Familiar Faces

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

It occurred to Rai'faani that she'd become afflicted with a terrible boredom. It couldn't be helped, really. Enough time in one place without scenery change could do that. She'd tried to wring every last ounce of novelty from Jovan Station, but it was all becoming very stale. The same Ti'a haa'ko restaurant. The same tea house. The same well-dressed playthings, and the same exact friends with too much free time on their hands.

"jI thjink jI'm about done wjith thjiss place." Rai drained the dregs of her cocktail as she sat along the edge of the heated pool.

Hirraaiya was mid-thrust in the pool with a decent-enough looking human. At least she was keeping the pace easy enough for conversation.

"jI hearr therre'ss a new njightclub openjing wjithjin the week. We could alwajyss check jit out."

"What'ss sso sspecjial about that?" Rai asked, pilfering a sajoi from a server's tray.

Hirraaiya rolled her shoulders in a shrug, steadying herself at the pool's edge with a hand. "jIt'ss ssomethjing new."

"Therre'ss a whole galaxjy of ssomethjing new, Hirra. And usualljy jit jissn't new at all."

Rai snapped the severed tail between her lips and tossed it aside. She sighed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. A whole galaxy out there. And her in here, going nowhere.

"Do jyou have anjy morre jeeta?"

Drugs weren't new either, but at least they opened the possibilities a bit. Hirra gestured to the locker room.

"Mjy handbag."

Rai stood from the pool, letting water drip down her long legs. She wrang the damp from her tail tuft.

"jI'm gojing forr a masssage."

"Don't be long, Rai, jI want to go eat ssoon."

She shrugged with indifference. Another night of paying top dollar to kill something exotic. Whatever.




* * *


In the privy of the tea house refresher, Rai lay out the ritual. Jeeta was just about a part of every day life. It was in tea - whether the literal or figurative sort. You could buy jeeta to smoke or to chew. There were jeeta candies. But the experience between those and the pulverized white sap of the jeeta plant were entirely different universes.

ssssssniffff

The euphoria and sensory load hit like electricity as Rai sighed against the mirror, her breath leaving a fog against it's cool surface. Cooler than the most perfect bath. She kneaded against its impossible smoothness. Everything felt a little new through jeeta. Sounds sounded clearer. Smells were more rich. Conversation picked up poetic meter. Obviously the sex was spectacular, but it was the portal that Jeeta represented, an entry into a world that was similar but a little different. That excited her.

Rai licked at her lips, feeling the buzz of pleasurable tactile passing between them and her tongue. She hastily cleaned the residue away from the counter, and made certain to do the same at the edge of her nose.

A moment later she was back in the world. The humidity of the tea house hugged her like a Neffon-wool robe. She smelled the salt and funk passing of a tray of fish. As she headed to the rear of the tea house, she paused before the bead curtain. A smile crept on Rai's face as she slowly passed through, feeling each and every bead and bauble pass over her naked body.

[Abarai Loki]

Halfway through his shift, rinsing the sweat and scented oils from his hands, Loki's mind started to wander. It wandered beyond the privacy of his ornate and fragranced massage parlour, beyond the epicurean delights of the teahouse, out into Jovan Station itself. The place where, these recent months, he had established for himself an unforeseen new life, amongst the travellers, and the traders, the spacers, the military man, and the common man. It was just a pit-stop, that's what he kept reminding himself; a stepping stone on the way to greater things. He divided his time between two jobs, and little else, providing his services as a droid mechanic for Anauri, and playing the unlikely role of part-time masseur in Madame Maillanaarro's teahouse.

Jovan Station was a crucible of cultures, a convergence point of people from every corner of the galaxy, of every faction and alignment, coming together out of necessity, but remaining for... something else. Loki didn't quite understand it all. He didn't care. For him, his time on Jovan Station was a numbers game. Presently, his dual incomes were divided between the expense of living on the station, and the small fortune it would cost to ferry him across the next leg of his journey, and, potentially, the next. He arrived by necessity, and, by necessity, he remained. Each day was the same. Perhaps, he was missing the larger picture. He left Ossus to be free to experience the galaxy for himself, and to find his place in it. And yet, in routine, he had made himself a prisoner.

