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Rating: PG for mild swearing

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi meets the young junior senator from Alderaan, and everyone expects him to be impressed.

Timeline: approximately 6 years before TPM

Note: My Bail Organa is played by the incomparable Naveen Andrews (Kip in "The English Patient"). I cast him in the role long before Jimmy Smits was even a twinkle in Robin Gurland's eye. (I knew I should have written to her!) Of course, you can cast whomever you want in the role.

Special Guest Stars: A couple of beloved JA characters.

Requisite display of obsequiousness: I am just a Jedi Padawan. I own nothing. All that I have belongs to my Master George: my money, my action figures, my dreams and fantasies. In return he gives me wisdom, many lessons in patience and humility, and the best galaxy in the universe to play in. All hail Master George!

Archive: M-A and http://www.wyomingnot.com/rita/rita.html

Feedback: Yes, please! On or off list.

Story order:
Perhaps <--You are here
Maybe
Falling
Back for Seconds - Obi-Wan and Bail
Bailing Bail
Padawan Games
Greener Pastures
Forgiven
Reality Check
Better Than Destiny
A Cross-Cultural Affair
Deconstruction
Reconstruction
Rewoven
Night Visitor
Father Figure
A Model Padawan
Not All Dreams Are Visions
You Don't Bring Me Flowers
Dangerous Fame
Labyrinth
Private Lessons (off-site link)
Owner's Mark
Epicenter
Duty
Penumbra
Nightfall
Batter My Heart

"Hey, Kenobi!"

Obi-Wan looked up from his notepad to see Reeft and Bant approaching him across the gardens.

"Does your master know you're just loafing around here?" Reeft asked.

"Yeah, and do you want to loaf with us?" Bant added. "We're going for a swim."

Obi-Wan leaned back on his arms, squinting up at his friends. "What makes you think I'm loafing?" he inquired, nodding at the pile of books and datapads that surrounded him.

Throwing himself down on the grass alongside Obi-Wan, Reeft scoffed, "All that's just a cover in case your master *does* catch you loafing."

Bant scooped up one of the books and read the cover. "The Socio- Economic Impact of Cloning." She made a face.

Obi-Wan snatched the book back. "I'm on the planning committee for a summit on the ethics of cloning. It so happens I'll be representing the entire Jedi Order."

"Oooo, a committee, how exciting," Reeft teased. "Clearly it's very important if they sent *you* to represent the Order."

"Is that the summit that's being convened by the new Junior Senator from Alderaan?" Bant inquired, her interest piqued.

Reeft perked up as well. "Bail Organa? Hey, not bad, Kenobi. He's supposed to be hot stuff."

"He is hot stuff," Bant corrected, a little dreamily. "For a human, that is."

"Half the padawans in the Temple have his picture up on their bedroom walls." Reeft arched his eyebrows at Bant. "Maybe you're one of them, eh?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Bant huffed, but she turned a deeper shade of salmon. "Prince Bail's aesthetic appeal has been widely documented. I'm merely reporting it."

"Widely documented?" Reeft echoed. "You mean how the news vids keep showing all those people throwing themselves at him every time he makes a public appearance? That guy must really be full of himself.' His attention turned back to Obi-Wan. "Still, they say he throws some pretty wild parties, with all the Young and Beautiful people of Coruscant. Maybe he'll invite you!"

Obi-Wan frowned in disdain. "I doubt I'm trendy enough for those parties."

"Wasn't Master Qui-Gon supposed to be on that assignment?" Bant asked. Apprenticed as she was in Information and Intelligence, Bant usually knew where and what every Jedi in the order had been assigned to.

"He gave it to me," Obi-Wan explained. "He said I was more than capable of handling it. Besides, I like discussing Jedi philosophy more than he does."

"Ah, but the risk he's placing you in - leaving you in the hands of a lascivious Junior Senator," Reeft smirked.

"Believe it or not, Reeft, I have plenty of experience in fending off would-be Jedi groupies. And actually, I probably ought to be going. The meeting starts soon." He began to gather up his things.

"You'll have to tell me all about it!" Bant begged.

"The committee?"

