Master Apprentice
Archive
Good Investment
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Category: Angst, AU, Humor
Archiving: MA. If anyone else wants it, please email address below.
Rating: R for crude innuendo and crude direct statements
Warnings: Heterosexual worship and female masturbation. Also bad pick up lines. Note that series is an mpreg series, but actual pregnancy is barely referred to in this story.
Spoilers: only if you are very, very good at literary analysis.
Summary: Memeris invests in a special chair. In response to Terri Hamill’s vibrating office chair challenge. It didn’t quite match the description, and I guess it isn’t quite slash either as Memeris is a woman, but hey, I went with the inspiration when it struck. Yet another prequel to Against All Odds: Reunion, takes place approximately ten months post-TPM.
Special thanks to Becca my cheerleader and Ceria, my beta and other cheerleader. Any remaining mistakes are probably due to my obsessive-compulsive tinkering. Also thanks to hikaru for reminding me that I wanted this archived.
Feedback: would be most appreciated at ms_nawilla@hotmail.com
Series:
Good Investment: (Terri Hamill’s vibrating chair challenge.)
(here)
Enthusiasm ('are you masturbating' challenge)
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/c/challenge.html#enthusiasm
Needed (more masturbation, I’m sensing a trend here.)
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/n/needed.html
Rip Tide (Qui-Gon has actual sex in lieu of masturbation.)
http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/r/riptide.html
Against All Odds: Reunion (no one gets any so far, but they dream interesting dreams.)
(still in progress, see m-a list)
Against All Odds: (later chapters with other subtitles hopefully. Hopefully someone will get some in reality.)
They say that anger is just love disappointed,
They say that love is just a state of mind.
-- Don Henley, Glenn Frey, "Hole in the World"
"What in the Sith is all this?"
Memeris looked up from her place on the floor, apparently at the center of a recently deceased whirlwind. Packing materials, electronics, tools and datapads surrounded her. Frowning, Obi-Wan sniffed the air suspiciously. Corellian leather. Mer shrugged helplessly, then grinned.
"It's my new chair."
Obi-Wan carefully put down the baby carrier, cringing a moment, then relaxing when Aeris did not wake. He then straightened up and stretched while he surveyed the chaos that was once their pristine sitting room. "Your chair?"
"Yes!" Memeris nearly crowed before Obi-Wan's frantic look reined in her enthusiasm. Both turned to Aeris, who whimpered in his sleep. With care, Obi-Wan picked up the fretful infant and settled him on his shoulder while Mer continued her gleeful explanation, though a bit more quietly this time.
"Yes, Obi-Wan," she whispered this time. "My chair, for my data desk. You know how those wooden stools the Temple stores provided us with make my back ache."
"They were designed for monks, Mer. They are supposed to make your back ache." Aeris chose that moment to cough and Obi-Wan checked his shoulder for spit up.
Memeris gave him a sour look before burying her head back in the assembly instructions. "I'm not into pain, Obi-Wan." Slyly she glanced up at him and fluttered her eyelids. "Then again . . ."
For a moment he gave her the horrified look he had recently developed whenever anyone mentioned anything violent or overtly sexual in front of his precious and innocent babe. Fortunately, after a moment he decided that lecturing her about innuendo in front of a person who could only recognize at most three words (one of which was 'food') was not worth the risk of waking up said colicky person, and he let the comment go unchallenged.
Fortunate, but still a shame somehow. Memeris had been hoping for a lay. Or a grope. Or even a sultry look. At least until—
"How complicated is this chair? It looks more like your putting together a data terminal than a piece of furniture. What are all the cables and electronics for?"
She chewed nervously on her lip a moment before looking up at him, her grin flirtatious once more. "It's more than a chair. It's a good investment."
He raised his eyebrow and gave her that look, the one that made her nether regions tingle despite the dark circles under his sinfully-gorgeous eyes. And the green nappy on his shoulder.
"It has . . . special features."
His other eyebrow joined its mate. Damn, he has fine eyebrows. Memeris wondered if he was actually compulsive enough to sculpt them.
"It has a massage function . . for aching backs." A faint blush washed over her cheeks as his gaze grew suspicious. "And it has built in heating panels." He sat up a bit straighter, the prim and proper padawan. "Perfect for a hardened warrior like myself to relax with after a mission."
He opened his mouth to mention how she was not going to be going on any missions until her master got her head on straight, without actually mentioning the nutty master part.
