Chapter Text
Obi-Wan sighed as the volume from Han’s room suddenly spiked, the chorus of Una Duey Dee clear enough to Obi-Wan in the kitchen (even though Han’s room was upstairs and two rooms over) that he could easily hum along. And he would have, and had in the past (Kra Mer 5 being Han’s favorite band this month meant that Obi-Wan had heard the song played probably a hundred times by now). But he was distracted by the sound of voices coming from the front door.
“Han, turn that down!” Aven called.
“Doubt he can hear you over that,” Rex said, as the two made their way into the kitchen.
“Welcome back,” Obi-Wan said, smiling at his sons.
Aven held out the bag from the shop a few blocks down. “One order of gi sauce, as requested,” he said.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, taking the bag and pulling out the bottle. “It’s not quite the same as Padme’s recipe, but gi sauce probably tastes similar to doo sauce, right?”
Rex nodded encouragingly.
The volume from upstairs rose even higher, and all three in the kitchen winced.
“Alright, let me go talk to the dj,” Aven said, exasperated, and he left the kitchen. They almost immediately heard him greet someone at the door, before his footsteps headed up the stairs.
“Hey, we’re here!” Cody said, followed closely by Din.
“Din!” Obi-Wan said, smiling broadly. His grandson (grandson!) rushed over and hugged him, as Obi-Wan set down the gi sauce before returning the embrace.
“No welcome for me?” Cody teased.
“Stars above, it’s my long-lost brother Cody!” Rex exclaimed dramatically. He turned to Din and Obi-Wan, and with great exaggeration, said “he’s the Mand’alor, you know.” He then stepped over and wrapped Cody up in a huge bear-hug, even lifting him off his feet by an inch or two. “I never thought I’d see you again,” he continued, voice muffled since his face was pressed into Cody’s shoulder.
“Alright, alright - Rex put me down!” Cody exclaimed. “Di’kut,” he muttered once he’d been set free. The music from Han's room cut off.
“I’m gonna go say hi to Han!” Din said, and dashed out of the room, then pounding up the stairs.
“Where’s Jaster?” Obi-Wan asked Cody. “I thought you were coming over together.”
“We did,” Cody said. “We pulled up at the same time Seventeen and Jinn did, he’s talking to them outside.”
“Can’t believe we need Jinn to force Seventeen to come to family dinners,” Rex said, rolling his eyes.
“I for one am just grateful,” Obi-Wan said, opening up the gi sauce bottle and giving it a sniff, and grimacing a bit. Yep, smelled like fermented fish sauce all right. Deciding to trust the process, he measured out a few spoonfuls to add to the sticky sauce to go with the kaadu ribs. They heard the front door open again.
“Ka’ra that smells good,” Three-Five said, walking into the room.
“What happened to Ba’buir?” Cody asked him.
Three-Five shrugged. “He’s out front talking to Jinn.”
“Did Seventeen already make a run for it?” Rex asked.
Three-Five snorted. “He might have tried, but when I got here he was wrestling with Maze and Nate.”
Cody rolled his eyes. “I’ll go break them up,” he said, and left the kitchen.
“The least they could do is wait until after dinner,” Obi-Wan muttered.
The timer he’d set on his datapad dinged, signaling that it was time to pull the ribs out of the oven.
“Rex, dear, can you go find Jango and Boba? They’re out walking by the field.” Obi-Wan had put Boba in charge of making sure Jango got his steps in today. The older Mandalorian had been crabby all day - as he often was on physical therapy days - and Obi-Wan thought Boba’s company would help him get through his evening walk without working himself up into a terrible mood just in time for family dinner.
While the farmhouse was still home to Jango, Obi-Wan, Rex, Aven, Han, and Three-Five, it was much quieter than it had been in its heyday. Cody and Din had moved to Jaster’s compound when Cody became Mand’alor, deciding that it made more sense to live closer to the center of Keldabe for convenience. Nate had gotten his own apartment near the spaceport a couple years ago. Boba still lived here, but he was out on jobs so often that they only saw him for a few days a month. They’d gotten used to Seventeen being based in Coruscant, so while they’d seen him much more in the last few months than they had in the several years before that, he was still off on missions with Qui-Gon more often than not. And now that Maze was moving out, Obi-Wan felt more strongly than ever the urge to make the most of their monthly family dinners.
