. Garos turned to the little girl, who had hidden behind a trashcan during the firefight. "Come out, it's ok now." He said in a gentle voice. She stepped from behind her hiding place slowly, looking at him distrustfully. He couldn't blame her. "What's your name?" "Le-Lelo Wuros." "WUROS?!?" He exclaimed. "Is your father Duron Wuros?" "Yes." She cocked her head to one side. "Can you take me home?" "Oh thank you so much for saving my little Lelo, young man!" said Duron Wuros, head of the Wuros Corporation. "It was nothing, sir." said Garos, his old habits slipping back into place now that he was speaking to someone old enough to fly a starship. "Nothing, indeed! You saved my little girls life! How could I ever repay you?" "Well, actually, I need someone to sponsor me for a cantina-crawl, and I was wondering..." When he returned to the Temple, he had the signatures of half of the employees of the Wuros Corporation on his sponsor sheet. ***** An-Paj shone the little torch in Jemmiahs’ eyes. "Well," he said dryly, "she’s alive." "We knew that already." Mumbled Simeon. "Did you? That’s something, I suppose. Did you also know that I gave express instructions regarding the transport of the equipment? That when I say that under no circumstance were the containers to be carried more than three at a time, I actually mean it?" "Sorry, sir." Simeon was contrite. "No. I should think you’re going to be sorry when I’ve dragged Master Jinn down here and explained that his former ward has been half-killed…by two apprentice healers! For Siths’ sake, we’re meant to get people better, not finish them off!" He frowned, running a weary hand through his white hair. "I’d make yourself scarce, if I were you. He’s on his way down, and I can’t imagine that either of you two are going to be in his good books when I tell him what actually happened." "An-Paj, it was my fault." Dimallie was distraught. "It WASN’T Simeons’ fault at all." The healer looked surprised. Simeon Cates, being chivalrous? Taking the blame for someone else? "We’ll discuss this later." He straightened up. "The wound’s cleaned up, the Bacta patches are on. She’ll have to stay in at least a day so that I can keep an eye on her. That was a real belter to the head." He glanced at the two of them. "Severe concussion, I’d say." "Is that all." Simeon sighed in relief. An-Paj stared. "I mean, I’m glad it wasn’t worse…" Simeon corrected quickly. "She certainly doesn’t have you to thank for that." An-Paj retorted. "Nasty thing, head trauma. A few inches further towards her temple and I’d say you would probably have killed her." Dimallie swallowed. An-Paj turned slightly, as he felt the familiar presence of Qui-Gon Jinn arrive in the ward. Sure enough, the tall figure appeared through the doors at the end of the elongated room. "Ah, there he is. The avenging angel himself. I’d start a retreat of some description, if I were you two." The pair of apprentices glanced at each other, then nearly fell over themselves trying to flee. An-Paj could not resist a smile. For a healer, he could enjoy watching some people suffer. Just a little. Jinn spotted him and stalked across the length of the room, hands swathed in his robe. The bluish-skinned healer met his stare. "Would you care to tell me what’s going on?" Frowned Qui-Gon. "I got a call saying that Jemmiah had been involved in some kind of accident, which considering she only left my apartment twenty minutes ago must be some kind of mistake." "No mistake." An-Paj replied airily. "What happened?" The Jedi queried. "A collision of sorts." "A collision?" Echoed Qui-Gon, letting the faintest amount of concern stray into his otherwise level tone. "That’s right. Of the heavy-metallic-striking-the-head variety. She was hit by a falling piece of equipment as she walked into the medical suite." "What was the equipment doing up in the air?" Qui-Gon couldn’t quite understand." "I think you’d better ask Dimallie and Simeon that." An-Paj grinned. "And how is Jemmiah?" "Sedated. Probably for the best, really. When she comes round she’s going to wish she hadn’t. Oh," An-Paj warned, she’s got a Bacta patch on the side of her head, so she probably looks worse than she should." They walked towards the bed she was lying in, with the privacy screen up. "After you." An-Paj