"And it vibrates."
He closed his mouth.
"Don't look at me like that." She tossed her head and made a show of scanning the directions again while moving some metal bolts ineffectually, trying not to shift in her seat. "It's very therapeutic."
He looked over the piles of metal, machinery, padding and leather that were somehow supposed to come together as an ergonomic office chair. Or a chaise lounge of sin. "Are there therapeutic effects to assembling it yourself?" he quietly asked at last. Aeris woke up and promptly vomited white sludge onto Obi-Wan's nappy-shielded shoulder. Obi-Wan wiped the infant's mouth clear, adjusted the cloth, then tried to soothe him back to sleep.
Memeris focused on the spit up. Now was clearly not a good time to pursue her lustful fantasies. Then again, the next year or so looked like it wouldn't be a good time either. "Well," she drawled when her somewhat Jedi-like calm was restored. "I thought it would be a good bonding experience if you helped me put it together."
His eyes narrowed, darkening to green. She tried not to squirm.
"I couldn't afford to have it assembled and to buy my share of the groceries," she admitted at last. "I didn't think you'd want teething biscuits for dinner again."
He sighed as Aeris whimpered and began to gum at his fist. "Yes Mer, it is difficult to doctor up zwieback." He tried to coax a pacifier into the baby's mouth.
Memeris released her frustration to the Force. Obi-Wan had other concerns besides her hormones, and didn't really need her teasing him about her new chair, still in pieces all over the floor. Despite the fact that he probably needed some of those special good vibration settings even more than she did. Aeris began to fuss and Obi-Wan began to sway and coo soothingly.
Way more than she did. She looked at the directions in disgust and tossed the datapad back into the pile. The least she could do was throw him a bone.
"You know, if you help me put this together, this mess will be cleaned up ten times faster than if I do it myself."
He straightened, his gaze sharp and intense like a hunter catching wind of his prey. He turned toward her, his eyes almost sparkling, a faint grin playing across his lips. Now it was Memeris fighting not to whimper. He leaned forward to speak, his voice low in deference to the fretful child. "When do we start?"
Memeris blinked up at him, wondering why the Sith hell she had bothered spending her hard-earned stipend on an erotic chair.
Aeris began to wail.
"Mmmmmmmmm."
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
"Oooooh, oooh, yes, oooh."
Hrrmmhrrmmhrrmmhrrmmhrrmm.
"Hah, . . oh yes, . . ooh, right there . . . ooh."
HRMrhmHRMrhmHRMrhmHRMrhm.
"Aaahhhhh, . . ." Memeris slumped in her new chair and tried to wipe the blindingly bright grin off her face. She failed cheerfully, then slid her nearly boneless frame off her new favorite piece of furniture and slipped into a robe. So blissful was her mood, she didn't even leave the top tie unfastened so she could watch Obi-Wan blush and try unobtrusively signal that her cleavage was showing.
She had attained a new level of serenity. She didn't need cleavage this morning.
"Good morning!" With a spring in her step and her back finally free of each and every kink (even if the rest of her wasn't), Memeris bounded into the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of strong, dark caf. Gulping down a large mouthful, she turned to Obi-Wan sitting at the kitchen table.
"Sleep . . . well?" What the hell happened?
Sitting was too active a verb to describe it. Rather, Obi-Wan was slumping at the table, as if what little was left of his will was the only thing keeping him from succumbing to gravity and hitting the linoleum. His skin was pale, his chin was carpeted in stubble and his hair looked as if some giant toddler had tried to pet him to death. After a long moment he slowly lifted his head and blinked at her with bloodshot eyes.
"No."
Memeris tried not to stare at the red-gold bristles erupting out of Obi-Wan's face. So meticulous was he that she had never seen him with anything more than a shadow of a beard before. She had forgotten he actually had hair there. Forcing her mind into a sympathetic mode, she focused on his eyebags and tried to look concerned. "What happened?"
His usually sexy eyebrow made a half-hearted attempt to rise. "I take it you weren't disturbed?" After a moment he dropped his gaze and stared at his own mug instead of continuing the effort of keeping it up.
"Disturbed?" Nothing of note had happened. She had given herself a full body massage and then slept like a baby. Then woken up and had another one. All she remembered from the night before was perfectly heavenly unconsciousness.
Clearly Obi-Wan had experienced something less idyllic. Maybe her new chair was a little too therapeutic.
