for_everyone | (no subject)

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The ship does land in one piece. As she'd suspected from the moment she saw it, the stolen ship is a rare Imperial shuttle made for stealth. She leans easily into these controls, quietly whipping through space, even after it became apparent that the patrolling TIEs had been ordered to find the ship's escaped prisoners. Hera had dodged among them, evading their scopes and radars, as she flew the shuttle far out enough to make the jump to hyperspace. In the end, it was only one unfortunate fighter that managed to catch sight of her.

The shuttle's weapons systems are nothing special, she learned. But they did the job.

The jump to Batuu was only about three hours, even with the slightly roundabout route Hera decided to take. The girls, fortunately, seem to be accustomed to space travel. Occasionally they whisper to each other, but otherwise, they tend to stay quiet unless Hera speaks to them. About an hour in, Hera recommends that they get some sleep, and the girls don't object.

It's midafternoon at Black Spire when they reach the planet. Hera is careful on her approach, avoiding likely lanes of traffic – she doesn't want to run into questions about the stolen shuttle she's flying. But then, most who visit Batuu aren't the type to ask questions. But she still chooses to land the shuttle in a clearing, surrounded by dense forest, about five kliks downriver of the outpost.

As the shuttle touches down, she turns to the girls. "Are you all right?"

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He tries not to give in, but water --

Kanan at least manages not to grab for the bottle, so that's like a victory?

"Yes, please," he says, more fervently than maybe he wants to.

And --

"Thanks."

"You don't have to try everything I have," she points out, handing him the bottle. "I don't eat every weird thing humans do."

Discretion being the better part of valor, Kanan takes a sip of the water, swishes it around his mouth, and tries to subtly spit it back into his initial drinking glass. Then he actually takes a real drink, swallowing heavily.

"Yeah," he says wryly, after that. "I know you don't, and there's a lot of stuff that's weird there. But . . . people don't really expect me to, so I kind of . . . want to."

He scrubs his hand through her hair, momentarily almost grateful for the mask that hides the bulk of his face from her, despite knowing that she'll read him anyway. They know each other so well by now.

"And, uh. I just want to know what the things you enjoy taste like."

So. Yeah. Weird or not, he's gonna try it.

Hera listens, and after a few seconds, she rests her head on his shoulder.

"You could always order one for yourself."

The bartender would mix it for humans, if he was the one asking. "But if I'm flying us out of here, I shouldn't have anything else."

"I mean, I could," Kanan says, leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

"And if you really need me to, I guess I could finish yours. Or I could spot you a meiloorun juice? I think I saw that on the menu."

He wants to get her out of here, sure. But he also kind of . . . wants to give her something nice before they get back to the efforts of escape and . . . everything.

And they can take the juice to go.

"I don't need your help with mine," she says.

"But a meiloorun juice before we head out might be good."

"I'd say I'll go get it, but -- "

Kanan raises one hand for the bartender, calling them over so he can place the order.

"This way I don't have to go anywhere."

The meiloorun juice is returned in pretty short order, not least because it's not a very complicated drink, but the small flat dish full of a gelatinous green substance, little popping balls, and a drizzle of colored candy rocks is a definite surprise.

(Apparently the bartender found their display of affection cute. Kanan can't see their expression to tell, but Hera probably can.)

Edited 2019-06-03 01:16 (UTC)

"Looks like we got a gift with it."

Hera tentatively pulls the flat dish closer, her eyebrows raised as she examines the blue-green gelatin and colorful candy flakes. "Want me to try it first?"

"If you think it might hit me like a punch to the face," Kanan says, after a moment of thought, "yes, please."

He reaches out unerringly to poke the side of the dish and set the gelatin to wobbling.

"At least this one I don't think I can spill?"

"I think it's a dessert."

It smells sweet and fruity to her. "So it might be more to your taste."

He purses his lips, very exaggeratedly thinking it over.

"I guess I can fall on that vibroblade, huh? If you insist."

Kanan reaches out to take up the dish, then pauses.

"So -- is there a spoon?"

Hera glances back down at the bar, and slides aside a napkin to find a very long, slender spoon, with a very small bowl perched at the very tip of the handle.

"Good luck" she says, placing the spoon in his hand.

"That sentiment just fills me with confidence," Kanan says, but digs into the dish anyway.

It takes a bit of effort to actually balance the gelatin on the small bowl, but after three tries he manages.

"Hah!"

Now comes the part where he has to get it into his mouth.

Uh.

"I think you'll manage, dear."

At least, that's all the help she's offering for now.

He doesn't spill any! Nothing about the first meeting of spoon and mouth is graceful, but now he's got the pattern down.

And it's . . . it's really surprisingly refreshing.

"It's good," Kanan says, his tone carrying that surprise with it.

"And it's not terribly sweet, though it might overpower the fruit taste for you. Which . . . doesn't leave a lot else for the palate, but -- "

You know. If she wants to try some.

Edited 2019-06-03 01:49 (UTC)

There is a second spoon on the counter, but Hera lets Kanan carve a little more out of the dish before she joins him.

It's still sweeter than she'd like, but there's also some sourness, and she likes the texture of the gelatin and crunchy flakes.

"It is nice," she agrees. Still, she only dips her spoon in occasionally, so that Kanan can have the bulk of it.

Edited 2019-06-03 01:55 (UTC)

Kanan's mouth curves at one corner, because he totally recognizes her tactic to make him actually enjoy a treat. But he keeps eating anyway, because it's really good.

Then he sets the dish back on the bartop, laying his spoon on top, perfectly balanced.

Maybe that'll make the cleanup easier.

"I bet some fancy restaurant somewhere has a palate-cleanser like that."

"Then I'm glad you got the chance now."

She doesn't see any fancy restaurants for them in the foreseeable future. Their days of infiltrating Imperial parties ended a while ago.

"Just remember to leave a good tip."

"As long as I'm not starving," Kanan says in a wry tone, remembering earlier days, "I'm not about to stiff a cantina worker."

He takes this moment to set down a couple credits, then a couple more, frowning as he does a mental count.

There should be two more, and it takes him a second to pull those out of his pocket.

"I might have some mending to do when we get back. Uh. But I don't think I lost any."

Credits, that is.

"I have some if you need it," she says, reaching down for her own bag again.

"I had to do some haggling earlier."

Kanan winces a little, because that part of the story probably doesn't originate from anything good.

But --

"No, you keep that. I've got enough. I just . . . put it in a couple pockets and, uh. Some of my credits fell into the lining of my pants."

Awkward.

"But that should cover it," he finishes, putting another credit chip on the bar top. "With some to spare for a good tip."

"If you're sure."

Hera's planning a proper debrief either way, but she'd rather wait until they're in a less crowded place.

She finishes what's left of the Bloody Rancor, and then reaches for the juice. "So, how far is our ride out?"

"I'm sure," Kanan answers, rocking back on his heels and taking a breath.

"And, uh. It's maybe not as far away as you'd pick? But, uh. It's a quick speeder ride south. Or an hour long walk, depending."

"Depending on whether we have a speeder."

Which, Hera doesn't have one on her at the moment. She drinks a little more of the juice, and does another survey of the bar.

"We could . . . try to borrow one," Kanan offers awkwardly.

"Or call for a pick-up. Chop's missed you."

Sabine, too.

(And everybody, really.)