"No, the Senator. What he's like, whether he's really as sexy as they say, whether he looks like he does in the pictures...."

"And whether he would like to go out with a certain Mon Calamari Padawan," Reeft teased. "Sorry, Eiren. Kenobi gets first dibs."

"Believe me, Bant, you can have him." Obi-Wan offered.

"Come on, Obi-Wan. He's cute. You might like him."

"I have no interest in being one of Prince Bail's conquests. Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not interested in any sordid romantic affairs. This assignment is strictly business."

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan strode through the corridors of one of the diplomatic buildings in the Government Sector. He had been cramming cloning ethics issues into his head for two weeks, probably spending more time preparing for mere committee work than was really necessary, but in truth he was nervous about his assignment, and his nervousness had everything to do with the renowned Junior Senator. Reeft had actually hit pretty close to the mark: Qui-Gon was deliberately placing Obi-Wan into Organa's path.

When a Jedi presence had been requested for the summit, Qui-Gon had met with the Prince and come away impressed. To Obi-Wan's chagrin, Qui-Gon had immediately volunteered his Padawan to serve on the planning committee, suggesting that Obi-Wan could learn a lot from the Senator. Obi-Wan had a sinking suspicion that the lessons Qui- Gon had in mind were decidedly not of a Jedi nature, a suspicion confirmed when Qui-Gon had suggested Obi-Wan be open to getting to know the Senator personally.

"I think you'll like him," Qui-Gon had offered. "If he asks you out, I think you should accept."

"And why would he ask me out?"

Folding his arms across his chest and looking guiltily smug in a way that only a Jedi Master up to something could look, Qui-Gon explained, "I spoke very highly of you to him, and he seemed interested."

"Master!" Obi-Wan sputtered indignantly.

"Now, Obi-Wan, remember: you promised me you would start seeing people your age. In the year and a half since you made that promise, you have gone on exactly four dates."

"Surely it was more than that," Obi-Wan mumbled in protest.

"No. I counted."

"So now you're setting me up to date Senator Organa?"

"Apparently, I have to 'set you up,' because you aren't doing it yourself. I'm not requiring you to date the Senator, but really, I think you might like him."

So there it was. Obi-Wan wasn't serving on this committee in order to represent the Jedi view on cloning. He was serving on the committee so that he could scope out a potential date. Damn it, why did he have to date, anyway? Couldn't he remain unattached? Or, well, attached to no one but Qui-Gon? He had accepted the fact that Qui-Gon did not return his feelings (really, he had!), so why did he have to prove it by dating? Obi-Wan didn't even like dating, and he certainly wasn't interested in any media-obsessed, party-going Senator, no matter how handsome and charming he was.

When he had been given the assignment, Obi-Wan had done some special research of his own into this Senator whom Qui-Gon was so sure he would like. From the moment Bail Organa had set foot on Coruscant, he had created quite a stir. Obi-Wan despised Senate politics because the Senators tended to be megalomaniacally obsessed with their images. Organa -- young, good-looking, educated, well- connected, and most importantly, *rich* -- had immediately been dubbed the darling of the Senate. Everyone who was anyone wanted to be seen with him: politicians, business leaders, holovid stars, pop singers, and of course Coruscant's bevy of young, rich, and fashionable idlers. The media loved him because he was always having affairs with beautiful people, going to the trendiest nightclubs, and attending chic parties. The more serious-minded news vids also reported that he was a capable statesman, combining the idealism of a University of Alderaan education with the shrewd skill of the Senate's most cunning politicians. But neither side of the Prince of Alderaan's personality was of a nature to impress Obi-Wan. He would rather attend a Wookiee opera than spend any social time with Organa.

But he was the Padawan. He couldn't exactly refuse the assignment. So here he was, heading toward the committee meeting, and all he could do was carry out his mission to the best of his ability, hopefully so loaded down with obscure ethical conundrums that he would bore the Senator into a stupor.

