Recipe For Trouble: Half a cup of grouchyness, pinch of boredom,dash of rain and stir

[Emma Harvan]

The world was ending. At least to little Emma Harvan it was. The weather was fitting—dark and gray and cold and raining. The smile usually found on the child’s face was a scowl today and instead of skipping she tromped everywhere, trying to make as much noise as possible. She was bored and tired of sitting. She hadn’t had a good sleep and on top of it, or perhaps because of it, had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. It was a gloomy grouchiness because she was cold and wet from trying to play outside.

“Stupid rain. Y’re jes’ a big stupid head!”

She yelled at a window from inside the B&G. A passing waitress smiled sympathetically.

“It’s not nice when it rains, is it?”

Emma shook her head

“Would you like to colour hon?”

Emma narrowed her eyes to mere slits and crossed her arms over her chest.

“No.”

She growled. The waitress smiled thinly.

"Are you sure?”

“No, no, no, no, NO!”

Emma stood up on her chair and stomped her feet. A few people turned to stare. The waitress nodded and walked away but returned a few minutes later with a Styrofoam cup of crayons and a piece of paper.

“Just in case Curly Sue.”

Emma glared at her retreating back, grumbling to herself.

“M’ name is Emma, not C’rly Sue.”

Slumping down in her seat the little girl wallowed in her self pity for a few minutes before taking a green crayon out of the cup, careful that the waitress wasn’t watching. Deciding that the colour just wasn’t dark enough, Emma tossed the green onto the floor and pulled a black crayon out. But she didn’t draw on the paper, no that was too boring. Instead the child lay down on the floor and began using it as a palet. She drew big, ugly scribbles, satisfied by the sense of accomplishment it brought.

“Stupid rain... stupid floor... stupid me...”

[Dasquian Belargic]

“That’s a very good picture you’re drawing.”

A smooth melodic voice spoke from up above the small girl, where there stood a tall man in unusual attire who was – at that time – apparently admiring the art work that Emma was producing. He stood with an air of humility and a sincere smile on his face.

“It looks a little like the trees outside,” Dasquian added as he bent down to take a close look, crouching beside the small girl.

“Is that what it’s meant to be?”

[Emma Harvan]

"No."

Emma had been startled by the man but quickly gathered herself back into the folds of her misery. She scowled at Dasquian and continued to mark the floor with the crayon, using her whole arm to add force. The once sharp tip was now dull and flat, nearing the paper wrapper. Emma stared hard at the floor, casting glares at Dasquian every few seconds.

snap!

The crayon broke in two, making Emma jump. The little girl growled and threw the ends of it along the floor, watching them skitter about until they rolled to a stop. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Everythin' is stupid! I hate everythin'!"

Emma stamped her foot as best she could from her position and looked at Dasquian grumpily, wet curls plastered to her forehead.

"Wha'?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian sighed a little. He was beginning to remember how difficult children could be to deal with.

“Would you like me to get you some new crayons?”

Knowing his might not be enough, he then added.

“Or something else to play with?”

[Emma Harvan]

Emma looked at Dasquian carefully, as if considering it. For a moment things looked brighter but alas, it was not to be. Her scowl returned and her chin jutted out defiantly.

"I dun't want t' play and I dun't want t' color! I'm never goin' t' ever again!"

The angry look melted away quite suddenly and the tiny child sighed shakily. She looked at her drawing on the floorboards and felt worse than ever, though it was a great novelty to have drawn on forbidden territory. Remembering that there was an audience, Emma tried to look mean bit it was a half-hearted attempt.

"I jes' want t' go ootside."

She looked at Dasquian hopefully.

"Can y' make the rain go 'way?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

From his crouched position Dasquian looked away at the windows of the bar and grill. Through the shutters all that could be seen was a great smudge of grey, with water rattling against the window panes every few seconds. It would have been a great way to cheer the little girl up to make the storm cease; however Dasquian knew he had no such power.

“I’m not sure I can, no… but perhaps if you wish for it hard enough, it will come true.”

[Emma Harvan]

"Tha's not true! I wishded f'r a new house f'r m' Mama and Da and I wishded really hard and it never camed true!"


She stood up, which really made little difference in her height, and climbed back into her seat, biting her tongue in determination as she crawled into the high perch. Grabbing the cup of crayons she slid down again, in half the time it had taken her to get up. Emma set the cup on the ground and glared at the stranger crouched next to her before kicking it. Much to her surprise, the wax sticks scattered everywhere, a blue one even flying into the air and thwacking an elderly looking Rodian in the face. The little girls eyes were as wide as saucers and her mouth hung open. She put a hand to her cheek and just stared. She hadn't expected
that to happen... it was... spectacular! A small grin spread across her face and she covered her mouth with a hand. Giggles escaped, despite her trying to stop them. Perhaps not having Mama and Da around had it's advantages.