The tradition had started a few years ago, after the Hutt War. With everyone’s new responsibilities, they never quite went back to the way the family had functioned before the war. But after years of only seeing one or two of each other at a time while they were on short leaves, they’d all come to really value any time when the full family was together. So, even though the kids were growing up and getting jobs, and Jango was busy as Mand’alor, and Obi-Wan was busy with everything else, they’d carved out a rule - first Primeday of the month, everyone gathered for a family dinner. No exceptions unless you were off planet.
And now, nearly three years later, they were still doing it. Din and Han had been folded into the family pretty seamlessly. Cody was Mand’alor now, instead of Jango, but the tradition held. First Primeday of the month, no exceptions unless you were off planet.
“Hey, that smells great!” Maze said, stepping into the kitchen. “Can I help?” Obi-Wan smiled, and handed him the bowl of sticky sauce to pour over the ribs.
“Anyway, I think the beings of Tomo-Reth will be able to get things back on track now that the dictator’s been removed,” Qui-Gon Jinn said, passing the bowl of blue cabbage down to Three-Five, “but I am sorry it took longer than I’d anticipated. I know Seventeen wanted to be here for the Post-Kamino Ade celebration.” Seventeen rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything, taking another bite of ribs. For all that the Jedi didn't have families of their own (Jinn's insistence that the entire order was one big family aside), the Jedi master was determined to see Seventeen maintain close ties to his own family. He'd been that way for years, but now that they were temporarily based on Manda'yaim it was far more obvious than when they'd been based on Coruscant. Seventeen was convinced that Jinn just thought it was funny.
Last week had marked ten years since the clones were brought to Manda’yaim from Kamino. The planet had erupted in festivals and celebrations to mark the occasion. (Un)luckily for Seventeen, they'd been on yet another diplomatic-turned-violent-who-could-have-predicted-that mission on Tomo-Reth, and missed it.
“It was so cool!” Han said. There was a solid two or three inches of sticky sauce smeared around his mouth. “They had a parade, and games, and a ton of food.”
“Anh uhn ah bir ooka’ike conpes” Din said around a massive mouthful of rib meat.
“I’m sorry, a what?” Jinn asked, lost.
Din heroically swallowed, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. Further down the table, Obi-Wan twitched.
“A ba’buir look-a-like contest,” he repeated.
“Everyone dressed up as their grandparents?” The Jedi asked, still confused.
“No,” Jango said, sighing. “They all dressed up as me.”
“It was a Jango Fett look-a-like contest,” Aven explained, smirking.
“Oh, but you’re all…” Jinn looked around the table, filled mostly with clones of Jango Fett. “…ah.”
“Yep,” Jango said, very drily.
“Oh, this one’s very nice!” Fox said into the mic. He checked his datapad. “This is Zak from Clan Carid, wearing classic Kamino-era Jango Fett armor. Does it have -“ He paused, while Zak made a slow spin up on the stage. “- yes, folks, he even made sure to fit in the correct Z-6 jetpack, instead of the more recent JT-12 jetpack he’s used since the Vheh’goten, well done.” Zak finished his loop of the stage, then moved off to join the other contestants. “That’s going to be a hard one to beat, folks.”
"This is ridiculous," Jango muttered under his breath.
"Don't be a spoil-sport," Obi-Wan disagreed, applauding along with the rest of the crowd. Jango sighed, and leaned slightly into his riduur. Luckily looking too enthusiastic would have been out of character, so all he really needed to do was sit there and try to appear dignified.
"I still think you should have entered the competition yourself," Jaster said from his other side.
"Buir, why. Just... why. Why would I enter my own look-a-like contest?" Jango demanded.
"That would have been so cool, ba'buir!" Din exclaimed from the row in front of them. "Imagine if you had won!" Han tried (and failed) to hide his snickering in his hand.
“Who’s next…" Fox was saying from up on stage. "Ah! Here we have Remo, he flew in with Clan Sornell for the celebration. He’s chosen to dress up as current-day Jango Fett.” Fox leaned forward a bit, bringing the mic closer to his mouth. “Note the hint of grey he’s painted into his hair around the temples.” His eyes found Jango’s at the back of the crowd. Maintaining eye contact, he continued, “because he’s starting to go grey a bit, haven’t you all noticed?”
Jango growled, as Aven joined Han's snickering.
“It was awesome,” Nate agreed, taking a drink to rinse down his ribs.
“Yeah, karking hilarious,” Jango grumbled.
"I'm actually almost sorry I missed that," Seventeen had to admit.
“It wasn't as awesome as the parade, though,” Three-Five insisted.
“This seems like a bad idea,” Boba said, looking up at Din doubtfully. The Explorcorps float was just leaving, their humming fleet of miniature drone-ships still hovering in formations that changed to the beat of the music playing from the main float.
