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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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"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.)

"That might be a good idea."

After another sip. "If you've got the coveralls, maybe I'll visit the refresher."

"I do have them," Kanan says, swinging his satchel around so he can get at it. It takes a second to dig through some of the smaller purchases he made at the market, but after a moment he has a compact bundle of cloth in his hands that he turns over to Hera.

"I'll keep our spot warm?"

"Sounds good."

She takes the bundle, and rises from the barstool, clapping his shoulder as she goes. "I'll be right back."

Edited 2019-06-07 01:48 (UTC)

"I'll be right here," Kanan says, actually settling down on the barstool -- with his back to the bar, of course -- to watch the room. There's no one really suspicious besides the usual shady spacers and worn-looking locals, so he probably doesn't have to be that much on his guard.

Except, you know, he's not a fool.

(And Hera definitely just came out of a lot of trouble. So.)