"Hmm-hmmm... Did y' see tha'?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

A loud squawk came from the Rodian, who jerked up to his feet instantly and searched the room for the person who’d beaned him in the face – the little girl with the crayons scattered around her seemed a good choice. A string of curses rolled off of his lips and as he headed towards the child, fist raised. A frown came over Dasquian, who stood up immediately upon seeing this. He couldn’t understand how such a violent man had been let into the bar, and served drinks, but then Sith came in regularly, so it was no surprise really.

“Calm down, sir. It was an accident, I can assure you,” the Jedi Knight stated loudly.

Know even the most inebriated of men could understand that raising a hand to a Jedi was a bad idea, and so the confrontation ended before it had even begun with the Rodian sulking off to the bar. With a sigh, Dasquian turned to Emma and smirked.

“Ought to be careful... I’ve heard Rodian’s are partial to Little-girl soup.”

[Emma Harvan]

"...Liar."

But Emma's voice was uncertain. She looked past the Jedi at the Rodian who was being consloled by a glass of something or other, and wondered whether he would really make her into soup. She wasn't about to ask him. Putting her hands on her hips, Emma looked waaaaay up at Dasquian. From her low viewpoint he seemed to be a pair of legs with a head perched on top, but that was how all grownups looked.

"I'm going ootside, and I dun't care if it's rainin'!"

She marched past him determidly and past the gaurds at the door, ignoring their smiles. Her first problem arose with the door. On a clear day she was able to push it open with a little difficulty, enough at least to squeeze through. But with the elements working against her, she couldn't budge it. Emma strained against the door, growling and turning red in the face with effort.

"Unnnnn.... Stupid...."

When it was evident that the door wasn't going to yield to her efforts , the child stood back and kicked it.

"Fine! I'm jes' going t' get a chopper thing and break y'!"

[Dasquian Belargic]

The door swung open a moment later, allowing a curtain of rain to splattered against the bar floor, bringing with it a damp chilly wind. Dasquian looked down at Emma from above.

“Are you sure you want to go outside?”

[Emma Harvan]

She looked up with a frown.

"Yes!"

Emma stood there for a moment, looking miserable. It was freezing outside but there was no choice now but to go out. Like a soldier marching to her death, Emma stepped out... And was promptly knocked over by a gust of wind. The girl landed uncerimoniously in a puddle, drenched from the few seconds of standing in the downpour. She spluttered and sat up, trying in vain to wipe water from her face. Covering her eyes with her hands, she stood up and tried to walk down the street. With her eyes covered however, Emma could not see where she was going and walked into Dasquian's legs, falling down again. Curiously, she looked up, squinting as the rain pelted her face.

"Why are y' followin' me!?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Shaking his head to himself, Dasquian sighed and spoke out loudly over the sound of the storm.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll just go back to the lovely warm bar then… get myself a mug of hot coco with a few marshmallows.”

The Jedi made a sort of mmm noise, over-exaggerating it so that Emma would hear. This done, he began to walk off, humming a tune to himself with accompanying words that sounded like ‘… raindrops keep falling on my head’.

[Emma Harvan]

As stubborn as she was, and as much as she hated to admit defeat, Emma knew when she was beaten. Just the mention of hot cocoa made her mouth water... And it was cold. Waiting until the Jedi's back was turned, Emma darted after him, before the door could close.

Little rivulets of water flowed down her face and her curls were plastered to her head. It took only a second for Emma to spot Dasquian and slowly creep behind. She was sure that he had not seen her, and positive that he still couldn't. A trail of water marking her path, Emma stopped and waited until Dasquian had sat down before stomping over to him.


"I 'cided t' wait 'till the rain goes 'way."

She gave him a harsh look, clearly meaning not to doubt her reason.

"I'm all wet now!"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Before Emma had even returned Dasquian had asked for a towel from the bartender. When the small girl approached, he couldn’t help but grin at her appearance; she was totally drenched and looked quite the sight.

“Here,” he handed the towel to her and smiled. Just as he spoke, a tray with two steaming mugs arrived at the table, and the delicious aroma of chocolate wafted into the air. The Jedi lifted his cup and took a sip, almost scalding his tongue.

“Hot… just a moment and I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he added, offering the second mug to Emma.

