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“Are you sure about this, sir?” Colt held the bottle like a potential incendiary.
“Very sure.” Her eyes sparkled when she said it, so Colt had no choice but to take a long swallow before passing the bottle over to Bly as his eyes began to water.
Kark potential. Definitely an incendiary.
He knew Shaak got those bottles from Obi-Wan, and one of these days, he should tell her to stop. But at least he’d taken his without a sputter. Colt swatted Bly on the back as he struggled to breathe.
“Easy there, vod. Only burns like tibanna for a second”
He didn’t need to be a Jedi to see the “kark you” shining in the vod’s watery eyes.
“Can’t believe neither of you brought yours.” Cody set two identically folded pairs of greys on the meeting room table with his Marshal Commander glare. Bly passed the bottle over, maybe as an apology, maybe as a well-deserved punishment. Cody took a swallow from the bottle like it was potable water, and set it down next to the borrowed greys.
“Never had much occasion for them.” Colt’s greys had only ever been worn at funerals. He’d commended 99’s bravery in civvies and bandages.
Bly must have said something more cutting because he heard Cody laugh but Colt’s attention had drifted across the room with Shaak. She’d left him with his brothers as Cody returned, probably to allow them their time together. She crossed the large meeting room to stand with General Secura as Vos fussed over General Secura like a momma nexu.
“Why are we doing this?” Colt checked over the greys on the table. He didn't’ see much of the battlefield anymore, but that didn’t mean he was ready for the ballroom.
“To remind a few senators susceptible to influence that there are brave Jedi and their loyal troopers in need of their support in the war effort.” Cody took a long swallow from the dark, unmarked bottle before passing it over.
“Props.” Bly supplied. “We are props.”
Colt took another drink from the bottle because he knew it got better after the first few. “Oya.”
If his brothers got the help they needed, he’d put on someone else’s greys and be a prop at some boring Senate whatever. He passed the bottle on to Bly. He looked like he needed it more.
Three CCs sharing a bottle while the Jedi High Council left and reappeared in party clothes was apparently nothing out of the ordinary on Coruscant.
So be it. Colt could put on greys and smile when he was told to.
“Commander?” Shaak called over. “Your assistance?”
Colt left his brother and the pile of greys without a second glance. “Sir?”
“Your General must get ready,” General Secura explained like there was anything his Jedi wasn’t ready for. Like Colt could somehow help get her ready for this.
Shaak’s hands were folded into the sleeves of her robe the way she did when she was unsettled. Colt’s concern kicked up. He didn’t associate that gesture with anything good. The room full of important Jedi fell away in the face of an oncoming problem. He did regret handing Bly the bottle of whatever Kenobi had found.
“How can I help, sir?” Colt asked Shaak, shifting closer to her side, turning his body to shield her even if there wasn’t a threat in the room.
“There will be no pockets.” Aayla swung the pile of colorful, gauzy clothes over her arm as she gestured. “And no robes.” The Twi’lek plucked at Shaak’s wide sleeve. Colt didn’t need to be a Jedi to know Shaak would rather wear her robes.
Kark that . He didn’t know what people wore to parties, but Colt didn’t care. There was no good reason to make her uncomfortable. Shaak could wear whatever she wanted. She’d still be the most luminous being in any room.
And judging by the warmth in his Jedi’s eyes, and the wicked grin on General Secura’s face, he’d definitely thought that too loudly.
Colt cleared his throat. “Sir.”
Shaak’s lekku were flushed and maybe Colt didn’t feel too bad about projecting. “If you do not mind?”
She slipped off her robe and Colt reached out to take it from her. Instead, Shaak draped it over the back of one of the meeting table’s chairs.
And handed him her lightsaber.
Colt had been a soldier from the day he was decanted. He knew what eyes on him felt like, and he’d wager every pair in the room were fixed on them.
“Since I cannot wear it, would you carry this for the evening?”
“Of course, sir.” Colt’s voice was too low, too gruff. His ‘sir’ sounded just a little too close to the endearment it was. He crossed his arms, lightsaber folded firmly against his chest.
General Secura gave a long-suffering sigh. “Now, we can go dress?”
“Aayla,” Shaak scolded, but it sounded playful, young in a way he’d rarely heard before.
Colt had seen her spend her time with other Jedi, he’d never seen her visiting with another female other than Nala Se. He thought of the times he’d hear her giggling on a holocall with General Unduli. Different people brought out different sides of a person, just like it was with him and his brothers. Colt bit back a smile as Secura led Shaak away, colorful fabrics fluttering behind them.
He turned to the rest of the room to see everyone still staring. His brothers had matching knowing looks, and they could both go kark off.
