locomo | table for four

[Anakin cooks. This isn't to say that Obi-Wan can't, or that Cal can't- (he hasn't asked)(is there a nice way to ask that?)

It's just that he doesn't know if Cal can cook. And Obi-Wan thinks salt is spicy. Just because he will eat anything doesn't mean that he has to. So where does that leave them? This particular train car is full of locals that are a little... different from those of them just passing through but it's also full of vegetation that's thinning out and starting to droop. Their options are going to be slim no matter what, but he starts shucking beans and toasting corn and finds plenty in the way of herbs and spices.

As it does most days, the door to their strange home is left open and small sounds of life trickle out into the air. He doesn't know yet what the others are up to, but he isn't worried about it either. The process of cooking, as straight-forward as it is- is comforting. It gives him something to put the whole of his attention to, to accomplish. From the way things are shaping up in this village it might be only of the only small victories they get for awhile.]

[Having never been invited to a dinner in her life, Toko takes pains to appear decent. She's washed up, for one, and though her hair is still damp at the ends she's managed to dry most of it off. Her thoroughly torn school clothes have been surrendered for the mercy of the fashion app, which does not curse her so badly as she expected. It's workable. Not upper class, she's absorbed enough historical fiction to know peasant garb when she sees it, but then her hopes are never high to begin with. She'd look even stupider if she tried to be fancy.

The door is open when she arrives at what, frankly, looks a bit like a trapper's shack. She half expects to find meathooks and splayed squirrels inside, but when she peaks through the gap, all that she sees is Anakin's stately form, back turned to her as he works on something in a makeshift kitchen.

Toko ducks back a moment. Pulls out her phone and observes herself in the selfie camera, trying to tame her too-long bangs, sort the loose locks behind her shoulders. Repinning a few pins. There's not much to be done about her face, she's hopeless with makeup and there's none to be found here anyway (they'd probably be full of arsenic, people put all kinds of poisonous crap in their cosmetics back in the old days), but she supposes it'll have to do.

Heart pounding, she bites her lip and creeps in a step. With one hand she raps a shy knock-knock and clutches at the edge of the door. No, shouldn't she pose more boldly? Shit, she's already knocked, she can't do better than — just stand up straight at least?! WHY ARE YOU SO USELESS?!]

I, um...

...

H-Hello.

[WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE LINES YOU PREPARED, YOU HOPELESS WORM?! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!]

[ Anakin is cooking because Obi-Wan didn't bother trying to wrest the task away from him after very minor push back. The truth is, he hasn't forgotten how soothing Anakin finds the task. Like mechanics, cooking is straight forward. If there are other layers under Anakin's pleasure of having free access to food and sharing it with others, it's not something to be spoken about in polite conversation.

The angle of the doorway into the kitchen gives anyone a clear view of Anakin at the stovetop, but hides the wings off of it: one a sitting area with a table set for four, the other a cozy space with three beds angled against the walls, leaving an open area in the middle. Obi-Wan, crossing out from the dining room, smiles as he obliviously steps between her and the object of her attention. ]

Fukawa! Welcome. I'm afraid dinner isn't quite ready, since someone refused to accept any help, but make yourself comfortable.

[ There's nothing even close to biting in his tone as he throws the affectionate jab over his shoulder at Anakin, gesturing for Fukawa to come in and make herself at home. He doesn't try to guide her further, though, because he's heading to a cabinet to pull down mugs. ]

[The clothing he's been provided with here isn't all that different from things he's worn back home- in spirit anyway. The materials are similar, linens and leathers, and in the same dark hues he's always gravitated towards, and while Anakin knows he shouldn't look a gift bantha in the mouth, he can't help wondering about it either. They can communicate, have their own usernames, have houses provided to them, and so far it's been curated pretty close to their tastes.