At last he arrived at the assigned meeting room. He entered to find a dozen or so beings gathered around the table. A young man quickly approached him, dressed in elegant but not too ostentatious robes in shades of sapphire, and Obi-Wan was momentarily lost in a vision of shining dark eyes, a cascade of black curls, and white teeth flashing in a wide smile. "You must be Obi-Wan Kenobi," the vision greeted him in a soft tenor voice. To Obi-Wan's complete astonishment, the Senator tucked his hands into his sleeves and bowed deeply in perfect Jedi fashion. He straightened and flashed Obi-Wan another dazzling smile. "Welcome. I am Bail Organa."

Obi-Wan returned the unexpected bow in an automatic reflex. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Senator."

"And I have been very eager to meet you," the Prince returned. "Your master spoke very highly of you."

/So I heard,/ Obi-Wan thought sardonically.

"We are honored to have you serve with us on the planning committee. We will certainly benefit from your wisdom and insight."

Obi-Wan couldn't believe the man had actually said something so transparently fawning, yet he detected no insincerity in the comment. Could Organa actually feel honored to have a mere Padawan on his committee?

The Prince led him around the room, making introductions. Obi-Wan's fellow committee members were a cross section of scientists, business people, lawyers, and scholars, and they radiated enough hostility toward one another to give Obi-Wan a major headache. But the Prince moved among them easily, acknowledging one, complimenting another, inquiring after the family of a third. He was the picture of gracious hospitality, and his ability to put people at ease rivaled even Qui-Gon's. Despite his predilection not to like the man, Obi- Wan had to admit he was impressed. The Senator was excruciatingly formal and correct in all his behavior. None of the alleged wilder aspects of his personality seemed to interfere with the execution of his position and rank as Junior Senator of Alderaan and Royal Prince of the House of Organa. If Obi-Wan hadn't heard so much about his reputation, he would have thought Organa to be quite proper indeed. Obi-Wan was nothing if not a stickler for good manners, and Organa handled etiquette with all the grace and poise of a Jedi wielding a lightsaber. Maybe that was what people meant when they described him as charming. He was a consummate diplomat, while never sliding into arrogance. Obi-Wan hoped that this might have been what Qui-Gon had in mind when he said he could learn something from the Senator.

A few more committee members arrived, and the meeting began. Obi-Wan found himself seated to the Senator's right. Perhaps Organa meant to honor him as a Jedi. Perhaps he wanted to shore up his own credibility by keeping the Jedi near him. Surely it wouldn't be because Organa wanted to scope him out. But there was no point in guessing, and despite any of those reasons, Obi-Wan did not see fit to challenge the seating arrangements.

Organa ran the meeting well, but it wasn't very exciting. They discussed what kinds of issues the summit ought to address, who should be called upon to speak, what role if any was proper for corporate interests to play, how to deal with voices of protest. Obi- Wan barely had to pay attention in order to keep up with the proceedings. He had plenty of attention left over to focus on the Prince.

Obi-Wan wouldn't call him classically handsome. His eyes were maybe a little too close together, and his nose was rather large, although perhaps some would call it aquiline. Actually, Obi-Wan rather liked imperfect noses. He thought Qui-Gon's broken nose was perhaps the most handsome one he had ever seen. But Bail Organa bore no resemblance whatsoever to Qui-Gon. He was around Obi-Wan's height, with a dark complexion. Curly hair, longish, but not nearly as long as Qui-Gon's. He had the soft, indolent appearance of someone accustomed to a luxurious life, not lean and hard like a Jedi Master. But Obi-Wan couldn't exactly fault him for being a Senator rather than a Jedi. His clothes were tasteful and definitely expensive, but what did that mean? Obi-Wan knew many people chose their attire with an eye toward how it would impress others, but since as a Jedi he never had to worry about picking clothing for himself, he frequently misunderstood the messages others sent through their dress. He didn't know if the Prince's clothes were meant to convey luxury, wealth, power, or simply reflected the man's individual taste.

Obi-Wan's mind kept drifting during the meeting, and he would come out of it to realize he was staring at the Prince, even when someone else was talking. /Snap out of it, Kenobi,/ he rebuked himself. It must be the power of suggestion that kept him focused on the Prince. Everyone seemed to think he would find the man attractive. Why? Why did he have to find anyone attractive? Why did his friends and his master think they knew whom he would like - and that it would be this man, of all people?