It wasn't all bad, of course. Working for the teahouse was a luxury. It boasted the richness of experience he had come to associate with the likes of Taataani Meorrrei, which was not unexpected, he supposed, considering it was a Cizerack establishment that prided itself on debauchery and excess. Unlike his humble stall, tucked away in the main engineering subsection of the station, his work space in the teahouse was immaculate, comfortable, and tidy. The smell of jeeta-infused oils was obnoxious, to begin with, but, after an hour, it blended into the background, just like all the nudity, and the sex. The work, itself, was a particular high point. It turned out, that when it came to touching naked people, he was especially gifted. Man, woman, Herglic, or Bith - it didn't matter - he enjoyed them, all the same. Yes, there was the lurid appeal of nudity, but there was also the sense of accomplishment, too. His job was to seek out and eliminate the symptoms of stress or physical exertion - in the teahouse, it was typically the latter - and, in doing so, bring his clients a sense of relief. Even pleasure. There was an intimate kind of trust that developed between client and masseur, and, the client's satisfaction was his satisfaction. It was also the most sexually-frustrating job he'd ever had.

On cue, the bead curtain snaked and jingled, marking the arrival of a new client. A beauty, this one: young, with exotic markings, brazen in her nudity, shimmering from the kiss of steam.

"Ja irra korra'nai, rrou'a," he gave a courteous nod, and gestured to the table, "Welcome. Please, make yourself comfortable."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai paused the moment she'd passed through the threshold and blinked hard. Was that? It couldn't possibly.

She laughed. A tinkling sound that she reigned in too late with a hand to her lips.

"What arre jyou...moonljightjing? Kallum the massseurr?"

He looked a note more elfin in appearance than usual. Was that makeup? He wasn't so old that he had to hide his years, not by a long shot. Rai'faani took a few steps toward him, a hand on her hip as she appraised the her mother's majordomo and his newfound second life.

"That'ss an awful lot of efforrt forr vojyeurrjissm, don't jyou thjink?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I beg your pardon?"

The accusation fell upon Loki like a downpour of ice water. He blinked, owlish with shock and indignation.

So he derived pleasure from the sight of naked beauties, such as this presumptuous creature? That was as much a crime as salivating at a banquet. It was as natural as breathing. Who was she to question his intentions? He was reminded of his first encounter with another rare beauty, Mags Sondeeta, who had expressed a fleeting doubt regarding his suitability for the role of teahouse masseur. How he had proven her wrong. Perhaps his uncouth new client was in need of a similar education.

If the madame was present, she would disarm a customer of their objections with charm and humility. As such, the tension bled from his muscles and he donned professionalism like battle armour.

"Rrou'a, I assure you, this is a private chamber. My services, and my discretion, are at your disposal. Please..." This time, his gesture was slow and deliberate, to prevent any further confusion, "Make yourself comfortable."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Was this some manner of roleplaying? Rai's eyes narrowed on Kallum with a hint of amused suspicion. He'd been her mother's creature for so long that it escaped her comprehension that he was a man of his own tastes. Peculiar ones, given that he was stubbornly refusing to break character.

"But of courrsse." she replied, her patrician lilt more metered and deliberate than before. Perhaps it was the jeeta, but she felt more amusement than ill temper. After all, Kallum was still rendering her a service, even if it was in service of his kink.

She traced fingertips along the masseur's table before gliding top it to straddle the apparatus.

"jYou'rre qujite the mjimjic. Anotherr accent, ne? Fjirrsst Corrusscantji and now..."

Rai paused with a smirk. They were still maintaining the charade, weren't they.

"Of courrsse. Mjy apologjiess. That'ss an jinterresstjing accent. Wherre arre jyou frrom, mjy handssome massseurr?"

[Abarai Loki]

Great. Another weird one.

Loki supposed it made sense, in some ironic and inevitable kind of way. One does not get to look like that without accruing some drawbacks, over time. There was a blind portrait artist who festered in the depths of the promenade. He had a favourite expression, that Loki believed was applicable to his new client: too much paint on the brush, and none in the pot. Perhaps he was just being cynical. A scientist would look for a common cause, and there was jeeta. Yes, jeeta, the tide that washed many a senseless nude upon his needy shore. Part of him wished to explain away the bizarre with such a neat and convenient answer, but, he knew, in his heart, that there was truly no explaining the likes of Gantuhar. And it remained to be seen if this new contender was a true match for his unique brand of lunacy. Still, she was off to a promising start:

"My accent?" he said, stifling a sigh, "I'm from Torque."

He had been to Torque before. It was one of the few planets he'd visited, prior to locating the Wheel. They didn't speak like he did, and, in truth, it was not something he had ever given much thought. The people of Torque were all teeth, and spoke like they were chewing a mouthful of durasteel screws. Not that this oddball would know the difference. Hers was the sort of accent instantly recognisable to him: she came from wealth, and she probably didn't stop to notice it. That was everyone else's job.