“It’s fine, he’s really light!” Din insisted, arms up to hold Grogu securely on his shoulders. The little green jetii'ka had found them in the crowd. Somehow. Nobody was sure how he kept doing that, but if Din was out and about in Keldabe, there was a decent chance Grogu was also there. Cody had finally just put his creche master on speed-dial so he could report Grogu's location.
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Boba admitted. He turned to Cody. “This seems like a bad idea.”
“Why? This is the only way he’s tall enough to see the parade,” Cody said, arms up to hold Din securely on his shoulders.
Boba just looked up the tower standing next to him - Cody holding Din, holding Grogu, then scanned them back down. He looked back at the parade, where the Agricorps float was coming by, throwing flowers out to the crowd. “Just seems like a bad idea,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.
“Worry-wort,” Cody said to Boba.
“You do not get to call me a worry-wort,” Boba snarked back. “You were stacking baby Jedi two Mando’ade up, it was crazy.”
“We didn’t fall, though,” Din pointed out.
“It was probably the kid holding you up with his Force osik,” Boba grumbled, poking at the blue cabbage slaw on his plate.
“Was that before or after Bacara broke your nose?” Maze asked Cody, who glared in response. Seventeen raised an eyebrow. He and Jinn had ended up on a joint mission with Bacara and a few other Protectors last year, and the serious clone had grown into all the promise he'd shown on Kamino.
“Before,” Boba answered.
“Cody - Mand’alor.” The call caught Cody and Boba’s attention, and they both turned around. Up on Cody’s shoulders, Din exclaimed a bit, tightening his grip on Din to keep them both balanced.
“Bacara,” Cody greeted. He hadn’t seen Bacara in a few years, but he hadn’t changed his armor much, so it was easy to recognize him.
“I’m here to challenge you, Mand’alor,” the clone said, no-nonsense.
“He’s already fought a half dozen times today,” Boba complained. “Can you at least wait until after the parade?”
"You just don't want them to fight because you chose a half dozen fights in the betting pool for today," Din pointed out. He was right, but Boba wasn't going to admit to anything.
Cody just tapped Din in warning, before carefully crouching down so his son could slide off his shoulders. “It’s fine,” he said, stretching his neck out as he stood up. “Where do you want to-“
Eyes closed, straightening his neck out of the stretch, Boba’s shout wasn’t enough warning to save him from the punch to the face.
“Is that allowed?” Jinn asked, a bit surprised.
“It might not be the polite thing,” Jaster admitted. He handed his empty plate to Aven, whose turn it was to do dishes this month. “But to challenge the Mand’alor is to prove that you are worthy of the title instead. To take advantage of any weakness - barring truly dishonorable acts, of course - is fair.”
Jinn, Maze, and Jango were soon deep in conversation about the intricacies of Mandalorian rules of fair combat. Seventeen turned to Cody. “How many challenges did you face that day, altogether?” he asked.
“Rounded it off at an even dozen by the end of the day,” Cody said, shrugging.
From across the table, Obi-Wan frowned, concerned. “It’s not really getting better, is it?”
Jango had faced challenges during his two years as Mand’alor, sure. Mostly members of clans who had been somewhat reluctant to bow to Jaster decades prior, or those who still thought of Jango as dar’manda for his actions on Kamino. But what Cody was facing was quite different. Cody was a clone. Nearly any time he went out in public, he faced challenges from fellow clones, who saw one of their own become Mand’alor, and felt emboldened by their own potential.
“It’s only been a few months,” Cody said. “It’ll be fine.”
"Did you face a lot of challenges when you were Mand'alor?" Han asked Jaster.
"Not like this," Jaster admitted. "Of course, things were very different back then. For many years, I was hardly ever in Keldabe."
"Where did you live?" Din asked.
"The Haat Mando'ade moved around a great deal. Those were the years of the Clan Wars. Since I was usually living in war camps with my own verde, I didn't face one-on-one challenges like Cody. Instead, I had to win whole battles to earn my title."
Cody rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
Jaster grinned, warming up to his topic. "You see, that's what kids these days don't understand-"
Everyone around the table groaned, and pushed back their chairs, eager to escape the dining table and Jaster's stories.
“So, how are your lessons going?” Jaster asked Han and Din, who both groaned. Jaster grabbed both their arms before they could escape, sitting them down on the couch with him. “Come on, come on, tell me about what you’ve been learning.”