"Obi-Wan, what happened?"
His head, which had been starting to dip, jerked back up. After several moments of confused blinking, his brain translated her question and he slumped again.
"Colic."
"Colic?" Memeris peered into the crib just outside the kitchen. Aeris was sleeping deeply. Too deeply. Not that she knew all that much about human babies, but this was not the sleep of one who was going to wake up soon. It was the sleep of a person who had finally succumbed to exhaustion and wouldn't be waking up in the near future.
It was the kind of sleep that Obi-Wan looked as if he were about to engage in, if only he could find a clear descent path to the floor. Slept like a baby indeed.
"Sorry about the . . . noise." Obi-Wan's voice was dull, his normal clipped tones almost slurred in exhaustion. He looked utterly drained, and not in a good way. Memeris started to feel more than a little guilty about her own 'noise.'
"I, . . um, I hope I didn't do anything to cause it."
He looked up at her blearily. She wondered if she looked more attractive when viewed in soft focus.
"You didn't feed Aeris any thorn weed, did you?"
Thorn weed? "Um, no." She tried to decide whether he was just being sarcastic or was actually delirious.
"Then no," he mumbled after a long moment. "I think it's safe to say it wasn't your fault."
Unobtrusively, Memeris sat down at the table and sipped at her caf, debating whether she should offer to cook something and if she did, whether Obi-Wan would end up face down in it. She had just decided cold cereal was probably safest for all parties involved when he spoke again.
"My master did that once."
"What?" What were we talking about? She looked at him incredulously. "Your master fed you thorn weed?"
He made a faint noise, barely more than a movement of air, which she later realized was a weak snort. "Not me, no." He yawned openly and fumbled his mug to his lips. "My mount."
She blinked at him, not sure where this was going.
"I thought he had done it on purpose. To make me sympathetic to . . ." He yawned again. "To . . . to dumber animals."
Her jaw dropped. "Master Living Force fed your mount thorn weed? By accident?"
Obi-Wan grunted affirmatively. "He needed his vision adjusted. Couldn't see up close." He yawned again. "Wouldn't admit it." He put his mug down on a clear spot on the table, then stared listlessly at a wet ring left behind from when he had poured the tea water. He made no move to wipe the ring away, which Memeris was sure he would have done quickly and compulsively if he had had any energy to spare at the moment. "He could be really dumb sometimes," he said at last, possibly to the water ring.
Memeris moved to pick up a napkin. Obi-Wan only spoke about his master when he was openly distressed. Somehow, she thought the disorder in front of him could only be upsetting him more. However, her actions went unnoticed as the puzzling neat freak of a man before her looked closer at the slowly evaporating circle and began running his finger along it, tracing the liquid's path.
"Of course he wasn't the one who got bucked off into the mud."
Genuinely concerned, she gently put a hand on his wrist, halting the distracting motion. "How is your master doing, Obi-Wan?" She looked at him intently. It was several moments before his reddened eyes dragged his face up to meet hers.
He shrugged after another long moment. "Master Yoda says he keeps complaining about not being able get a vid link." He looked away. "He doesn't like that he can't see me out here." There was a tired bitterness in his tone, and he closed his eyes against it, trying to release it, but too exhausted at the moment to find relief in the Force. "When he was still on heavy meds, he threatened to come here." His breath grew shaky, his hand trembled, but Memeris was hard-pressed to guess which emotions caused this.
"Yoda said he wouldn't believe I wasn't dead and that they just wouldn't tell him in the ward." He turned back to look at their hands. Memeris wondered if she should let go. "Because he couldn't see me."
He blinked.
"Now he just asks Yoda what I'm studying."
She squeezed his wrist. It was lean, growing strong again. But too thin. He was spread too thin.
"He doesn't talk about coming here anymore."
She met his eyes.
"He still hasn't seen me." He looked away again.
"Can't he hear you at least, in your oral reports to Master Yoda and Master Billaba?"
He actually seemed to slump more. "He can't hear me talking to him."
There was no right thing to say to that. Memeris squeezed his wrist one more time, then got up to get out the cereal. Maybe if I keep him talking, he'll stay awake long enough to finish eating it.
"Well look on the bright side, Obi-Wan. I thought you didn't want him or whoever your boyfriend was out here anyway."
Another weak half snort. "If he were here last night, I would have killed him."
Memeris's laugh died as his mug shattered on the floor.