And, on the subject of jobs, he busied himself with the prep work. A pea-sized dollop of oil was squeezed into his palm, and he proceeded to rub his hands together to make them warm and slick.

"And what of you, rrou'a," he said, dredging up his manners, "Are you a daughter of the mother world?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

His fiction was awfully obscure and specific.

"Ah. Torrque."

Rai plied her tongue around the name of a world she hadn't the wherewithal to know of or care. She was as indifferent to the reference as she might be to a mote of dust on a shawl. She leaned back slowly, propping on her elbows as her tail lazily flipped between her knees.

She'd expected backstory - something. But no, just the name of a silly world she'd never heard of. Goddess, Kallum's fictions were so vanilla. And that was damned confusing, considering his proximity to mother. She above anyone valued the artful bending of truth. She could turn a priestess of the Sun Goddess into a pazaak cheat given enough time.

Maybe she had him wrong? Maybe Kallum's value to mother was less for his guile and more for what rested between his legs. At least he had no shortage of company in that fraternity.

In lieu of fleshing out his backstory, Kallum put the sajoi into her dish instead. Unlike him, she had no trouble spinning a colorful - if not believable - lie upon demand.

"Of the motherr worrld bjy bjirrth," her ears perked, "but adopted bjy desstjinjy jinto the Jedji Orrderr."

Suitably ludicrous, but sold with attitude. Rai raised an eyebrow.

"Am jI jyourr fjirrsst Jedji, then?"

[Abarai Loki]

"What?" He said. It tumbled out, not as a question, but more like an unspoken statement of 'bantha shit.' If this ditsy kitten was a Jedi, then Loki was a dancing dewback.

"If you are going to fabricate an identity, you should at least make it believeable." His indignation had melted, in the wake of his client's absurd claim. There was no point in being angry about it. Besides, what right did he have to object to someone pretending to be something they were not? Escapism was a huge part of what the teahouse had to offer, perhaps the pretence was an extension of that.

A fresh pair of incense sticks were lit. With one finger extended, Loki silently instructed his client to turn over; they would start with the neck, back, and shoulders until she instructed otherwise. Before she moved, he offered her a smile of consolation.

"Very well, then. Please, tell me about your arduous life as a Jedi Knight."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Kallum's incredulity was worth a smile. Good enough to shake him up, but Kallum quickly returned to his bit role. Rai still played along, easing down to the table on her stomach. Obviously the Madame hadn't run him off the premises with a bayossa switch, so Kallum's recreational lie probably held a small amount of merit. More than a small amount, given mother's interest in him.

He'd asked her to elaborate, and Rai could tell by that way in which he chewed his cheek that he expected her to founder in her creativity with him calling the bluff. Rai took a moment to recollect, mining the stories that mother had told of her ridiculous experiences among that strange cult of monks.

"jIt'ss not the place of a Jedji to boasst. jI sspend mosst of mjy dajyss ljivjing ssjimpljy on Osssuss, jin ssolemn medjitatjion on the..."

Eyes unseen by Kallum, Rai afforded herself a sidelong glance to think of the right way of spinning this tale.

"...mjyssterrjiess of the Forrce. jI commune wjith trreess, the anjimalss of the woodss, and rrajisse sstoness wjith a thought."

[Abarai Loki]

"It sounds exhausting!"

Loki's emphasis was on the mark, straddling the tenuous point between sympathy and ridicule. His imagined disbelief was expelled in a huff. He was enjoying this, more than he cared to admit. And, what struck him about his client's imaginative remarks, was just how accurate a portrayal of Jedi life it was. Inwardly, he winced. It sounded so pretentious and silly, coming from the lips of a layman, like that. Was that what people truly thought of the Jedi? He supposed, in a way, they weren't wrong.

The oil, jeeta-infused, of course, was an exotic blend of Felucian jungle frond and pashie kernel oils; a fitting choice for his client's patrician sensibilities. Once it was warm, he started to apply it generously, in broad strokes, across the small of her back, and climbing towards her shoulders. Her skin was soft, and supple to his gentle touch; he enjoyed following the pattern of her bold stripes, as he worked. There was not a scar in sight. In no time at all, a new scent filled the air: the sharp jungle frond cut perfectly through sweet smell of pashie oil.

"And what is it they say to you? All the trees and the woodland creatures."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

She smelled the resin and the spice as it warmed on his hands. Already in the sensory throes of jeeta, it only served to turn the volume up at it's own presence. When Kallum laid his hands on her, she shared his warmth. Rai's breath deepened. She salivated, swallowing hard. Each ounce of pressure he kneaded into her, something wicked wished he'd double it.