They’d all left Aven to the dishes (except Three-Five, who’d stuck around to help dry) and migrated out to the living room. Almost immediately, Jango, Seventeen, and Boba had moved on outside, talking about something with Boba’s speeder bike. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon followed them out, though they were headed for the orchard. Everyone else spread out among the various chairs and couches scattered across the room.
“You’re sure you’ll be able to make the delivery to Teth next before the opening?” Cody was asked Nate. Nate had bought himself a ship years ago - originally so he’d have the freedom to travel and visit Sheeka whenever he wanted, but once he had the ship he started using it to find work as well. These days, he regularly did delivery runs on Federation business. Anyone who thought Cody was hiring Nate for deliveries because he must be getting a family discount had obviously never been subject to Jango Fett's lecture on proper contract negotiation. But he was reliable.
"You already finished the module! But didn't you just start it a week or two ago, that's wonderful!" Jaster exclaimed from the couch.
Maze leaned forward to join Cody and Nate's conversation, smirking. “Oh, he’ll be fine,” he said. “Word around the spaceport is that Nate Fett can get anything delivered anywhere.” Nate glared at Maze, whose smirk widened into a grin that was more baring his teeth than anything. “Might want to be careful that your reputation doesn’t spread too far. Vod of the Mand’alor or not, the Federation might not want to employ a known smuggler forever.” Nate rolled his eyes and grabbed Han’s datapad that he’d set to the side, and threw it at Maze.
Maze caught it, laughing, but Aven shouted indignantly from the kitchen doorway. "Hey! His coursework's on there!"
“Hey, where’s O’buir?” Three-Five asked, following Aven.
“In the orchard with Jinn,” Jaster said. “Why?”
“We need to talk about next year’s Vheh’goten anniversary,” Three-Five said, catching Cody's eyes.
"What about it?" Nate asked, confused.
"We want to do another big festival, like we did for the PKA anniversary," Cody explained.
"But you know how O'buir is, he'll fight us every step of the way if he thinks we're celebrating him," Three-Five added.
"So don't make it about him?" Din suggested.
"No, hide it from him!" Han guessed.
"Right you are, little man," Three-Five said, pointing at Han.
"I put Three-Five in charge of preparations," Cody explained. "Put he's going to need help."
"Not it," Aven said quickly. When he caught the several judgmental looks thrown his way, he held his hands up. "Hey, I've already got a commitment, Han's verd'goten is coming up soon. I don't want any more distractions."
Aw kriff. Cody felt his stomach drop a bit in anxiety. He hadn't had any time to work with Din in over a week. And his birthday was next month. Cody had absolutely no doubt that his son would pass his verd'goten, but still. Unlike Aven, Cody hadn't had the option to avoid other distractions - other responsibilities.
Thankfully, while Cody was worrying, Maze and Jaster had both volunteered to join Three-Five's planning team. The conversation drifted on, while Cody quietly scheduled a reminder for tomorrow to set aside some time for Din's training this week.
Obi-Wan walked out of the small orchard and back to the driveway in front of the house. Qui-Gon had asked if he could spend a few moments meditating with the trees - they were in full bloom, and were nearly singing in the Force. Obi-Wan understood. He meditated there almost every day during this season.
Whatever conversation Jango, Boba, and Seventeen had been having about Boba's speeder bike had apparently evolved into a demonstration. Jango was on the bike, a few yards down the lane, with Boba jogging up to him. "You heard it?" Obi-Wan could hear him call to his buir.
Seventeen was still standing in the driveway, watching them, so Obi-Wan walked up to join him.
"Will the bike survive?" Obi-Wan asked, smiling.
Seventeen snorted. "The bike's fine. Boba loosened a connector this morning so that Prime could 'fix' it for him tonight."
Obi-Wan blinked. "What?"
Seventeen shrugged. "It cheers him up to be useful, right? We all noticed."
Obi-Wan shifted, uncomfortable. The last few months had been hard. Obi-Wan wasn't an idiot, he could tell his riduur was struggling. But he knew things would continue to get better as Jango's physical recovery continued. "He's doing fine," he insisted. "PT days are just hard."
Seventeen didn't say anything, and Obi-Wan looked over to find the clone staring at him, face deadpan. "He's doing... fine," Seventeen repeated. When Obi-Wan didn't say anything, Seventeen sighed. "None of us were made for retirement, you know."
"He's not retiring, not if he doesn't want to," Obi-Wan insisted. "It's a hip injury, not a death sentence."
"But he can't do what he was doing before," Seventeen stated, cold and blunt as always.