He hasn't seen Cal or Beedee yet, but Obi-Wan has been hovering most of the night while doing his best impression of someone who isn't hovering. And coming in timidly through the door is Fukawa. Anakin feels her before he sees her, and unfortunately that leaves her at Obi-Wan's mercy. Among the smell of warm spices and wafts of steam, Anakin looks back over his shoulder to see her small figure there. The smile he offers is fond and genuine, if also a little cheeky. In his defence, he had a deceptively sassy teacher.] Fair warning Fukawa, he'll try to make you drink tea.

[Obi-Wan you interfering schmuck.

Toko has but a moment to admire the change in clothes — Anakin cuts a naturally dashing figure, so no wonder he looks perfectly at home in fairy tale garb. He's got a cape, and there's the deep v of his shirt— GAHALKA;SLK OLD MAN!!

She jumps when Obi-Wan pops out of nowhere, complete with a tight gasp that both men can hear. Her nerves are frazzled things on the best of days, don't do that!]

I—oh. Um.

[She was about to offer to help but then Obi-Wan has kiboshed that as well. So. She's supposed to make herself comfortable.

Toko looks around helplessly. Okay, if they're to have dinner, then she should take a seat at the table. But if he's saying be comfortable, then the only other seating option is the beds.

...............No no no, that can't possibly be an option. Toko ducks her head and scurries towards the table, catching Anakin's jibe just in time.]

Wh-what's wrong with tea? Is he bad at making it? [How can he speak so disparagingly of his Master? In front of guests no less. She looks to the older man as she takes a seat.] It's n-not a laxative, is it?

[They're grown men, they wouldn't pull a prank like that. Would they?]

Edited (forgot to add thirst) 2021-09-27 02:58 (UTC)

[ Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and barely restrains from shoving Anakin with his shoulder on the way by. He has a reputation to uphold, however, so instead he gives the impression of a strong nudge through their bond. ]

No, it is not a laxative. Stop making her nervous, Anakin, you're going to chase her off before you've even finished.

[ From an outside perspective it might actually sound like he's chiding Anakin for being improper, but this sort of bantering is a norm between them. Obi-Wan may have a penchant for lecturing his former Padawan, but as the years have gone on it has morphed mostly into exasperated fondness instead of true disciplinary intent. Then, to Fukawa: ]

Do you take sugar?

[There's no incoming shoulder knocking his own, or an elbow to the waist- but Obi-Wan nudges him all the same. Unfortunately the reprimand does little more than leave Anakin grinning smugly into their future dinner. He hears Fukawa's voice come again, this time as she moves through the space and picks out a chair of her own. Anakin, at least pretending to be appropriately chastised, doesn't interrupt again.

But he does catch her eye from behind Obi-Wan's back.
And he does throw her a wink.

It's true, cooking is relaxing for him in the way that all physical things are. It demands his attention but in a simple, straight-forward way- and it allows him to see the results of his labor. The major problems in this town are what they are, the sickness and the missing bodies and the monsters attacking. But this small, very basic act helps keep him grounded. He turns back to stirring the dish as tendrils of steam climb towards the ceiling.]

[It does come off as chiding, and perhaps her own age is reflection of that. Coupled with the idea of "Master" and...ah, well, Cal had said that romance was forbidden among the Jedi, so she'd misconstrued their relationship from the start. But Obi-Wan is clearly some sort of authority, perhaps as a teacher more than. Um. You know.

Wow that's a lot of useless thinking. She glances to Anakin just in time to catch his wink. Toko is taken aback a moment (that was for her?) but smiles in return, quick and secretive.]

Ah — no sugar. Just black. [Toko pauses.] Thanks.

[Being waited on was so strange.

Should she come up with conversation? She'd been mulling over what might be interesting on the way over. Nothing she knows of would compare to traversing across the galaxy, and whining more about the conditions of this train car would be beating a dead horse. Talking about herself was not going to happen, and she knows that Anakin doesn't want to talk much about his past. So.]