The Jedi though. That was to be gauged. Measured.
Kenobi was knowing, but amused. Not an issue, Colt knew, because Cody’s General would never be that much of a hypocrite.
Colt had never met the Nautolan, but he looked far too entertained by the goings on to worry about.
That was not true for every Jedi. General Windu looked alarmingly close to saying something about it. Colt shifted his stance, square and solid.
If the High Council Jedi had something to say about one of his Jedi trusting her Commander with her lightsaber, he could come out and say it.
The grin on Quinlan karking Vos’ face was almost as scary as 6’s.
“Suit up, vod.” Cody slapped down the greys on the meeting table, breaking the tension of the moment. “Bly’s already dressed.”
Yes, into greys, to go to a party with Senators, to try to help his brothers win the war.
Colt checked the collar of the greys. “I know he’s your vod’ika… but Rex’s?”
Sure, Colt wasn’t the biggest guy around, but Rex was a small arms gunner.
Cody set the bottle next to the greys. “If they don’t fit, we’ll try to find another set. The Guard said they’d send a few pairs over, but only Fox’s made it.”
It was on Colt’s lips to say he’d take Fox’s pair. He was about the same size as his brother. They might be a bit loose in the top, but that was better than too tight.
“These aren’t bad,” Bly said appreciatively, moving his arms in borrowed grey. The greys Colt knew had to be Fox’s. Bly would never fit into Rex’s smaller set.
Colt sighed and took one more long swallow from the bottle. There was something just a little sharp and herbal in it and the taste was growing on him.
Resigned, he picked up the greys and went to change.
*
“Can you breathe?”
Colt glared at Bly’s mock concern, and shifted into a perfect parade rest because kark his brothers, he could still be professional about this. Someone had to be.
Cody was at Kenobi’s side, discussing something in low voices. But the vod slanted him one knowing look at resumed his conversation.
All the Jedi were dressed up, even if Vos still wasn’t wearing sleeves.
Rex’s greys fit Colt, but only just. The fabric was stretched across his shoulders, and just on the edge of clingy down his sides. The pants weren’t as bad other than the seat of them.
Bly peered around him to double check the fit. “You’re certainly giving those senators a good look at the quality of the conditioning regimen.”
“Another word, di’kut,” Colt threatened but Bly’s gaze went past Colt and turned dreamy, so Colt knew anything else he’d say wouldn’t be getting through. Colt turned as the last two Jedi rejoined the group.
“Ah, worth the wait.” Vos sounded far too pleased, crossing the room to offer Aayla and Shaak his arms.
“Vod.” Bly nudged him and Colt gave a jerky nod in response.
Words were asking too much at the moment.
Shaak was wearing something that was almost like her usual robe and tunic but different. Different was something with lots of extra material that still looked like a disadvantage in a fight, but instead of warm robes in the usual earthtones, it was cloth so light it was almost see-through, a rich shade of dark gold.
All the fabric draped around her, a low vee down her chest, hanging from her shoulders into sleeves that seems to float around her more than cover her. There was a flush on her restless lekku and a smile he’d never guess meant she was nervous if he hadn’t spent so long studying her every microexpression.
“Sir.” Colt spoke before he’d fully considered it, and Shaak paused, stopping Vos and Secura with her. “You… excuse me, sir.”
He pulled her robe from where she’d hung it on the chair, and held it out for her to slip on. “It’s gotten chilly out there, sir.”
“We agreed no robes,” General Secura argued. “The plan requires charming war heroes. They are tired of listening to dull, thoughtful Jedi.” Secura pouted, “And she looks so pretty.”
Pretty did not begin to cover it. Colt smoothed the shoulders of the robe in place, trying to soothe her with the brush of his fingers.
“I will leave it in the speeder, Aayla,” Shaak promised. “I will not ruin your efforts.”
Instead of returning to Vos’ side, Shaak turned back to Colt. One graceful fingertip tapped the side of his jacket. “I see you have found a safe place for it.”
Her lightsaber. Which was in a pocket in the jacket. A pocket that was nearly the perfect size to carry a lightsaber. Colt would ask Rex about that some time.
“Yes, sir.” Colt tried to force himself to sound more composed than he was.
“Very good, thank you.” Shaak’s smile was genuine now, at him, for him. Colt couldn’t have cared if the whole Jedi order was watching. “Shall we?”
“Yes, sir.” He held out his elbow like he’d seen Vos do. If that was how it was done, he could walk her to the speeder just as well.
Shaak rested her hand on the starchy grey fabric of his borrowed uniform and walked out to the waiting speeder.
