Chapter Text
It’s a fine morning on Coruscant and Count Dooku has an appointment with the Dagobah Club at nine.
It should be fall, if the calendars have anything to say about it, but the trees outside show no sign of change yet. Their leaves rustle gently overhead; the breeze is light, if a bit cold, but he doesn’t mind it at all. The Count has a slight spring to his step as he walks down the alley. His two long boys are trotting ahead of him, sharing in on his infectious mood. Their light brown fur gleams healthily in the sun, a result of years of care and love he has invested into them.
"Roger, Roger—" he looks to each in turn "—behave."
He gives their leashes a little tug, to remind them they must be civilized, but the two borzoi keep pulling on ahead, curious about this and that bush. Dooku resigns himself to it and follows them instead of trying to further direct their trajectory. It's better that they are in a good mood—hopefully the Dagobah Club has something pleasant prepared for them.
All things considered, it's a very pleasant start of the day.
That is, until they meet him.
"Oh, mister! You look like you could use a chocolatey treat!"
The Count closes his eyes. He breathes in and out slowly and mentally prepares himself for the confrontation. Usually, strangers don’t accost him on the street so easily—his long, black coat does a great job of intimidating everybody on the street.
He turns to the person, ready to refuse.
"We have the best muffins in the area.”
"I'm…"
The young man is tall. He looks like he has a bit of muscle on him, and by the way he's advertising his muffins, it seems he's aware of his fortunate genes all too well. The logo on his green apron catches Dooku’s eye: a dark rock and a stream of water falling down from its top in a graceful arch. On the clouds of foam the water creates at the bottom lies written, simply, ‘Angel Falls.’
The name of the diner makes Dooku pause.
"... Mildly interested," he finishes, squinting at the employee with suspicion. There is a name tag tied to the man’s breast, saying ‘Anakin.’ "Is this place pet friendly?"
Roger and Roger are unfortunately not very bright dogs and need someone to keep an eye on them in public.
"Not quite, but our security guard will surely appreciate the company!" The young man smiles at the two dogs, but doesn't dare pet them.
Dooku gives him another once-over, as subtle as he can.
This must be Anakin Skywalker, then.
They walk further down the street toward the diner. It doesn’t take long for Angel Falls to come into view and Count Dooku realizes he’s passed by this area many times before. It's bracketed by two shops, one selling glassware, and the other lamps and other lighting devices. On both sides of the entrance to Angel Falls there are two large windows covered in minimalist doodles: vegetables, fruit, seafood and meat all decorate the glass in two rows, one at the top, the other lining the sill. Through the window, Dooku sees a couple of tables, mostly full, and the counter set up on the left side.
"We're raising money for a local charity," Anakin tells him. "All muffin proceedings will go to the Brightest Stars— perhaps you have heard of it?"
"Vaguely," Dooku says.
"It helps impoverished children access proper education."
The employee opens the door and yells the name 'Rex.' Moments later, a buff man donned in a dark blue uniform exits the diner. He glances at Dooku in passing, before giving Skywalker his undivided attention.
"Yes, sir?"
"Can you keep an eye on these two good boys while the gentleman peruses our wares?"
"Of course, sir."
Dooku reluctantly hands him the leashes and follows the employee into the diner.
One step inside is all that the Count needs to understand three very important facts:
> one, Angel Falls already feels like home with its warm lights and the tasty smell of freshly baked goods lingering in the air;
> two, the place is packed with patrons of all ages, lively without being overbearing, and has an atmosphere that could easily rival that of The Senate, which leads him to the final point—
> three, his good friend Sheev Palpatine has serious reasons to be concerned with the little diner after all.
Count Dooku eyes Anakin Skywalker critically. So the highly sought-after chef is quite laid-back and a tad ignorant, if he hasn’t realized who the Count is yet. What was he even doing on the street like that? Are they short-staffed?
As Dooku analyzes him, the man leads him to one of the few free tables. It's a small one, fit for two people at most, tucked away near the entrance to the bathrooms.
It's a terrible spot to place a food critic.
Count Dooku stops himself from sighing just in time.
This is the chef Palpatine wants?
"Today we have two special flavours available: dark chocolate with forest fruit and lavender spice mixed with white chocolate ganache. Which one would you like to try?"