His preoccupation with the Senator made Obi-Wan increasingly uncomfortable, and when the meeting finally ended, he was ready to flee for his life, but the Senator caught his eye, and Obi-Wan was cornered. "Before you leave, Jedi Kenobi, might I have a word with you?"

"Before you leave, Jedi Kenobi, might I have a word with you?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan found himself agreeing automatically. He stood to the side, once more watching the Prince as he finished his final round of goodbyes to the other members of the committee.

At last Organa tore himself away from the others and approached Obi- Wan, taking his elbow to lead him out into the hallway. Obi-Wan fought the urge to pull back from the touch, and to his relief, the Senator let go of him once they were out of the room.

"I was wondering if you would join me for dinner?" Organa asked.

/Here we go./ But before he could refuse, the Senator continued, "I greatly appreciated what you had to say in the meeting, and I want to hear more of the Jedi point of view. I must confess that I'm not sure what I believe about all these cloning advancements, and so many of the perspectives out there are either mired in their own self- interests, like the businesses and research scientists, or lost in theoretical debates that have little to do with the real world, like the academics." He gave Obi-Wan a piercing glance. "The Jedi alone manage to combine idealism with practicality. I like that, and I am eager to learn more."

This wasn't quite what Obi-Wan had been anticipating. How was he supposed to refuse? "I really need to be getting back to the Temple...."

To his annoyance, the Prince laughed. "What, now? It's dinnertime. Don't the Jedi eat?" He noticed Obi-Wan's irritation and composed himself, but his dark eyes still sparkled with mirth. "I'm sorry, I mean no disrespect, but surely you don't need to get back right away. Personally I'm starved. Meetings always make me hungry. I promise I won't keep you long."

Damn! Obi-Wan swore at himself. The Prince raised one eyebrow in entreaty, a half-smile on his lips, as if he already knew he would win. Charming, indeed. Worse, Obi-Wan found himself to be not as immune to it as he would wish. Damn, damn, damn! "All right. I suppose I don't have to get back right away."

They left the building in the Prince's personal shuttle and headed to Balikk's, a popular Senatorial hangout, and one of the fancier restaurants on Coruscant. His Jedi frugality heartily disapproved, but a deeper part of him was curious and eager to dine at the famed establishment. Even so, he didn't really want to know how much the meal would cost. As it turned out, he was spared knowing, since the menu didn't carry prices. /That high, eh?/ he thought with disdain.

Organa noticed his unconscious frown and said, "I'm sorry, don't you like Balikk's? I should have asked."

"No, it's fine," Obi-Wan assured him. He didn't want to admit he had never been here before, although surely that must be obvious. What business would a mere Padawan ever have to go to Balikk's?

"Next time, you shall pick the restaurant."

As if there would be a next time. Anyway, Obi-Wan would be far too intimidated to recommend a restaurant to the Prince. The places he frequented tended to be the kind where you ate with your hands.

"In the meantime," the Prince continued, "may I recommend the braised nerf? It's not as good as on Alderaan, of course, but they do a credit to the dish here."

It didn't take much encouragement for Obi-Wan to indulge himself in a full meal, complete with appetizer, soup, and dessert, not to mention dinner drinks. This might not exactly be a date, but he could get the most out of it, and the food, despite the Prince's qualification, was some of the finest Obi-Wan had ever tasted.

During dinner, they discussed the entire range of cloning issues, and Obi-Wan was amazed that anyone could find ethics so intriguing. Despite his self-deprecation, the Senator proved to be quite knowledgeable, and his questions were insightful and thought- provoking. Obi-Wan was relieved that their conversation had remained so professional, and toward the end of the meal he was finally starting to really relax when the Prince said, "I can't tell you how glad I am to have you serving on the committee. I have always admired the Jedi, but I've never had the chance to work with one before." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Obi-Wan almost groaned out loud. /This is when he asks if he can touch my lightsaber,/ a request that took on a lascivious connotation given the Prince's reputation as a rather active lover.

