It was an effective social lubricant at political events, at Republic soirees; accepting invitations and polite cocktails at diplomatic negotiations; blending into seedy back-alley bars when he and his apprentice were undercover.
But it turned out that political aides drank even more. After long endless hours at their offices being run ragged by their workloads, the young employees hit the bars afterward practically every evening. Kenobi and Skywalker had met them at the local bar and wound up gamely joining in, although reining themselves in just enough to not embarrass themselves. The Jedi knights were off-duty: they had a small sliver of time between missions, a little breathing room, where the war seemed far away for once. For one fleeting evening, they could embrace some normalcy.
Admittedly, a hangover was not befitting the Jedi (somewhere in the Force, Qui-Gon Jinn was perhaps looking down in bemused judgment)... but it had been a long year, and their monk-like order were not particularly known for their partying, so any opportunity to relax was rare and relished.
This morning, however, Obi-Wan splashes water on his face, readjusts his robes, combs his hair and beard, and overall tries to make sure he looks trim and presentable, despite what feels like Herglic rage-metal being played in the back of his skull.
He steps out into the morning sunshine, for a walk in the fresh air as he strolls down the gleaming Coruscanti avenues toward the gourmet coffee shop in the Senate district. It was expensive — everything in this district was overpriced — but considering his lack of material comforts, the ascetic nature of the rest of his life... well. A few expensive cups of coffee once in a while hopefully wouldn't betray his every principle.
Even with that hangover drumming at his temples and pulsing in time with his heartbeat, however, Obi-Wan is still on time, still waiting on a bench and kneading his brow when Padmé arrives. He glances up, and the corner of his mouth tugs into a half-smile at the sight of his old friend. ]
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i have measured out my life with coffee spoons.
It was an effective social lubricant at political events, at Republic soirees; accepting invitations and polite cocktails at diplomatic negotiations; blending into seedy back-alley bars when he and his apprentice were undercover.
But it turned out that political aides drank even more. After long endless hours at their offices being run ragged by their workloads, the young employees hit the bars afterward practically every evening. Kenobi and Skywalker had met them at the local bar and wound up gamely joining in, although reining themselves in just enough to not embarrass themselves. The Jedi knights were off-duty: they had a small sliver of time between missions, a little breathing room, where the war seemed far away for once. For one fleeting evening, they could embrace some normalcy.
Admittedly, a hangover was not befitting the Jedi (somewhere in the Force, Qui-Gon Jinn was perhaps looking down in bemused judgment)... but it had been a long year, and their monk-like order were not particularly known for their partying, so any opportunity to relax was rare and relished.
This morning, however, Obi-Wan splashes water on his face, readjusts his robes, combs his hair and beard, and overall tries to make sure he looks trim and presentable, despite what feels like Herglic rage-metal being played in the back of his skull.
He steps out into the morning sunshine, for a walk in the fresh air as he strolls down the gleaming Coruscanti avenues toward the gourmet coffee shop in the Senate district. It was expensive — everything in this district was overpriced — but considering his lack of material comforts, the ascetic nature of the rest of his life... well. A few expensive cups of coffee once in a while hopefully wouldn't betray his every principle.
Even with that hangover drumming at his temples and pulsing in time with his heartbeat, however, Obi-Wan is still on time, still waiting on a bench and kneading his brow when Padmé arrives. He glances up, and the corner of his mouth tugs into a half-smile at the sight of his old friend. ]
Good morning, Senator.
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