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    Summary

    Stance gave a slight shrug as he answered, his brown skin flushing over his cheeks in a way that made his brown eyes seem to sparkle with that youthful exuberance just a little bit more. “More like he was just Knighted last week and had a really bad first mission,” he explained with a wry smile. “He’s taking it kind of hard and I thought he could use some cheering up. I’m pretty sure that you’d find him up to your standards?”

    It was almost painful not to burst into laughter at his suggestion.

    A Jedi Knight needed some cheering up after a bad mission, so Stance brought him to her: the Twi’lek bartender who had a reputation for destroying clones. Despite the urge to laugh at the kid’s twisted but sweet sentiment, she maintained a completely neutral tone as she stared at him with convincingly fake offense twisting her expression. “You do realize that asking me to fuck your friend because he’s sad is one step away from asking me to give him a hand job for fifty credits, right?”

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