The Prince rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him, as if settling in. "I remember reading once about a Jedi Master named Tonin, who argued that the Jedi studied the arts of war too much for an order that claimed to be dedicated to peace. This sparked a great debate among the Jedi about whether they are warriors or keepers of peace, and whether or not there is an inherent contradiction in trying to be both." The Senator surveyed Obi-Wan with an expression of innocent interest. "What do you think?"

What did he think? He thought that if Organa was trying to impress him with his Jedi savvy, he had gone to great lengths to do so. Master Tonin had lived 400 years ago. Even among the Jedi, her argument was barely remembered as anything more than an obscure bit of Jedi philosophy. Where had Senator Organa ever heard of her? Still, he posed an interesting question, interesting enough for Obi- Wan not to just blow it off. He swallowed the last few bites on his plate while he considered his response.

"We are keepers of peace," he finally said, "as indicated by the lightsaber as our weapon of choice. It is a defensive weapon, as are all our combat skills. But we are warriors as well. There are evils in the galaxy that may only be stopped by force. We have to be combat ready, but we use our skills only in the service of peace, never in acts of aggression."

"But one might say that any weapon, even a defensive one, is itself aggressive. After all, a lightsaber can be used to kill. Surely you have used yours that way."

"Yes, but only when necessary."

"And yet it could be argued that whenever you take a weapon in your hands, you immediately start looking for a target."

Obi-Wan bristled. "Are you implying that the Jedi are overly aggressive?"

Bail considered for a moment before answering. "No. I have great faith in the Jedi, and I am sure they do not rush into battle. Yet I can't help wondering if sometimes peaceful methods are overlooked when weapons can settle a dispute so much more quickly."

Obi-Wan suppressed his defensive reaction and forced himself to consider the Senator's words. Actually, he sounded a lot like a Jedi. "You have a point," Obi-Wan at last conceded. "That is why we always meditate on our actions after each mission, to try to discern whether we acted in haste, and whether we truly considered all our options."

"Of course." The Prince appeared somewhat abashed, as much because the Jedi had conceded his point as because he had challenged him in the first place. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

"Not at all," Obi-Wan protested, and he meant it. "Actually, I don't meet many people who understand the Jedi so well."

Bail laughed. "I would hardly say that I understand the Jedi. But I do admire your philosophy, and I have studied the subject some. It's not the same as talking with a real Jedi, though." Again he paused, emboldened, and gave Obi-Wan an almost saucy grin. "May I ask you another question?"

Nervous, but also intrigued, Obi-Wan replied, "By all means."

"I know that the Jedi are called upon in many different capacities: as diplomats, mediators, military strategists, bodyguards, and countless others. What is your favorite kind of mission?"

A loaded question if he'd ever heard one. Was the Senator fishing for a particular response? Obi-Wan opted to give the standard answer. "Nothing is more satisfying than seeing a conflict resolved peacefully."

Bail's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "But that is not your favorite kind of mission," he observed.

"No," Obi-Wan admitted, embarrassed by the Senator's perceptiveness. "My Master is an excellent diplomat and mediator, but he is far better at it than I am. I prefer...action. That's not to say I prefer battle to mediation, but I like to use my physical abilities."

This wasn't sounding too good in light of the Prince's previous question, but Bail did not chide him for it. "Why?" he simply asked.

"I suppose I like to use my body more than my mind." Bail gave him a sly grin, and Obi-Wan immediately knew he had expressed himself poorly. "I mean, in negotiation we don't really use our bodies. It's all talk, mental exertion, detachment from the body. But in action, everything is harmonized, body and mind together functioning in unison. That's when I feel most fully engaged, in balance." Obi- Wan knew what he was trying to say, but feared he still wasn't getting his point across. It made him sound more like a warrior than a peacekeeper. Obi-Wan didn't approve of violence, but he did like action. Embarrassed, he added, "Anyway, aren't you the one who said meetings always make you hungry? I find meetings to be hard on the backside."

"True enough," the Prince conceded with a chuckle. "And an excellent answer. So diplomatic missions are your least favorite, then?"