"Thejy tell me ssecrretss kept between handssome men and Ssenatorrss. jIt'ss qujite funnjy, rrealljy. Naturre hass an honesstjy wherre men and women do not."

[Abarai Loki]

"Senators? That's... specific."

There was something in the way she said it that momentarily substituted his confusion for concern. Something knowing. Loki's rhythm faltered, and he decided to change things up, prematurely, graduating from the pinching and folding technique, to a deeper, more penetrating, circular motion with his knuckles. It would perhaps provide enough of a distraction for his client, while giving him time to think.

At first, her words were dismissed as more fanciful nonsense, but then, upon closer inspection, Loki thought he caught a glimmer of truth amongst the fiction. This eccentric, well-to-do Cizerack just happened to saunter into his workplace, making references to Jedi, senators, and handsome men. My handsome masseur. That was what she called him; it had not gone unnoticed. Was she making allusions to his storied association with Senator Meorrrei? Was this some fumbled attempt at a secret message, or, worse, a threat? He'd have to dig deeper:

"So... what kind of secrets are we talking about?" Here, he made a passing attempt at good humour that felt like having his spleen removed, "Or is that a violation of your Jedi Code?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

"Thejy wouldn't be much jin the wajy of ssecrretss jif jI djivulged them, would thejy?"

Her reply came unevenly as Kallum changed tact with his handwork. Ahh...she smiled. Had she touched a fresh nerve?

"jIt won't do, jI'm afrrajid. jYou'd have to beat jit out of me."

Unseen by him, Rai's eyes cut to the side with lascivious intent.

[Abarai Loki]

In the privacy of the parlour, it was not uncommon for clients to unburden their thoughts, worries, or desires on Loki's sympathetic ear. A full body massage had a way of untangling tongues, as well as knots. But this was, by far, one of the strangest conversations he'd ever had at his table. Part of him felt foolish for taking his client's words seriously, if only for a moment. Let her prattle on about her fantasy life on Ossus, and the talking trees, and the secrets of senators; Loki would just continue to be his usual charming and professional self.

"Fortunately, for you, I am untrained in the fine art of interrogation," he kept it light, while he worked on her shoulders and neck, "Besides, I expect Madame Maillanaarro would take issue with the screams."

He frowned. There was no stiffness, there were no knots, and not a hint of stress or discomfort from his client. It made him wonder if she had experienced a single day of honest work in her life.

"Are you experiencing any stiffness? Tension?" he asked, slipping into auto-pilot, "Is there any specific treatment you would like?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai smiled her secret grin at the interrogation talk, but that smile waned once Kallum returned to something a bit more procedural. He was like a mountain goat. You had to constantly keep pressure at the leash or the idiot would find the nearest cliff.

"Sstjiffnesss? Tenssjion? jI sshouldn't thjink sso."

What about you? Are you experiencing any? came the perverse inkling as she brushed her tail against his side.

"What to do, what to do..."

Rai drew herself up on the bench, propping with her elbows to get a look at the masseur's work station. A flickering gold array of lights on the counter caught her eye.

"Wax."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki took a step back, while his client considered her options, with the idle air of someone browsing a buffet. Blasted Cizeracks and their overly-familiar tails. He waited it out, eager to just do his thing, and send her on her-

"Wax?" he repeated the word like it was foreign to him. His thread-bare patience was rolled up, and his face creased with irritation, "What do you mean... wax?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai pivoted on a hip so that she could look back at him. Kallum's stubborn streak was fast losing its novelty.

"Hot wax. Frrom the candless."

The heiress head-nodded toward the array of flickering flames.

"Pourr jit on mjy back, of courrsse."

With that, she eased back onto the table, snugging her face back against the aperture at the head.

"jI ljike the feel of jit."

[Abarai Loki]

There was a beat of silence, then, "No."

There was a spot, in the corner of the room, about six inches from the ceiling, where moisture liked to gather, and run, turning the terracotta paint a disappointing shade of brown. Presently, Loki allowed that spot to hold his gaze, like an anchor, to keep him from being swept away on a tide of utter stupidity. It was his private place, to which he pinned every absurd request he'd ever received, like an invisible notice board of the strange and the downright horrifying. Burning with hot wax was, perhaps, not the most bizarre of demands inflicted upon him, but, with each eye-opening exchange, he had discovered himself slowly developing something of a callous to it all. In the past, he was shocked, embarrassed, aroused, even. But, now?

"You appear to be confusing Madame Maillanaarro's teahouse, for Madame Maillanaarro's torture chamber. And, as much as it pains me to inform you that we are not actually in the business of scalding our clients with hot liquids, here, I must decline your request."