Um. Hey. N-No one's really told me...what the Jedi's purpose is. [Does that sound accusatory? Toko rushes in with the follow up.] Guh! That is, I mean, I've been told a little about the F-Force, and that you're Knights of sorts. B-but what's their creed? [She looks between the two, just a touch helpless. A lot abashed.] You know. It's l-like a religion, right?

[Please say yes.]

[ Blissfully ignorant to the exchange happening between Anakin and Fukawa, Obi-Wan busies himself pouring two mugs of tea. The other two cups will be for Anakin and Cal, but he knows better than to pour Anakin's cup early — his distraction will win out and it'll be cold by the time he really gets to enjoy it.

He's turning around and coming back to the table by the time Fukawa has finished her question. Obi-Wan sets the steaming cup of herbal tea in front of her; some blend he had picked up from the citizens here. He moves to the seat across from her, so he can still see Anakin moving in his periphery. Sitting casually with knees splayed, he leans on the table with both elbows and fingers laced around his mug. ]

The Jedi carry out the will of the Force and serve as guardians of peace and justice throughout the Galactic Republic. From a young age, children will come to the Temple to be raised and trained in the ways of the Jedi.

[ There's the briefest pause, as Obi-Wan's reality and subsequent grief whisper in his ear, before he recovers and goes on without a single break in his inflection or posture. ]

As instruments of the Force, we follow the Jedi Code to ground ourselves in a spiritual existence. We release ourselves of all attachments — personal, physical and emotional — so that we may focus on the concerns of the whole. Our duty is to the people and to the Force itself.

[All right, so she hasn't made some egregious faux pas. Toko takes the mug with both hands, waiting for it to cool as Obi-Wan speaks.

The pause isn't lost on her. Outwardly she remains still, but inwardly she thinks of Cal. He'd all but curled in on himself thinking of the purge, sitting on the grassy knolls of the Corgi car. It hadn't been so long ago for him, something less than ten years. She knows Anakin hasn't encountered it yet, and she's not sure where Obi-Wan lies on the spectrum. Perhaps he's also come out the other side of it, left to scurry about in secrecy. That would explain the sudden shift.

It's gone, just as swift as it comes. And now he's touching on another matter that reminds her of Cal. A more shameful memory. Toko's cheeks feel hot yet again. She wets her lips and hates herself for it, because now she remembers the feel of his too vividly.

Whatever! They agreed, it didn't count! It was an emergency. And besides which, she has a few contentions with the philosophy anyway. Toko has to bite the inner flesh of her lip when she almost spills the beans (Oh yeah, I totally found out about that part after kissing your friend!), rework her wording. Keep it innocuous.]

Th-that part, it's similar to some religious practices back home. But is it really necessary? [She looks to Obi-Wan, then to Anakin. They must have doubts. They're men in their prime, there's no way they wouldn't at least wonder.] Or possible? Life without a-any kind of love is a hellish existence.

[She would know. Not that she wants to get into those particular details, but to choose to live without affection? It's beyond her.

She has other questions of course. Technicalities. But this is the biggest sticking point, by far.]

[It isn't unusual to hear questions like these. While Jedi are familiar to those in the Core, that doesn't mean their practices and beliefs are fully understood. It's a pattern that gets larger the further out you go. On a speck of dust in the Outer Rim, Anakin had known Jedi as unbeatable heroes, champions from legends. The sound of their conversation washes over him as he moves around, occupying space with purpose as Fukawa starts following her questions through to completion. There's a vibration in the air, her anxiety he assumes, as she chooses her words; but now that he's busied himself again, Anakin isn't keeping a watchful eye and thus able to meet her own.

She's nervous and this is new. But Anakin believes that she's safe here, among his people, in this place, with Obi-Wan. A small snort of laughter leaves him as he cracks eggs into the pan. More like- safe even with Obi-Wan's idea of dinner conversation.

With his back to them and his world made hazy by steam, he can recall the way Padmé had once asked the same thing. For a moment his eyes close and he allows himself to know it, the way he'd felt then. The way he still feels now.]

