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The day starts innocently enough, or at least as innocently as it can when you’re Ahsoka Tano. She’s sitting at a table in the Galactic Republic’s latest interdimensional bar, the kind that accommodates every universe’s quirks. Across from her, Barriss looks like she’s trying to be “good”, but that’s never really worked for her. The two women have been “on break”, as Barriss put it, for about ten minutes, which probably means they’ll get back to making bad decisions soon.
Ahsoka nudges the glass of spotchka with her finger, watching it tilt precariously.
“I still can’t believe we’re here.” Barriss rolls her eyes.
“Yes, we’re in a random universe where the laws of space and time are irrelevant. I’m thrilled, really.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Ahsoka grins, her lekku twitching. “You’re here, and you’re not screaming, so I’d call that progress.” Barriss gives her a look that could stop an entire battalion.
“You know, sometimes I think you enjoy torturing me.” Ahsoka tilts her head, innocently.
“Torture? Me?” Before Barriss can respond, a sudden voice interrupts them.
“Oh my god. Who the fuck left this here?” Everyone turns to see Catra storming toward them, her usual confident strut only slightly marred by the very large puddle of spotchka she’s currently standing in. Behind her, Adora follows, looking amused.
“That would be mine,” Ahsoka says with a smirk. “Guess you shouldn’t have stood there, huh?” Catra glares, but Adora sighs and places a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder.
“Let’s not start another fight. You’re already covered in—that.”
“I’ll kill them. I swear to the First Ones—”
“Catra,” Adora says calmly, but there’s a smile in her voice. “Not here. Not now.” Catra glares at her, then looks at the table, then back at Ahsoka.
“You’re lucky she’s here.” She turns and walks away, dragging Adora with her. Ahsoka watches them go, arching a brow.
“That’s one way to get through the day.” Barriss snorts.
“Please. You’ve never dealt with real chaos.” Ahsoka shrugs.
“I’ve seen enough. Besides, it’s pretty nice, for a break from the whole galaxy-fighting thing. You know?” Barriss is once again interrupted by a loud, bickering voice comes from across the room.
“You’re still calling her?”
“Shut up, Korra, we’re just talking,” Asami’s voice is almost drowning out the chaotic storm of sound behind her. Korra, standing beside her, is in full ‘I’m about to get into a fight’ mode. Asami’s slightly tense smile says it all—she’s not going to let Korra make a scene.
“You said that last time!” Korra insists. “You always call her at the weirdest times.”
“Don’t drag me into this,” Barriss mutters under her breath, glancing up at Ahsoka.
“Maybe they’ll get along,” Ahsoka offers, laughing softly. "They seem like the type to bond over… chaos?" Korra’s gaze finally lands on the two Jedi.
“Okay, hold up, we have to— wait, is that blue milk?!” Asami looks horrified.
“You’re seriously going to spill something else?” But Korra’s already grabbing the glass before Asami can stop her.
“I’m thirsty!” Ahsoka raises her hand, palm out.
“Hey, if you spill any more, we might have a problem.”
“No promises,” Korra calls over her shoulder, already gulping down what’s left of the drink. Barriss pinches the bridge of her nose.
“That's spotchka." Korra spits it over the table. "This is what I get for leaving the temple.”
“I think you’re better off than me,” Ahsoka says, smirking. “You haven’t seen these two fight over anything… yet.” Adora’s voice drifts over to them from the other table, now joined by Catra, who looks like she’s about to tear Korra’s head off for—whatever she’s doing.
“Is there a space-time continuum for ‘stop messing with my girlfriend’?” Ahsoka’s eyes meet Barriss’s.
“You want to help?” Barriss raises an eyebrow.
“I think we’re better off letting them sort themselves out.” Ahsoka shrugs.
“Fair enough. I just wanted to see if this would turn into a warzone.”
“Next time,” Barriss says dryly, “ask me before you drag me into whatever this mess is.” Ahsoka grins.
“Deal.”
Before they can fully settle into that weird kind of peace, a new voice rings out from across the room.
“Don’t you dare even think about making her cry again.” Gideon Nav, of all people, has just stormed into the room with a vengeance. Harrow, walking beside her, is the picture of calm—well, as calm as someone who’s been stuck in an endless dimension with their girlfriend for what feels like eternity. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.
“Gideon, you’re making a scene,” Harrow hisses, but the edge of her voice betrays her amusement.
“No! You’re not telling me that this time!” Gideon practically shouts, pointing at Asami and Korra’s table. “If I see you hurt her again—”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Harrow says dryly, turning her gaze toward the loud, angry Gideon. “Because you’ll get distracted by the pretty blue drink. Don’t pretend I don’t know you.”
“Oh, shut up, Harrow.” Gideon huffs but keeps walking toward the table, only to stop when she notices Barriss and Ahsoka sitting across from each other. “Oh, hey! You’re—what are you doing here?”
“Drinking,” Ahsoka replies, “you?”
“Same. With yelling. And maybe drink-sliding.” Harrow rolls her eyes again.
“You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“I’m defending you. That’s not embarrassing.”
“I’m not a damsel in distress, Gideon.”
“Oh, come on, where’s the fun in not being dramatic?” Gideon grins and shrugs. “Besides, I’m giving you the fun of seeing it all go down. Come on, just look at that beer.”
The chaos starts again, but this time, Barriss is standing. She’s done with the unpredictable mess of whatever these people are up to.
Ahsoka looks over at her.
“I’ll just be over here, pretending I’m in charge for a while.”
Barriss glares, and Ahsoka laughs.