Now he just deflected with charm, and a tactful measure of sass, to take the edge off. His tolerance levels for the more saccharine aspects of customer service were somewhat lacking, and he failed to see- His gaze flitted over to the flickering scented candles, and then back to his languid client, and something snapped inside.

"In fact, can you just piss off, please?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai slowly adjusted herself, drawing up to sit upright. The ear nearest Kallum perked, and her face took on an expression as if she hadn't quite heard. But she certainly did. She half-laughed, leaning towards the masseur.

"Pjisss off, jyou ssajy?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Yes." Loki gave a nod, quite matter-of-fact about it all, "It's another way of saying 'Get out, you annoying-"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Kallum didn't get the chance to end his sentence. Rai punctuated it herself.

SSWAT!

The slap was snakebite fast, and the heiress returned her hand to her lap with the surety of movement of a gunslinger. The only telltale that she'd been there were a pair of bloodless welted lines left behind by sheathed clawtips that barely grazed skin.

"jYou forrget jyourrsself, Kallum."

Gone was Rai's air of libertine flightiness, replaced by a dangerously cool demeanor and an even patrician voice.

"Sspeak to me jin that tone agajin and jI'll have motherr hearr of jit."

[Abarai Loki]

It wasn't the indignity of the slap that bothered him, nor the sting left behind in its wake, but the fact that he had just been robbed of what would've been a most satisfying insult. Behind firmly pressed lips, his teeth made a prison for his lashing tongue. His jaw clenched, while he waited for the glow to fade. Then, he took a breath, and met her frosty gaze. By the stars, she reminded him of Taataani.

"Mother?" He said, at last. Of the self-important posturing, it was the only word that caught his attention. A thought speared him, then, like an ice shard to the gut. "You are the madame's daughter?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

She recoiled from the insinuation, her eyes narrowing as a sneer of disdain crossed her lips.

"Don't be fooljissh, jyou know who jI am."

Whatever mood had been her fancy before, it had passed. Rai slid off the bench, flicking a speck of Kallum's epidermis off the tip of one of her nails.

"Sstop thjiss ssjilljy massseurr charrade, jit'ss long grrown sstale. Whateverr arre jyou dojing herre to begjin wjith, jif not ssatjissfjyjing ssome peculjiarr fetjissh?"

Rai paused, massaging an ear tuft between finger and thumb as she considered the peculiarities. Her eyes cut back to Kallum, and she eyed him with cold suspicion.

"Djid sshe ssend jyou to sspjy on me?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Who!?" Loki blurted, hands aloft in despair.

"What in the seven hells are you talking about? You have been making no sense, whatsoever, from the moment you arrived. Do I need to summon a doctor? Are you ill? I mean..."

He huffed a mirthless laugh, and cast his gaze around the room, as if the answer might by lying around, nearby. In resignation, he closed the final few inches between himself and his naked attacker, and addressed her in a firm undertone:

"Look, will you just tell me what it is you want from me, and then fuck off!"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai raised a hand to Kallum again, this time telegraphed and with claws out. She caught herself mid wind-up, slowly closing her fingers as she lowered her hand. The heiress shook her head, took a careful two steps away from her mother's minion.

"No, no..."

A tight little grin formed on her face and she shook her head again. Pacing, Rai only paused at the sight of one of the pool boys emerging from the adjacent curtain connecting the parlor to the bar. A sharp snap of her fingers caused his ears to flinch.

"jYou. Wjine."

"Asss jyou wjissh, rrou'a.", the younger Cizerack approached, letting Rai pilfer a flute of bubbly from the gilded tray. She sipped, staring guardedly at Kallum. That look suddenly turned unsure.

"jYou'rre sserrjiouss. How? How could jyou posssjibljy not know me? jYou'rre prractjicalljy wedded jinto the housse."

[Abarai Loki]

"In the interest of progress, I am going to ignore that last remark."

The roll of his eyes went unseen, as Loki rinsed his hands in a basin of warm water. When the threat of a second slap diminished, he put some distance - wisely, he thought - between himself and his erratic client. The last thing he needed was to be at the centre of another scandal of violence inside the teahouse. Ignorant, though he was, of the extent of Madame Maillanaarro's generosity towards strange charity cases, such as himself, he would rather leave it a mystery, and remain happy in his ignorance.

His hands were dried with a white towel, and he turned to regard the Cizerack, once more. The way she had snapped her fingers bothered him: done, without shame or irony, to beckon the manservant close. He supposed he should be used to it, by now. He folded his arms, and met her uncertainty with a much-needed measure of rationality.