"I have all the faith in the galaxy that Jango will find something new to become the best at," Obi-Wan said, with somewhat-forced cheer.
Seventeen hummed.
Down the lane, Jango slowly stood back up from where he'd been crouching by the bike. When Boba turned it on again, they both cheered and some imperceptible change in the sound of the engine.
“So, I went to talk to Windu yesterday,” Cody said, and hour or so later. He, Rex, and Jango were in the kitchen. Nate and Jinn had just left, Nate dropping the Jedi off at the temple before heading to his own apartment. He had an early departure the next morning.
Jango pulled a bottle of ne’tra gal from the conservator and grunted in acknowledgement. He hadn’t been on pain meds for a few months now, but while he was still gaining strength and balance back, baar’ur’s orders were one light drink a day only, and he'd been looking forward to it.
“I invited the Jedi to stay here permanently,” Cody continued.
Jango nodded as he popped the bottle open. No surprise there, really. The Jedi were overwhelmingly popular among the clones, and the Jedi children were popular with everyone else. While the Jedi were setting up new temples all over the galaxy, several of the council members and all of the younglings had remained on Manda’yaim since they’d left Coruscant nearly six months ago.
“How’d it go?” He asked.
“I appreciate the generosity, Mand’alor,” Mace said, face solemn as it almost always was. “But the Force calls us to make our homes throughout the galaxy.”
“Too long and too much on Coruscant, we were,” Yoda agreed.
They were watching a few younglings climbing all over Rex like he was a jungle gym. A little Rodian was standing on his shoulders, leaned forward and braced on the top of Rex's head for balance. Rex was holding very still, arms held out stiff so a couple other kids could swing off them. Cody wasn't sure, but he thought they might be play-acting one of the scenes from the last Brad Dragonsnake holofilm.
“Well, consider this an invitation to make one of your homes here,” Cody said, trying again. "We can add to the current buildings, or even build a full compound somewhere else on Manda'yaim, if you'd prefer."
“Appreciate the refuge here, we do,” Yoda said.
“But when it’s time, we’ll move on,” Mace said firmly.
“I don’t get it,” Rex complained, sitting down at the counter next to Cody, both of them facing Jango. “Why don’t they want to keep a temple here?”
“They’re stepping away from a millennia-long relationship with a galactic government,” Jango said. “Maybe they’re not looking to jump right into another one.”
“You think they’re worried about being too closely tied to the Federation?” Cody asked.
Jango shrugged. “Might be.”
“Jango, Pre’s here with the converter,” Obi-Wan called, before walking into the kitchen, Pre Vizsla behind him.
“Oh, you just happen to drop that off during family dinner?” Jango asked drily.
“I had a busy day, Fett,” Pre snarked back. “This is the only chance I’ve had to do you any favors.” The two glared at each other (thought with far less heat than they had a decade ago).
“Oh please, Pre you know you and your family is always welcome here for dinner,” Obi-Wan tutted. Aven called his name, so the Jedi turned back to the living room.
Jango sighed, and pulled another bottle of ne’tra gal out of the conservator, and handed it to Pre.
“What’s wrong with them?” Pre asked, nodding to the discouraged Cody and Rex.
“They’re trying to make the Jedi stay here,” Jango said.
Pre grimaced, then rolled his eyes. “Well, if you must,” he said, side-eying Cody, “but you can’t just bully them into it. Jettise are stubborn, even by our standards.”
Cody thumped his head down onto the counter. “Yes, alright, I get it,” he groaned. Rex patted him on the shoulder consolingly.
“What’s wrong with him?” Seventeen asked as he walked into the room
“He’s despairing over the stubbornness of Jedi,” Rex explained.
Seventeen looked more sympathetic than Jango had ever seen before, as he clapped Cody on the back. “They’re impossible,” he admitted.
“How do you get Jinn to do what you want?” Cody asked, lifting his head from the counter.
“You’re assuming I do get Jinn to do what I want,” Seventeen grumbled. The other four Mandalorians just stared at him, and Seventeen sighed. “When it works,” he said, as if admitting to a great secret, “it’s because I convinced him it was his own idea.”
“You want us to trick the Jedi into living here?” Rex asked.
“What?" Seventeen's face scrunched up in incredulity. "That’s what you’re trying to do?” Seventeen asked. He gestured to Jango, who rolled his eyes and turned back to the conservator for a third bottle of ne’tra gal.
“I want them to keep a temple here permanently, yes,” Cody said.
“So we need to make them want to stay, basically,” Rex said thoughtfully.
