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There was nothing wrong with reading his messages at work, okay? Feemor always kept an eye on the door. He was just hidden while doing it.
No one ever came here anyway outside of the working hours of the civilians employed by the Temple to run its administration, hangars, and Halls. He still had over an hour to wait with absolutely no one in sight and nothing else to do but be there. He had already read the entire War Cycle saga – three times – and listened to three seasons of cooking podcasts, not to mention discovering three thousand seven hundred and twenty-two new songs since he had become a Guardian and been assigned to this guard post.
That was a lot.
He was not wishing for problems, he was not there yet, but he would like things to be a little more lively.
He really should take on a Padawan.
"Who are you?" He whispered curiously, seeing that the number was not listed in his contacts and that the message began with "If I told you that-".
Intrigued, he obviously read the message and immediately frowned.
Unknown - If I told you that I accidentally stole 127 tons of explosives from some Hutts, you'd say...
You - That you've got the wrong number.
Unknown - Kal, be serious for a minute!
You - I'm not Kal.
Unknown - ... You're not?
He was not, but he felt strangely involved in the stranger's situation. It probably had something to do with the "stole stuff from the Hutts" part. Everyone dreamed of a chance to piss off the Hutts.
You - I'm not. Now quickly check the laws in the Sector where you stole the cargo to make sure you won't have any problems. Normally the Hutts are an exception to the laws against piracy, but it's better to check.
Unknown - ...
Unknown - Okay, thanks.
You - You're welcome.
His messages remained silent for a few minutes, so he thought it was over.
It was not over.
Unknown - It's okay, no charges to worry about!
You - I'm glad to hear it.
Unknown - By the way, do you often give legal advice to strangers who have stolen stuff?
You - You're the first.
Unknown - Oh, so I'm special!
"Oh, yes, you're a special case," he sneered, rolling his eyes, amused by his stupidity.
He was almost like Master Saa's last Padawan, Agen. He was a bit of the same kind of shit-stirrer. And peacock.
This time he thought it was it and that the conversation would end there, but the opposite happened. Jaster, with whom he ended up exchanging names, continued to talk to him often enough that he ended up giving the other man more legal advice. He was clearly living a dangerous life and often found himself in situations that were… legally interesting, to say the least.
And when they were not talking about legislation, podracing, or combat sports, they spent most of their time flirting.
In a platonic way, of course.
It was very innocent.
Unknown - I'm dead.
You - All right, same time tomorrow?
Unknown - There won't be a tomorrow.
Unknown - I'm trapped, I won't be able to get out in time.
You - What do you mean?
You - Where are you?
Unknown - Coruscant.
You - Where EXACTLY?
Unknown - Are you there too?
Unknown - There's nothing you can do anyway.
You - I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked for your coordinates. Now answer me.
Unknown - The fire has already spread and I can't walk, you wouldn't make it in time anyway.
You - Do I really have to beg you? Give me the address and where you are. I'll go to your funeral.
Surprisingly, this convinced the reluctant man, and Feemor was given an address. He requested an emergency replacement, which was granted, and hurried down the levels of the planet. It was quite low, but by jumping from building to building and dropping several dozen meters at a time, Feemor quickly saw the reflection of the flames and smoke rising into the sky, dark, toxic, and reeking, appear in the distance.
You - Are you still with me?
Unknown - Yes.
You - What floor? Which side? What do you look like?
You - I'm outside, so hurry up.
He got another reply, this time without delay, and discovered that the place was some kind of inn as he made his way through the horrified crowd to get closer.
Once close, he pushed his way through to get inside, not wasting a second to move forward. His mask filtered smoke and gases, but only to a certain extent. His equipment also dimmed the flickering lights, but nothing else.
He could only imagine how terrible the heat must be for Jaster if he himself was suffering.
One floor, two floors, three floors... once he saw the fourth floor, Feemor jumped into the stairwell and ran to the landing, looking for any sign of life, kicking the door open to reach the only person still alive.
He would have saved anyone, but he had to admit that it was a relief to him that it was indeed a Mandalorian in red and black armour who weakly turned his head toward him.
The man weakly reached out his hand toward him but fainted mid-movement, leaving Feemor to lift him up and carry them closer to the window so they could jump.
Absolutely not comfortable, but 100% necessary.
Once safely on the roof of the nearest building, Feemor hesitated for a second before returning to the Temple with his precious cargo to entrust him to their health professionals under the pretext that this man was one of their informants.
He had slightly improvised with this one, but no one questioned him.
"What am I going to do with you, you idiot?" He muttered after changing his clothes and returning when he was told that his patient was now allowed to receive visitors and just needed rest.
The hand in his tightened, taking him by surprise as the recovering Mandalorian opened his eyes and smiled sardonically.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Need I remind you which one of us needed saving and who provided said rescue?"
"You mean the fool who threw himself into a burning building?"
Feemor rolled his eyes.
"Don't think about it too much."
"Hmm," Jaster replied softly. "Do you have my com?"
"Yes, it's. . . here it is."
"Please send Jango a message to let him know I'm okay. He must be terrified."
"Who's Jango?" Feemor asked, seeing 52 missed calls from him and some 76 text messages of increasing desperation.
"My son. A lovely kid, you'll see."
"We'll see," he confirmed, explaining the situation to Jango and giving him directions to the Temple so he could come and pick him up. "Rest, everything will be fine."
"Stay?"
"I'll stay."
It was not attachment, was it? The Knight wondered, placing his other hand on their clasped hands. He was just worried about a friend like any normal person would be: it was not the same thing.
It was different.