"You seem to be confused. We have never before met. Of that, I am certain. So, I want you tell me who you are, and, more importantly, who you think I am."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

And through it all, Kallum went through the pedantry of a masseur's work. Rai'faani had no further inkling at what he was about than she'd had at the start, and that annoyed her.

"Of all the jidjiotjic...

She gulped her wine down by half, eager to be done with incredulity. Pivoting her flute away, Rai raised an eyebrow.

"Fjine then. An jintrroductjion." The sarcasm on the word was nearly a physical thing in the air.

"jI am Rai'faani Netaalli Taurrifar Meorrrei, daughterr of Barronesss Executorr and Ssenatorr Taataani, of the ssame housse."

It wasn't a matter of mimicry the way that Rai gave her name in patrician longform. Even in the nude, she was still a noble. Pushed into a corner, she'd demonstrate it if needed.

"And jyou? jYou musst be Kallum Rromanoch, mjy rrou'fai'ss majorrdomo - forr asss long asss jit majy pleasse herr, whjich majy not be forr much longerr."

There was a hint of ice in the heiress's demeanor, Rai raised an upturned palm to the human.

"Arren't jyou gojing to offerr me jyourr hand jin jintrroductjion?"

[Abarai Loki]

"No."

There was no explanation offered. Not even a glance of consideration towards the offensive hand. Loki knew well enough when he was being mocked, and he was nobody's fool, least of all, the fool of some jumped-up Meorrrei spawn. In the wake of this appalling behaviour, the shock of her identity was hammered home with all of the impotent force of a once-sharp nail against a plate of solid durasteel. More than anything, he was annoyed that it had taken them so long to arrive at this point, and there was still the mystery of mistaken identity to account for.

She spoke like Taataani, and carried herself in the manner of the matron's younger, more insolent clone, she even had the obnoxious finger snapping down to a fine art. And, as much as he wanted to deny the whole sorry affair, it was not at all difficult to believe - beyond the torturous element of coincidence. Still, many a time and oft, he had sparred with the mother; dealing with the daughter should prove little more than a trifle. Her accusation was swatted aside with a glance.

"I am not this man, Kallum. You are mistaken, and I am done repeating myself, to that effect. It is true that I have worked with your mother, before today. With. Never for."

Here, he held Rai'faani's gaze. The distinction was an important one. A moment of hesitation followed, while he weighed his options, and their potential consequences. His shoulders dropped, then. Better to pierce the fog of confusion with a sliver of truth, than attempt to bury it beneath a mountain of lies.

"Contrary to what my employment records might say, my name is Abarai Loki. And, unlike you, I am from Ossus. Originally, at least."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

The Meorrrei heiress lowered her hand the moment it was rebuked, glad to not carry the pointless charade any longer than need be. Of course, that was before Kallum denied being Kallum at all, but instead...

"Abarraji Lokji? The Jedji Knjight?"

Rai'faaani laughed, paused, downed the rest of her wine, and gestured to Loki with the empty flute.

"Rrjidjiculouss. Abssoluteljy rrjidjiculouss."

Her repudiation, however, didn't balance the equation. Why would he stick to this story if he could so easily be undone? No, this tapestry required some coaxing of a loose thread. Rai eased back onto the massage table, this time sitting rather than lying.

"What would be the pojint of all thjiss, werre that trrue? Expectjing to fjind a Ssjith Lorrd herre jin an orrgjy? Pleasse. Motherr mjight not confjide everrjy detajil to me, but jI know of Abarraji Lokji well enough, and jyou arren't hjim."

[Abarai Loki]

Coupled with the shock of having a reputation that preceded him, there was also an ugly flutter of pride, that Loki kept in check with no small measure of disgust. It occurred to him, then, that this was Taataani's doing, of course. For an icy moment, he considered what words were spoken of him outside of ear shot. His eyes narrowed an imperceptible fraction, as if he could pierce the innumerable star systems between himself and the notorious matron, and glimpse her mischief for himself. When his thoughts returned to the teahouse, he almost wilted at the misery of having to make right this tedious wrong with Taataani Jr. She had taken to dissecting his story, immediately. There was that shrewd Meorrrei intellect at work.

"My reasons for being here are my own," he managed, turning a shade of pink. Under the fresh scrutiny, Loki's gaze faltered. It wasn't that he was ashamed of working in the teahouse. There were worse jobs in the galaxy. No, it was not a question of his current position that unsettled him so, but his previous one. To hear his name and the words 'Jedi Knight' in the same sentence, it felt like being charged with a crime. Enough. He met Rai'faani's gaze, once more.