[Emma Harvan]

Surprised that the man carried a towel with him (where else could it have come from?), the child accepted it with a look of bewilderment. She clumsily rubbed it over her head and down her dress, unexperienced with the art of using one on her own. Once satisfied, Emma wrapped it around herself and struggled into the seat oppostite Dasquian, taking the mug in both hands. IT was too large and heavy for her to hold and so Emma placed it on the table in front of her, blowing into the drink with great enthusiasm.

Beginning to cheer up, she eyed the Jedi once more, this time with a look less menacing.

"I'm Emma. Y're hair is reeeeally long! M' Mama made me cut mine."

She frowned. She hated her hair short. But perhaps one day it would be as long as this man's!

"I never seen a boy wi' long hair afore!"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Well Emma, neither have I. You know, sometimes people think I’m a girl,” Dasquian said, his voice full of enthusiasm and slightly forced shock, one hand tugging on a long strand of hair.

He shook his head down at her, rolling his eyes. It was around children that one found themselves over-acting every gesture, and making each movement seem very grand and theatrical.

A sip of his cocoa, and he added as though he had forgotten, “My name is Dasquian, by the way. But most people just call me Das.”

[Emma Harvan]

"Why dun't y' jes' cut y're hair Misser Das?"

Emma was warming up to conversation, her drink forgotten. She scooted forward in her seat and leaned closer, attentive. To the child who saw the outside world as her backyard, anything other than her normal routine was fascinating.

"Did y're mama say y' can't cut it or d' y' like it long?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“A little of both. My … mama did like it like this, and so do I. It makes me look different,”

Dasquian felt his cheeks going a little pink. He felt a bit embarrassed, bordering on stupid, talking about himself that way.

“Just like the pointy ears and clothes do,” he then added, hopefully.

[Emma Harvan]

"Oh! How come y're ears are pointy? Did they get squished?"

Emma was practically sprawled out on the table, face resting inquisitively in her hands. She waited, eyes expectant, for Dasquian to answer. This was a fascinating conversation and the child was oblivious to his growing discomfort.

"D' y' hide y're ears behind y're hair 'cause y' got y're ears hurted and y' dun't wan' anyone t' find out?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“They aren’t squashed no; they’ve always been like this,”

The curiosity of a child was at once both entertaining and sometimes a little unnerving. Dasquian smiled.

“It’s because I’m not a normal human… my people come from a galaxy far, far away from here,” he added with a wink.

[Emma Harvan]

"Oh, like m' Mama and Da! They comed from a place ten times ten times ten 'way."

She smiled, pleased that she could contribute such a weighty comment to the conversation. Her elbows were getting sore from leaning on the hard table surface and so, with no reservations whatsoever, Emma clambered over and into Dasquian's lap, curiously reaching up and tugging a strand of hair lightly. She grinned.

"Misser Das, how comed y' live here now? D' the bad mans want t' hurt y' too?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

It was unusual to have a child in his lap, but it got him thinking. Thinking forward to when Valanya would be born, and back to when he had been married originally and had a son and daughter. It brought a smile to his face.

“I live here because this is my home... and I sort of work here too. I look after people, and make sure that bad things don’t happen to them.”

The explanation was very simple, but it was essentially what the Jedi aimed to do.

[Emma Harvan]

"Y' make sure bad thin's dun't happen?"

Emma sat up very straight and grew very serious. She brushed the damp hair from her forehead and looked at the Jedi with a sad face and huge eyes. Placing a hand on either of his cheeks to make sure he was listening, Emma lowered her voice to a loud whisper.

"Misser Das... Y' got t' help m' Mama and m' Da wi' the fighting. I sawed the man and m' Mama says that y' should use y're words but now she isn't and they're gon' fight wi' m' Da's bad friend."

She pouted and wrinkled her brow together in frustration.

"I sayed that y' should use y're words to m' Mama and she sayed tha' sometimes y' jes' can't! Tha's not bein' nice is it Misser Das?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Concern flitted over Dasquian’s expression. He had wondered where this girls parents were, and now it was apparent that they were involved in some sort of conflict. Worrying.

“Who are your mother and father fighting with, Emma? … Do you know why they’re fighting?”

[Emma Harvan]

Her manner was all business as she nodded.

"M' Da got the bad mans... thing, an' he wants it back. But m' Da dun't wan' t' give it t' him so they're gon' fight."

Emma looked a bit miffed.

"Mama sayed that I canna help so I had t' come here an' lpay. But it's been a long time Misser Das. They were's in the paper even!"