"Both, if you will," Dooku responds after a moment's pause. He's not here on official business, after all. He can be a little self-indulgent. At best, he might even understand how big of a threat Angel Falls really is for Palpatine.
"Perfect! Coming right up, sir!"
A togruta teenager soon replaces Skywalker at his table. She sets down a little menu and smiles politely at him.
"If you would like a drink, please feel free to look through our menu."
"A glass of water," he says automatically. "Thank you."
That's how count Dooku ends up losing track of time at Angel Falls.
Why?
Because the moment he has the first bite of the forest fruit muffin, he is so enchanted by the balanced taste that, as he is eating it, he forgets where he is, what appointments he has, and even that he’s supposed to be scouting the place a little. The next pastry is somehow even more satisfying. His taste buds cry out in joy and ecstasy when the spice sauce mixes with the muffin base in his mouth. A tad fiery, tempered by the solid dough baked to perfection—count Dooku has not tasted such a happy blend even at The Senate.
He sees Anakin Skywalker move about the diner, bringing a plate of muffins to another table. There's a carefree smile on his face and it's easy to see why, after all.
Anybody would be excited to serve such goodies.
Count Dooku sighs heavily. It's going to be tough bringing this man on Palpatine's team, if the joy he radiates at working here is any sign. The composed sobriety of the Senate and its high society clientele don't really seem to be Skywalker’s scene, but who knows? Dooku has seen greater people fall prey to greed. It will be most entertaining to spectate his friend’s attempts at cornering this young man.
He catches the waitress' attention with his hand.
"I would like a box, to-go," he says. "Five and five."
She beams. "Certainly, sir! I will prepare it right away!"
He's about to change the lives of his Dagobah Club members. This seems exactly the sort of posh treat that Master Yoda would appreciate, with the added bonus that it comes from a small, local business.
"Count Dooku!"
He turns to the side, where a woman decked out in a chef jacket and a white chef hat is staring blankly at him. Her name tag reads ‘Padmé.’
This must be Manager Amidala, then.
"I apologize, I seem to have overlooked your appointment!" She is turning an alarming shade of red, but her voice doesn't waver as much as the blush betrays her.
"No need for apologies, Manager. I had none," Count Dooku offers, maintaining a casual note.
Her tense shoulders relax a fraction.
"It has been a most pleasant experience," he goes on.
"I'm… I'm glad to hear that."
The waitress chooses this moment to return with his extra order. She places the bag on the table, then hands him a little electronic device. One card swipe later, he is the proud possessor of ten heavenly muffins and he is impatient to reach the Dagobah Club and share them.
"Thank you," he tells them both. "Now you must excuse me, I have further engagements waiting for me."
"Thank you, sir!" says the waitress.
Manager Amidala is still shaken, but she remembers herself and walks him to the exit. She's short and slim, easy to overlook physically, but her presence is quite strong and confident. If she can put herself together in the face of a critic so quickly, then Count Dooku is almost afraid of what she would be like when she is already prepared for it.
"We look forward to your patronage, Count," she says.
He takes Roger and Roger back from the security guard and continues his walk toward the Dagobah Club. He has to quicken his pace now that he's spent all this time occupied eating muffins, but he finds he doesn't mind it all that much.
What's for certain is that The Senate should be watching its back.
Extra:
"Ani, did you bring that gentleman in?"
Seeing Anakin's confused expression, Padmé gestures with a hand far above her head.
"Tall, dark suit, far above our paycheck?"
"Ah, that gentleman! Yeah!" he grins, pleased with himself. "Ahsoka said he bought some extra. That's a lot of credits going to a local orphan near you!"
"Anakin!" Her voice takes on a scolding air, to which her right hand chef responds by cowering and giving her his best kicked puppy eyes. "That was Count Dooku! You know… the number one food critic of Coruscant?"
Finally, he seems to realize the scope of his act and his eyes widen.
Padmé sighs and shakes her head. "Yeah, exactly. You were very lucky this time."
"Lucky?" He laughs. "It ended quite well!”
“Be careful you don’t overestimate yourself,” she says.
“I trust my baking skills only because you taught me, Padmé. If anything, it shows how good a teacher you are."
She punches him lightly in the shoulder, flustered by the compliment. "You flatter me, but I'm billing you if all this stress gets to me."
Anakin shrugs very, very innocently.