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The rain outside was torrential. If the noodle stall hadn't been lifted onto a curb, Ika might have worried about flooding. The rains would stay for a few weeks, turning the dry, yellow grass of Lothal into a waving sea of lush green, studded with millions of blooming wildflowers. The annual bloom was a sight to behold. In the days before the Empire, people even travelled from distant systems just to see it. But while the monsoons brought beauty, they also had a downside: the downpour would keep all but the bravest customers inside and away from the shop.
One such brave customer stood just outside now. Ika couldn't see their face, obscured by the short curtains of damp flags, but he could see a pair of long legs in worn, gray pants, ending in a pair of leather boots. Mismatched boots, the Mon Calamari noticed. The left one looked as if it pinched.
"Well?" Ika grumbled loudly. "Don't just stand there getting wet. Are you in or out?"
"In," replied a familiar voice. The mismatched boots splashed through the puddles in the street, bringing their wearer closer to the welcoming warmth of the noodle stall.
He'd been coming to the shop for a couple of years now. Ika considered him a regular. Well, as much a regular as one who was so often light on credits could be. But he almost always managed to scrape up enough for a visit when "spicy crab" lit up the specials board on the corner post.
"The taste reminds me of home," the human had explained once.
"And where's that?" Ika had asked.
"Doesn't matter. It's not there anymore."
Sometimes he came alone, squeezing his tall-for-a-human frame into a stool in the corner. Other times his large, noisy family filled every seat at the counter. Ika would never admit it—after all, he had a certain reputation for being an unrepentant grump to uphold—but he liked those times. He enjoyed the laughter of the kids and the noisy way the Lasat slurped his noodles to show his appreciation. He even liked watching the banged-up astromech patrolling the street outside like a Corellian hound. But most of all he enjoyed seeing his human regular smiling for change, his head bent close together with his partner over their bowls as they whispered to each other. Those were the only times he could remember really seeing the young man look happy.
He certainly didn't look happy now as he ducked under the short flags of fabric hanging from the roof. The corners of his mouth were pulled down into that near-perpetual frown and the crescents of thin skin beneath his eyes had taken on a purplish, unhealthy color—a symptom of sleep deprivation in humans, Ika had learned in his many years peddling noodles out of the tiny corner shop. But his frown melted into an almost smile as he stepped into the steamy warmth of the stall. He paused to inhale deeply through his nose, eyes closing as he released the breath with a contented sound.
"Spicy crab," he sighed.
"Wondered if that might draw you out of hiding," Ika grunted, hefting a large pot of broth to the burner. "Haven't seen you around for a while, Kanan Jarrus."
Kanan flashed a smile, lopsided and weary. "Yeah, that happens when your face is plastered across half the wanted posters in town."
He was soaked through from the heavy downpour outside and paused to give his head of long hair a shake like a wet bantha, spraying droplets of rain across the dented wooden countertop. Then he sank into a stool with a quiet groan. He sported an impressive bruise on his jawline and a healing cut over the sharp bridge of his nose. It wasn't unusual for the Ghost crew to look a little banged up when they came in for dinner. Ika had known them long enough to realize they made a living from harassing the Empire, and that was dangerous work.
"Saw your little display at Empire Day last week," Ika said, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the rain falling outside. "Best parade we've had in years."
One corner of Kanan's mouth tugged up into a smirk, a soft snort escaping his nose. "Yeah, Sabine knows how to put on a good show."
Ika tossed a handful of flour across his workstation, grabbing the lump of pale yellow dough he'd been resting. He paused just long enough to light a cigarette before getting his long, thin rolling pin. His forearms, thick with muscles from years of making noodles, worked as he rolled out the dough into a wide sheet.
"So," he mumbled as he worked, the cigarette hanging precariously from his lips, "rough day?"
Kanan sighed, leaning back in his stool and scrubbing his hands over his face. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two, his cheeks covered by a shadow of dark stubble. "More like a rough few months."
Ika turned the dough, feeling it in his hands. It was almost thin enough. He took the cigarette between webbed fingers white with flour, blowing a plume of pale smoke toward the ceiling.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Kanan chuckled humorlessly. "Let's see, where to start." He began ticking off the list on his fingers. "The water reclamator is on the fritz again, which means no hot showers. Our last job only paid half of what they promised. Fuel prices are going up. Chopper hid my left boot and won't tell me where he put it. I'm worried that Hera isn't considering the long-term future of our relationship. And I think I might accidentally be ruining Ezra because I have no idea what I'm doing other than just repeating half-remembered lessons from when I was fourteen."
He buried his face in his hands.
Ika nodded slowly, taking it all in. Perhaps it would have been faster to ask what Kanan wasn't worried about. He knocked a bit of ash from his cigarette to the floor. "How old are you again?"
"Twenty-eight," came the miserable reply from between Kanan's fingers.
Poor kid. Ika hummed thoughtfully, the barbs on his chin vibrating with the sound.
"Sounds like you could use something a little stronger than soup." He reached into the cooler behind the counter and pulled out a bottle of tsiraki, smoothly sliding it down the countertop toward the human. "On the house."
Kanan didn't emerge from his hands. If anything, he just crumpled even more. "I can't." He sounded on the verge of tears. "I'm a recovering alcoholic."
Okay, no tsiraki then. Just as smoothly, Ika swiped the bottle away again. "Soup it is."
He deftly folded the thin sheet of dough over itself before grabbing his cleaver. With more delicacy than the large knife seamed capable of, he sliced the dough on his workbench into thin noodles. As he worked he gave Kanan's slumped figure an appraising look over the counter between them. "An extra portion of crab ought to do it," he said with a definitive nod. "Whaddaya say?"
The reply was so quiet he almost didn't catch it. "Yes, please."
Ika knocked his knuckles on the countertop with a wink. "Coming right up."
He rolled the uncooked noodles around his fingers, laying the small nests on the floured cutting board. He put one of the bundles into his long-handled basket before plunking it into a pot of boiling water. While the noodles cooked, he riffled through the shelves for a deep bowl that looked mostly clean. He gave it a perfunctory wipe with his apron before ladling a spoonful of bright red chili sauce into the bottom. Over that went a generous pour of clear, steaming broth from the pot simmering happily on the burner. He pulled the basket of noodles, giving it a hard shake to remove the excess water, and dumped them in too. Next came the crab, a generous portion piled high in the center of the bowl, and a drizzle of garlic oil that sizzled when it hit the broth. Finally, a flurry of spring onion slices to finish it all off. He plopped the bowl down in front of Kanan with a grunt.
"Thanks." The human pulled the bowl closer, putting his face into the fragrant steam. His eyes closed for a moment, the tension draining from his features as he breathed in. He picked up his utensils from the countertop, digging into the bowl with gusto. Ika continued to smoke, watching in amusement as Kanan shovelled noodles into his mouth. Rain pattered on the roof and the water bubbled gently in the pots.
"Good?" Ika asked, his cigarette burned down to a short nub.
Kanan looked up from his bowl, wiping his mouth with his hand. He nodded.
"Yeah." A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I am now."