We build our lives around compassion.

[His weight shifts, and when Anakin turns at last it's with the first of two bowls in hand- and a soft, helpless smile touching his mouth. Indulgent and unashamed, Anakin approaches their simple wooden table, placing each dish with a subtle thud.] Which I would define- [It's Fukawa he serves first, his gaze sliding easily to her face.] -as unconditional love.

[And then Obi-Wan, mindful of where the man has always liked to place his mug of tea, of which side he's always preferred to lean towards. The shape of Anakin's smile change, curls with familiar fondness.] The Jedi are encouraged to love.

It gives our existence meaning.

[ This isn't the first time he's heard this argument, but before Obi-Wan can open his mouth to make his counter point Anakin interjects. He lifts his gaze, turning to the sound of his former Padawan's voice and following him as he comes to the table with food.

And this — this is the man he knew. Not the horrible vision on a holorecorder, a black wraith of a person. Compassion, and love, caring for others. He remembers Anakin being small, their training only just begun, the way his heart swelled when he told him his mother always said The biggest problem in the universe is that nobody helps each other. For all their fears surrounding Anakin's training, for all his own doubt about his own ability as a teacher — that alone was how he knew Anakin would be a great Jedi.

He meets Anakin's eyes, warming under that fond smile and the sure conviction in his voice, and knows with clarity that there will always be light in him. Obi-Wan is struck with the intense urge to reach out and wrap him against his chest.

Instead, he looks over his bowl and his tea to Fukawa. ]

Love is not forbidden. Attachment, possessiveness — those are the things we are meant to avoid.

[ His eyes flick back to Anakin. ]

It does not mean we cannot love.

[Anakin slides the plate to her first, and Toko can't help ducking her head. It makes her nervous, being in their home, eating their food, sitting as their guest and not some begrudging tagalong that can't be shaken off. The food smells delicious though, especially considering what they had to work with in this landfill of a train car.]

S-so it's more like — [Like Buddhist monks, or the Christian kind. She's no expert on either, and she doubts they'd ever heard of stuff like that to begin with.] — just putting your t-time into community service?

[Not her best allegory. She clears her throat and tries again.]

Or putting your love into the whole world, or whatever.

[Then Obi-Wan adds his two cents. It's very clear at once that there is deep affection between these two. If she hadn't had her theory debunked already this moment would have been cemented proof they were an item.]

Oh, I d-don't know, being possessed doesn't sound so bad... [Her head is still bowed and she's covered her mouth with her hand, attempting modesty, but the private grin is probably obvious. She's happy to belong to Master Byakuya. It gives her purpose, a reason to live. When she gets back home, he's sure to greet her with a lover's tearful reunion.

She hopes he's not pining too much without her.]

I just. Well. There's a precedence for things going wrong if you c-cut off parts of yourself. Isn't stifling a natural desire dangerous?

[What should happen if one of them snaps one day?

What if she were

nearby?

...Again, she belongs to Master, but like. She'd be flattered! ~~And vulnerable.~~]

[With her belly full for the first time in ages, Toko finds herself in a much better humor than usual for the evening. For one, her sticking around and not scurrying off to the shadows is an incredible stretch of character.

Second, now that most of the plate-clearing and washing up is done (she'd tailed one man after the other, imploring to be put to work and was denied at every turn), she's found company in the one roommate she can't understand in the slightest.

Toko is crouched in front of BD-1, perched on her toes beneath the ruffles of her medieval skirts. She's bent forward, scrutinizing the droid with a knot between her brows. It beeps at her. She tilts her head.]

H-hey. [She calls to whoever's nearest.] He hasn't got um...there's n-not a bomb inside him. Is there?

table for four

kiss the cook etc etc

with PLEASURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

+1

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Jumps the Cue

toko exists outside the laws of man

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i'm sorry for her libido

After Dinner, open to multiple threads or multi-person threads