"I DIDN'T MEAN IT!"
"Obi-Wan?"
"I didn't mean it, oh Force, I didn't mean it!" He had gone five shades paler and the mild trembling in his hands had turned into fierce shaking throughout his frame. "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"
Struck dumb, Memeris stared at him. What is he talking about?
Obi-Wan curled in on himself, still shaking, his hands on his ears as if to keep himself from hearing whatever he had said and not meant. A movement from the crib broke Memeris out of her paralysis. The last thing Obi-Wan needed right now was someone else pitching a fit.
"Obi-Wan, calm down, it's alright." Cautiously she put a hand on his shoulder and he shuddered again. "I know you didn't mean it Obi-Wan." He sniffed suspiciously and huddled up in the chair, calming himself as best he could.
She knelt down beside his chair and took him by the hands. He allowed it, but didn't look up at her, too busy forcing air into his lungs in measured gulps. You idiot. You know he was sent here to heal. What's the matter with you?
Unfortunately she didn't know what was wrong with her, mainly because she still wasn't sure what she had done to set him off. Or if in fact she had done anything.
"I know you didn't mean it, Obi-Wan."
He nodded, still sniffing, then raised his head. He didn't look at her, but stared past her, to the crib in the next room and swiped at his reddened eyes.
"I don't want him, . . . I don't want him dead." He choked on the last word.
"I know you don't, Obi-Wan," she murmured, not yet understanding. Hesitantly, she pulled him toward her for a supportive and entirely platonic hug. She gasped, not quite prepared when he fell into it, almost desperately.
Think about it Mer, when's the last time somebody hugged him? She closed her eyes and hugged him back, a small selfish part of her relishing the chance. His arms were wrapped around her, like his wrists, lean and strong. Her hands slid up and down his back, her touch soothing him, even as it stimulated her. He sighed again and his well-muscled back finally stopped its spasms and began to relax. Too bad your chair doesn't have an Obi-Wan setting.
"Thank you." His voice was still shaky and muffled against her shoulder, but he pulled away. Grateful, but still closed.
"You're welcome." She squeezed his hands before letting him go, then stood up and helped him back into his chair, worrying about how tired he must be since he let her without protest. The last time he had done that he had been at the healers.
"Come on Obi-Wan, let's get you to bed."
He shook his head. "I have work to do. I'm behind on my exercise program and my portfolio isn't done, and I have kitchen duty this afternoon."
She glared at him, attempting the raised eyebrow but knowing her expression didn't pack the same punch. "I don't think anyone in your condition should be in the gym right now, much less around knives. You are going to bed and then you are calling Ollie and you are not going to argue about." She put her hands on her hips. He looked up at her cautiously.
"No arguments."
He huffed slightly.
"No."
"I am signed up for work Mer."
"And I'll call you in. Bed!" She pointed toward his small room, her arm extended. He opened his mouth to protest. "Bed!" He looked pointedly at Aeris, then opened his mouth again. She took a deep breath but managed to not raise her voice. "I'll take him to the crèche. Bed!"
He slumped in defeat, before slowly getting to his feet. "Yes, dear," he grated out, though there was some faint hint of his old humor in it. He walked over to the crib, checking on the child within one more time before taking his own rest. Memeris crossed her arms and leaned against the door jamb, wanting to be certain he actually made it all the way to his room.
With gentle hands, he smoothed the blankets, ensuring the child was as comfortable as possible. For a moment, the tightly closed man she shared these rooms with opened. For a moment, his face glowed with love and hope. And then it was over, and he had closed up again. He met her eyes.
"You don't need to bring his formula to the crèche. Just his pacifiers."
Memeris fought the urge to snort. Other new parents, knights and padawans alike, sent their children to the crèche with a single sticky pacifier, often attached to their child by a tether. Obi-Wan preferred to send Aeris to the crèche with a half dozen, clean, dry and in a sterile container.
"I know Obi-Wan, we've been through this." She raised her arm again. "Bed."
He looked at her quizzically. "Isn't that what got me into this mess in the first place?" She opened her mouth to protest and he stepped back. "I'm going, I'm going." She stared after her until his door closed and his bedsprings squeaked as he hit the mattress, her muscles tight as she resisted the urge to follow him in body as her fantasies followed him in her mind. Bed indeed.
Glancing at the chrono, she wondered if she had enough time for another massage.
"Oooh."