“What happened on Coruscant was complicated, but a lot of the chatter since then has been about reconnecting with the people of the galaxy,” Seventeen said. “They feel like they were too isolated on Coruscant.”
“Community,” Cody said, eyes focusing. “We need to make them feel like they’re part of our community.”
“They liked the PKA celebration,” Rex added, in agreement. “Could we do more stuff like that?”
“There’s the harvest festival,” Jango said. “But that’s not for months.”
“No, we’ll need something sooner than that,” Cody agreed. “Keep them interested long enough that they just never get around to leaving.”
“We need something else to celebrate,” Rex said. “Something that would interest the Jedi.”
“What else do the Jedi and Mandalorians have in common, except the clones?” Seventeen asked dubiously.
Pre Vizsla, who’d been staring down at his bottle of ne’tra gal, suddenly raised his head.
“I have an idea,” he said.
The sun had set hours ago, and Pre had left around that time. It was now getting close to midnight. Han and Din had already fallen asleep, both collapsed in Han’s bed upstairs. Cody had said he’d return for his son tomorrow, and had left with Jaster a few minutes ago. Boba, Aven, and Three-Five were clearing up the last of the mess in the kitchen. Seventeen had retreated to his room. Obi-Wan, Rex, and Jango were walking Maze out to their speeders.
“Maze, when will the first episode be released?” Obi-Wan asked.
“First episode of what?” Jango asked.
“Oh, that’s right, you were in the kitchen - Maze is starting a podcast!” Obi-Wan said.
“Oh, politics?” Jango guessed.
“Not quite,” Maze answered.
“Don’t get me wrong, there’s a compelling case for issues with organizational autonomy. But I still think the execution was bungled. We’re still seeing reports galaxy-wide of aid projects thrown into chaos by this move. The Jedi are making the right decision, ultimately, but did they make it in the right way?”
“Good point Vraith. I have some figures here from the Republic’s Bureau of-“
Maze rolled his eyes, rubbing more polish into the pauldron he was cleaning. This was the fourth or fifth time Sundari Symposium had criticized the Jedi Order for leaving the Republic so suddenly. He generally agreed with their take on most political issues (though Vraith Crahl could go kriff himself, seriously), but this one irritated him. They talked about the Jedi like they were supposed to be perfect, like they weren’t living beings just trying to do their best. It was clear none of them had ever met a Jedi, or at least hadn’t really gotten to know one.
Then again, not many people had the opportunity to regularly socialize with Jedi like Maze and his brothers did.
The idea came to life so suddenly that he sat there, frozen, going through the possibilities, until the polish on his rag dried up.
“Anyway, I’m going to interview different Jedi in each episode - give people the opportunity to see them as normal beings, rather than these mythical mysterious people.”
“Are the Jedi going to like that?” Jango asked, dubious. His impression had been that most Jedi preferred to maintain a certain public image.
“They want to feel like they’re connected to the galaxy again,” Rex said, almost to himself. Jango quirked an eyebrow, thinking back to the conversation with Seventeen.
“Yeah, the ones I’ve talked to so far seem excited,” Maze said. He turned back to Obi-Wan. “First episode will be next Taungsday.”
“I’m looking forward to listening,” he said, smiling.
“Who’s the first interview?” Rex asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Maze said with a smirk, as he dropped into his speeder and drove off.
"Everyone's busy," Jango muttered, watching Maze's speeder disappear down the lane.
"Which reminds me - Rex, any ideas yet on what you're doing next?" Obi-Wan asked, reaching over and hugging Rex to his side.
"Ugh, please don't remind me. It's been such a good night," Rex wined, trying to twist away from Obi-Wan.
Jango followed the two of them back inside, as Obi-Wan once again started listing career ideas for Rex.
"Come on, didn't Ahsoka send you a bunch of ideas yesterday? Did any of them look interesting?" Obi-Wan demanded as they stepped into the house.
"They looked fine. But nothing that really, I don't know, inspired me, I guess." Rex said.
Jango locked up the door behind them.
"Aw, is Rex'ika not feeling inspired?" Three-Five cooed, walking across the living room towards the stairs.
"Ne'johaa," Rex grumbled, and jogged after Three-Five to try and catch him in a headlock, but the younger clone dashed up the stairs before he could reach him.
"I suppose that's it for family night," Obi-Wan said, smiling over at Jango. He held out a hand. "Sleep?"
Jango took his riduur's hand, and the two made their way (a bit more slowly now, stairs were still rough on Jango's hip) up towards the bedrooms.