"But I assure you..." From a bowl, inside the alcove to his right, an apple floated, and drifted gracefully across the room into his hand. He then tossed the apple to his former client, for inspection.

"I am who I say I am."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

At the sight of the drifting apple, whatever witty retort Rai was conjuring on her barbed tongue died where it rested. Her blue eyes widened. She didn't realize that she'd dropped her empty wine flute until her ears jerked with the jarring sound of the break-resistant safety glass clinking off the heated tile floor. Thank the Goddess she had her wits back to her in time to catch the apple, or she'd have taken the piece of fruit in the face.

Bewildered hands turned the glossy red apple over and over. What was she looking for? An invisible wire? Some kind of tell in the trick? Because it had to be a trick. Rai flicked a skeptical-yet-unsure glance to...Abarai Loki yet again. Then to the apple. She reached to him, turning his hand up to inspect in hopes of finding some instrument of con artistry. When she could find no such thing, the heiress recoiled.

"That'ss jimposssjible."

There were things about the Jedi that Rai'faani could believe. They were skilled fighters with laser swords. They knew things about the mind and how people thought and could read someone as expertly as the shrewdest Baroness. All of those things were possible. Nonsense about levitating objects and the like were exactly that, nonsense.

[Abarai Loki]

"It's not," Loki laboured over the words, just to push them out, "You are impossible."

The apple was pulled out of her hand and clapped into his own. He took a bite. In part, it was a demonstration that it was indeed a real apple, but mostly it was because he was hungry, and if anything was going to keep him from throttling the life out of Taataani's daughter, it was food. The apple was cool in his mouth, and yielded sharp refreshing juices with every bite. Deciding it safe to abandon decorum, Loki took a seat in the alcove, and returned his attention to Rai'faani.

"I first met your mother on the Wheel," he gave her a look to discern if she had any idea what that meant, "That was the name of a secret convoy that ferried the few surviving Jedi and Force sensitives around the galaxy. Long before we settled on Ossus. Even then, I found Taataani Meorrrei a.... challenging woman. I see it runs in the family."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Clearly he wasn't Kallum Romanoch, because Kallum would certainly know better than to casually paint in such a broad stroke. Rai'faani's facial expression didn't change, but her ears slightly tilted back in annoyance.

"jIf jyou are attemptjing levjitjy bjy comparrjing me to mjy motherr, ssave the efforrt."

An insecure thought crossed her mind in that moment. Abarai Loki, the Jedi Knight, was actually capable of the things rumors said Jedi could do. At the very least, he could levitate objects with his mind. Could he do the other things as well? The very notion that someone was capable of reading a person's thoughts like they were slicing into computer files filled the heiress with a cold dread. Had the Jedi fed her that line because he knew what sort of resentments she carried?

"jI rrememberr motherr'ss ssabbatjical." She used the word pointedly, swinging her tail across her lap.

"Sshe drropped out of the galaxjy forr a few monthss asss jit werre, whjile jI wass jin unjiverrssjitjy. Ssomethjing about a sspjirrjitual jourrnejy wjith arr'uhai. Sshe djidnt prrovjide detajilss at the tjime. No one knew. Not jI, not mjy fatherrss, not herr bussjinesss parrtnerrss. We onljy got the detajilss afterr sshe had rreturrned. No doubt the ssecrrecjy wass to ssafeguarrd herr...new frrjiendss."

And here he was. Abarai Loki in the flesh. Mother's Jedi friend. Rai'faani didn't realize she had questions to ask until she did.

"The quesstjion jI wanted to know then, and sstjill want to know jiss whjy?"

[Abarai Loki]

"It was Cirrsseeto."

Loki gave the answer without hesitation. Such a simple answer for such a complicated question, but it felt right, in his heart. And he could tell his response had Rai'faani intrigued, so he elaborated, carefully.

"She knew he would never abandon the cause. It was, of course, in her best interests to keep her son safe and the best way to do that was to help those who fought alongside him. Fortunately, for Cirrsseeto, and the Alliance, Taataani Meorrrei is a woman whose influence is limited only by her imagination."

He considered what he was about to say next. Weighed that which he perceived as the truth against the risk of appearing sentimental. There was something about Rai'faani that stated, in no uncertain terms, that she was uninterested in hearing about her mother's better qualities. If he handled this well, she would be gone from his sight sooner rather than later.

"A cynic might consider her secret support a move to curry favour with those she expected to rise to power. Your mother is certainly shrewd enough for something like that - and when it comes to politicians, you can believe me when I tell you I'm about as cynical as they come - that said, I do believe there are more similarities between Taataani and her son than she realises. Your mother believes in the Alliance."