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
"Ohhh, . . nice . . . ohhh."
Thrmmmmmmmmmmm.
"Oh! . . oh yes, very nice. . . mmmm, . . . oh, more of that."
Hrrmmrrmmhrrmmrrmmhrrmm.
"Aaaahhh, . . aaaahhh . . . ohhhh . . . aaahhhh . ."
RrrmmmRrrmmmRrrmmmRrrmmmRrrmmm.
"Ohhh, . . . oh! Force! YES! YES! YES! YES! FORCE! AHHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH! OH SWEET GODS ABOVE! YES! Ohhhhhhhhh. Yes. Oh. Wow."
Still panting, Memeris ran her hands along the supple black leather cradling her and closed her eyes, relishing every last warm tingle as the chair powered down. Who needed a boyfriend when one had a hot as hell housemate, a photographic memory and a fresh out of the box intimate attachment set?
"Gods, that was good." Reluctantly she slid out of the chair and into her robe, barely remembering to close it at all over her naked form before she started the chair on clean up cycle and left her room.
Stumbling, still half drunk on endorphins, Memeris made her way to the kitchen, giggling and grinning like an idiot. Obi-Wan waved her into a chair and opted to pour her caf for her, rather than clean up after her when she spilled it all over the kitchen in her bliss.
"I take it you enjoyed your . . . investment," he said when she had finally settled herself enough to drink.
"Oh Force, Obi-Wan, you have got to try it. It's . . it's . ." she waved her hand, her post-orgasmic brain not yet able to provide advanced vocabulary. "It's really good."
He carefully shielded himself behind a newsreader and his tea before answering. "Not to offend Mer, but I hardly think my anatomy would lend itself to your . . . chair."
She blinked at him. "Well you have a rectum, don't you?"
He choked on his tea. Memeris blushed slightly as her brain caught up with her mouth, though the change was not noticeable in her already flushed face.
"No," he said after he finished hacking his airway clear. "I just have my excrement surgically removed every six weeks."
"Well," she fussed with her napkin, trying to close the subject without saying anything worse. "There are a variety of attachments with different functions, so I'm sure there is something you could turn on and . . . stick . . . wherever." Noticeably red now, Memeris gulped down the rest of her scalding caf just to shut herself up.
"A Jedi craves not these things."
She glared across the table. Prude.
"I'm not a Jedi yet."
He shrugged.
"I still think it's a good investment." She frowned at him as he began tapping at the newsreader, intently reading something. "At least I've lowered my stress levels, I'm not out cruising for sex, and I don't have to worry about all the complications." Aeris chose that moment to stir in his crib, a vivid reminder of the long term effects of complications. Memeris winced internally. She hadn't intended that to come out as a close-the-gate-after-the-bantha-escapes lecture.
"So I gathered," he finally replied, almost distractedly, still intent on his newsreader. "In fact, I'm planning on making an investment of my own as a result."
She almost dropped her mug. "Really? You're buying one of your own?"
His eyes met hers, his gaze sharp. A day off and a talk with his therapist had done him a lot of good. His face was clear, his look intent, his clothing sharp. He even had cologne on this morning. Helpless to look away, she stared into his deep, green eyes, wondering how much sexier he'd look after a session in the chair.
"No, not a chair." He turned the newsreader around to reveal an advertisement for a building supply sale. "Soundproofing."
"Soundproofing." She managed to tear her gaze away to look at the reader, then looked back at him hopefully. "For Aeris's room?"
Aeris began to wail. Obi-Wan rose to attend him.
"No."
"So, um, I just wanted, to um, thank you. You know, for um, showing me around and helping me with my inner systems politics. The inner systems usually don't give me such trouble. Because I've really made a study of them"
Memeris forced a laugh, hoping she was heading off a pick up line. "Well, politics can be tricky sometimes." Please don't tell me how much you want to get to know my inner systems.
"So, uh, maybe, if you have some time, you could, uh, teach me about . . . your inner systems."
Ugh. Memeris tried not to shudder. Why do they send the all scandalous ones here? "Um, I'm afraid I really won't have time this term. I'm trying to complete my academics for my trials."
His eyes widened. "Wow, really? I didn't know you were so much older than me." He failed to notice her frown. "Well, maybe after you're knighted, we can um, share the benefits of your experience." He stepped into her personal space, trying to make his obvious intentions more clear. "Or maybe . . um, . . we can share . . our inner systems experience . . um . sooner."