gestured. "Thanks." Muttered Qui-Gon. He really hated these places. Jinn looked at the unconscious figure, and sat himself down in the chair by the bed. "How does she do it?" he tutted to himself. "This girl is a trouble magnet. She once told me she was changing her name to catastrophe because of the amount of strife she managed to find herself in." "Catastrophe Gleshan." An-Paj nodded. "That’s good." "What’s the extent of the damage." Qui-Gon asked wearily. "Oh, she’ll have the headache from hell itself when she comes to. Some nausea, I shouldn’t wonder. Dizziness. Typical side effects of…" "Concussion?" Qui-Gon supplied. "You want my job?" An-Paj asked. "It was a reasonable guess. And let’s face it, I’ve had a lot of practice at spotting these things over the last seven years." "Ah, yes." An-Paj smiled. "How is padawan Kenobi? In good health, I hope. We’ve not seen him since he came out in that rash four weeks ago." "The injections helped to calm it down." "It didn’t help to calm your apprentice down, did it?" Mused An-Paj. "You know, I almost swear you enjoy tormenting poor Obi-Wan." "I don’t have to. He does such a good job of that himself!" The healer smirked. "You can sit with her if you wish, but it might be a while before she’s completely with it. And I doubt if she’ll feel like talking when she does." He looked about. "Where is your padawan anyway?" Qui-Gon grimaced. "He’s not speaking to me. He stormed out after I had a bit of a disagreement with Jemmiah." "What was she doing coming here anyway?" An-Paj frowned. "Cantina-crawl. What else." Qui-Gon grumbled. "I’m glad Obi-Wan wasn’t there when that call came through. He can get a little bit over protective when it comes to this one." He nodded at the bed. "Must be love." An-Paj tried to wind Jinn up. It worked. "Really." "He’s twenty years old." Reminded An-Paj. "Lots of people get married before then." "Married!" Qui-Gon said the word as if it were something foul stuck to his tongue. "I think they’re a sweet couple." "She’s too young, and he’s…" "Your padawan?" An-Paj broke in. How did he know? Qui-Gon was amazed at An-Paj’s ability to read between the lines. It never failed to astound him. "They’re not children." An-Paj replied, his tone serious. "If you don’t start treating them like adults you are going to drive them away. From you." He walked towards the privacy screen. "And the advice is free, my friend. The role of a parent is to pick up the pieces when it all goes hideously wrong." "I don’t want it to go wrong in the first place." Qui-Gon said petulantly. "You’re not doing a very good job of it, so it seems." An-Paj said neutrally. Jinn shot him a look and the healer backed off with hands raised, laughing. "Fine, fine! Don’t listen to me. I’ll just stand by to pick up YOUR pieces. Or sew them back together again!" Qui-Gon snorted. "She’ll have to stay in for a day." "What about…" Qui-Gon started. "Nope. No way. Not one step out of here before the morning after next." "She’ll be disappointed." The Jedi said flatly. "She’s been the one organizing it." "She’ll just have to get over it. And I’m sure they’ll be plenty of casualties and walking wounded stopping off on the way home to tell her first hand what the evening was like." He raised an eyebrow. "That’s something I am REALLY looking forward to." As the healer left, Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel slightly sorry for her. Despite her dubious methods of money collecting, she had put in so much effort, and for a cause that was arguably not hers. Sitting in here with a sore head whilst her friends went out enjoying themselves was a harsh punishment indeed. Qui-Gon wondered briefly if Obi-Wan would back out of the event and spend his time visiting her instead. That was something Qui-Gon was not looking forward to. Telling Obi-Wan that his girlfriend was lying in a hospital bed. The healers were not really people he liked to socialize with on a professional basis. And he felt sure his padawan was going to blame him for the whole incident. He sighed, glancing at the still slumbering figure. "Tangles," he muttered irritably, "how do you manage to get me in so much trouble?" |
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| A Night to (almost) Remember |
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