When he arrived at his conclusion, he resisted the urge to shrug it off like some petulant child. Instead, he tore his gaze from the half-eaten apple in his hand, and feigned interested in the younger Meorrrei long enough to ask, "Is your curiosity sated?"

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

"Conssjiderrjing all the damage motherr djid to arr'uhaai, jI underrsstand herr wantjing to make amendss."

Rai rolled her shoulders a bit in her bid at framing justifications.

"Of courrsse, that'ss worrked out loveljy forr all of uss. We ussed to merreljy be one of the mosst powerrful famjiljiess jin the clussterr, and now we'rre one of the mosst powerrful famjiljiess jin the galaxjy."

The way she said it implied the heiress was somewhere less than cheerful for the upgrade. She dispelled the doldrums however, focusing again on Loki.

"jI ssupposse jI alsso have jyou to thank jin parrt forr that. jYou've been herr prrotectorr morre than once."

[Abarai Loki]

"I performed my duty, nothing more. I can assure you it was not my intention to play any part in catapulting your family onto the galactic stage."

The dismissal came easily. Perhaps, too easily. Though she annoyed him, Rai'faani was still Taataani's daughter, Cirrsseeto's sister; if not respect, then, she would be afforded civility. The cold shoulder thawed, and fell in resignation. His frustrations were expelled with a sigh.

"Now that we have established I am not one of your mother's underlings, would you care to tell me what it is that brings someone such as yourself to this place? Not the tea house," he promptly rectified, "I need no illumination on that matter. Jovan Station. Do you like it here?"

Try as he may, Loki failed to bury the disbelief in his voice.

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

Rai'faani scoffed audibly as she switched her tail.

"jYou musst be mad. Thjiss sstatjion jiss an uncjivjiljized prrovjincjial backwaterr, wjith harrdljy anjy amenjitjiess at all. jIf the Empjirre jissn't thrreatenjing to blow jit up, then thosse peassantss frrom Fey'dann arre trrjyjing to kjill half the people herre. jIf therre werren't crredjitss to be made at one of the bussjiesst borrder porrtss jin the galaxjy, jI could fjind farr betterr placess to be. Jovan Sstatjion, forr all the trrouble, jiss wherre opporrtunjitjy ljiess."

The heiress flicked an ear.

"jI can't jimagjine jyou carre forr jit anjy morre than jI do. Whetherr jyou'rre worrkjing forr motherr orr at the behesst of the Jedji, jI don't carre. Sshe alwajyss ssajid jyou werre rratherr aussterre."

[Abarai Loki]

"Everyone is austere by your mother's standards," he said at once. It was a deflection, not that it mattered, he supposed: Rai'faani Meorrrei had about as much interest in his reason for being there as he did for hers.

"This place has its appeal," he began, considering first the four walls around them, and then, everything beyond, "No two days are the same, and you get the chance to meet many... interesting people."

Interesting was a flexible word, and diplomatic by choice, given his present company. Rai'faani Meorrrei was nothing if not interesting, and some of the other unspoken connotations that had Loki checking the time and counting to ten. The session had taken an unexpected turn and, here he was, once again outside of his comfort zone with another blasted Meorrrei.

"My reasons for being here are my own. As I've already explained to you, I have never worked for your mother. And who is this Kallum person?" he said, suddenly suspicious, then white from a ghastly thought, "You said he and I bear a resemblance. Tell me she is not claiming to have her own personal Jedi Knight on retainer."

[Rai'faani Meorrrei]

"No, nothjing ljike that." Rai dismissed with a head shake, "jIf anjythjing, motherr jiss uncharracterrjisstjicalljy djisscrrete about whateverr jit jiss that jyou do. Asss forr Kallum..."

She paused, taking a careful look at this unintentional impostor. She wasn't being sloppy with the mistaken identity. If Kallum were perhaps a decade younger, she'd be looking at him right now. The eyebrows were right. The nose was right. The lips were right. They even smelled the same. She shook her head again.

"Kallum Rromanoch, jif that'ss even hjiss rreal name. He was a grrjifterr and a con arrtjisst - frrom Narr Sshaddaa, though motherr crrosssed paths wjith hjim on Correlljia when he got the betterr of herr. Motherr found him out, and perrssuaded hjim jinto herr sserrvjice."

The heiress took a few paces, keeping her eyes on Loki from an askew angle, as if to test the Jedi's familiar likeness at an angle.

"He'ss been grroomed asss motherr'ss majorrdomo, forr handljing matterrss that sshe majy not wjissh to be attrrjibuted to herr djirrectljy."