She glanced down at the bulge at his crotch, then back up at his face. The rumor mill, which was usually pretty accurate, had pinned this would be ladies' man as patient zero in a nasty venereal disease outbreak at the Rekean Temple. She began to pity patients one through thirty-seven. For their taste in men.
"Why don't you let me in, so we can talk some more? In your room?"
She glanced down at the placard by the door, suddenly finding her way out. "I'm afraid that's just not possible. My roommates really don't care for company at night."
He leered. "What, they won't want to join the discussion?"
For a moment, Memeris was torn between slapping this padawan who was practically a stranger for suggesting an orgy in her bedroom and wondering whether Obi-Wan would actually go for that. And it's not as if he's never had a girlfriend. You might get some too. Her unfortunate study buddy stepped a little closer and jerked her back to reality.
"How many girls do you have in there?"
Ewwww. "None actually. And besides, one of them would probably just scream all night, so we really wouldn't be able to talk, and the other really needs his sleep."
He grinned hugely. "Really? I like screamers. I mean, um, maybe we could do something else then. Instead of . . . talking. So the other one can, you know, sleep. With us."
Her jaw dropped. "There are no other girls!"
He shrugged. "I heard you. I do boys too."
She made slapping motions to push him out of her personal space. "One is three months old!"
"Oh." He pondered that one for a moment. "Is he the sleeper or the screamer?"
Arrrrrrgh!
"I'm sorry Durk, but I really need to study . . . nuclear fission tonight, so I'm going to have to just break this up. Fission! Fission! Not fusion. No coming together. So just . . . split . . . please."
He nodded. "Fission. Got it." He headed over to the lift, then turned to face her. "So when are you going to get to fusion?"
"Goodnight, Durk." She glared at him, watching to make sure he got on the lift and it in fact had left the floor before she turned back to her door and fumbled with her identity card. The hum from the lift faded as it reached the lower floor and she cursed the monks who had lived in this building before her for not installing handprint locks like everyone else in the civilized world. The lock beeped and as she reached for the knob, she dropped her card. Cursing more vehemently and hoping Durk wasn't coming up the stairs to try again, she bent over to get her card.
And heard the lift hum again.
"Kriff!" she straightened up to get in as fast as possible, only to smack her head on the doorknob. "KRIFF!!!" Rubbing her head, she glanced at the lift dial, then back at the door. It didn't open.
"Why isn't he letting me in?" Even if Obi-Wan hadn't heard her loud cursing, the spike of pain from hitting her head should have at least have been enough to get him to look out the peephole. The hum continued and she looked back to the lift, certain the Durk of her nightmares was on his way up.
The lift was still on the main floor.
She glared at the door.
The hum was coming from inside.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
"That self-righteous, hypocritical, Jedi-craves-not-my-ass, little PERVERT!" Nearly frothing with sexual frustration, Memeris dropped her datapads, sliced the card through the reader and pushed open the door, taking care not to bang it in case the unknowing object of her lust wasn't actually in the main room. She was going to catch that hot little ass of a roommate jerking off and damn it, she was going to get a good look at him doing it to.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Slowly, the door swung open, to reveal the chair, yes, that chair, standing in the middle of the common room, turned toward the couch.
The same couch that Obi-Wan was currently lying on, out cold.
She blinked at the scene. He gets off on 'watching' erotic chairs?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Quiet as a skrit, she crept over to the couch, staring at him. He was dressed in full padawan uniform, sans boots, and sash. His clothing was clean, barely rumpled. One arm lay at his side, the other draped over his nearly flat stomach. His expression was a tired, but utterly peaceful one. Did he just forget to turn it off?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Confused, she turned toward the chair. And everything suddenly became clear.
There, securely strapped to the durable Corellian leather, the program currently set to 'constant, gentle vibration,' sat bright blue baby carrier, holding oddly enough, a warm sleeping baby.
A sleeping baby.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
A sleeping baby who really seemed to enjoy 'constant gentle vibration.'
Stifling a laugh, Memeris checked the controls on the chair before she noticed the small slip of paper with her name on it, placed amidst the dials. She glanced at Obi-Wan curiously before reading the note.
Dear Mer,
My humblest apologies for belittling your chair. I find I now agree with you. It was indeed, a good investment.
--OWK
Memeris managed to get into the closed fresher before she succumbed to howling laughter.
It was definitely a good investment.