Ep V: Chapter 13

Enthea doesn’t need the **** to know that Scora is enjoying this teasing or that she’s doing it on purpose. It doesn’t feel meanspirited, although there’s a hint of entitlement in it that might be a little unseemly. Scora’s also engaged to be married, although different individuals and different species have different takes on monogamy, so her flirting isn’t necessarily grounds for judgment.

And Jedi are not supposed to judge in any case. Neither are they supposed to be bribed, but there are limits to everything. Scora keeps pushing and Enthea sees no advantage in watching her eat rather than eating with her.

They’re in the Resort’s finest restaurant, at a table slightly apart from all the others. Visitors routinely approach them; Scora is a celebrity, after all. They all look at Enthea with curiosity, but respect for Scora keeps them from saying anything rude about a little Dathomirian in humble, brown robes.

The food is exquisite, but it’s hard to enjoy it when Scora won’t shut up.

“So, if there was a handsome butler or a cute maid in an antiquated uniform waiting for you when you got back to your room…” Scora says.

“There won’t be,” Enthea replies with a smile, sipping water.

“But if there was.”

Enthea sighs deeply.

“If there was?” she asks patiently.

“Butler or maid?” Scora burns with curiosity.

It takes everything Enthea has not to roll her eyes. Jedi do not roll their eyes. Anakin does, but he doesn’t count. Maybe someday, if Obi-Wan ever bothers to come back from his little getaway with Satine Kryze.

“No difference,” Enthea replies serenely.

Scora gazes across the table, then turns to look at the diners. She squints at Enthea.

“Maid, then.”

Jedi aren’t really unstoppable. Neither are they completely unreadable. Not that Enthea made it particularly difficult when she joined Scora in admiring that Twi’lek earlier.

“Fine,” Enthea concedes. “But there won’t be anyone waiting in my room. It would be unwelcome, which would be poor service. And I’d be sure to tell everyone at the Jedi Temple not to ever visit a Scora Waldas resort.”

Scora laughs, signaling for a second helping of dumplings.

“Ah, yes. Jedi. My primary market.” She wipes a tear away, then sobers, eyes alight. “But if there was.”

Enthea breaks the rule and rolls her eyes.

“Maybe I should just let assassins kill you,” she mutters.

“Not before you answer my question. And I don’t see any assassins. I’m very popular.”

“I don’t think you’re meant to see them,” Enthea notes.

“Is that how it works?” Scora asks with a smirk. “But in seriousness, Master Jedi. I apologize. I know that I shouldn’t tease. I have a lot of money. I guess I don’t have the manners to match it.”

“It’s all right,” Enthea replies, lifting her water glass. “No harm done.”

“We have blue milk, you know.”

Enthea waits expectantly. Scora leans on the table, still wearing that hungry look. “Are you a milk drinker, Master Jedi?”

Enthea groans. “You just said you would stop!”

Scora cackles delightedly.