"Not necessarily. I enjoy diplomatic missions because I like watching my Master work." Boy, did he ever, but that wasn't the point. "My least favorite missions are the ones where the Jedi are called upon as a token presence, whether to inflate someone's sense of self-importance or to appease the Republic when we really aren't wanted. I hate being treated like an ornament or some kind of rubber- stamp seal of endorsement."

"Like serving on an ethics committee?"

Obi-Wan blushed. "I hope I was not invited to participate solely as a token presence."

"You were not, as far as I'm concerned. But surely you must realize, even after only one meeting, that there are those who resent your presence."

Obi-Wan certainly had noticed that almost everyone had been hostile to him, except the Prince. "Yes, but that is nothing new. As long as I have your approval to participate as a full member and to speak freely, then I will not feel my presence is being exploited."

"I do want your full participation. I want it very much. Anything less would defeat my purpose in seeking Jedi involvement in the first place."

Obi-Wan detected a hint of defensiveness in the Prince, though he hid it well. It seemed the man was sincere in his interest after all. Wanting to prove his good will, Obi-Wan switched the subject, turning the focus onto the Prince. "And what about you? Why politics?"

With a wry grin, Bail offered, "Believe it or not, I see politics as a sort of secular version of what the Jedi are about, keeping the peace and building justice. Though I daresay there are more bad politicians than bad Jedi. But at its best, politics is about resolving disputes peacefully and working to build a better society."

"Is that what it's about?" Obi-Wan asked, skeptically. "I thought politics was about protecting one's own interests and getting as much power as possible."

Bail fell silent, and Obi-Wan caught a surprising pulse of regret from him. "Yes, that does seem to be what it boils down to, doesn't it? I knew the real world wouldn't be ideal. That is, I thought I knew it. But when I came to Coruscant, I was shocked to find how self-serving everyone was. It's been a rather painful disillusionment. I have found good people here, but most of them are...somewhat shallow. Good in their own way, I suppose, but...not quite what I had hoped for."

Could it really be? That the Prince was one of the rarest of creatures, an idealistic politician? Most of the Senators in Obi- Wan's acquaintance had long ago forgotten that they were supposed to be public servants. Perhaps Bail Organa was someone worth getting to know, after all. As much to apologize for his prejudice as to express sympathy, Obi-Wan offered, "I'm sorry."

Rallying himself, Bail dismissed, "Well, what's to be done about it? Anyway, idealism aside, the truth is I just like people, even the bad ones. Since politics will always be about dealing with people, I am content enough. True, all the meetings can be rather hard on the body, but some would say that the key to a healthy body is an active mind."

"And others might say the key to a healthy mind is an active body."

Bail leaned back in his chair, laughing, and Obi-Wan unconsciously echoed the delighted sound. "So here we are, flip sides of the same coin." He studied Obi-Wan for a moment, his smiling eyes appraising him. Abruptly he leaned across the table, gesturing to Obi-Wan's braid with an elegant hand. "Your Padawan braid - how long have you been growing it?"

"Six years."

The Prince was silent for a moment, and Obi-Wan realized he was trying to guess his age. "I'm nineteen," he supplied with a wry grin. "Almost twenty."

Bail ducked his head, embarrassed. "That obvious, eh?"

"You could have just asked."

"My father taught me it is impolite to ask someone's age."

"So you resort to subterfuge. Well, the Jedi are more straightforward. How old are you?"

"Twenty-one. How much longer until you become a knight?"

"About five years, give or take."

Bail clucked his tongue. "Such a slow learner. I finished my formal schooling six months ago, and was immediately appointed Junior Senator."

"It takes far more skill to be a Jedi than a Senator."

The Prince gaped at him in a parody of offense. "Are you slighting my education? I'll have you know that the University of Alderaan is one of the finest institutions of higher learning in the galaxy, and that includes the Jedi Temple. In fact a number of Jedi have been associated with the University over the years, both as teachers and as students."

"What did you study as part of your...extensive training?"

"Political science, of course, with a minor in philosophy. I want to be a benevolent dictator. I mean, senator." He winked.

"So you've always wanted to be a politician," Obi-Wan surmised, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, pretending to scrutinize the Prince. "Sounds suspicious to me."

"I daresay you've always wanted to be a Jedi. I'm no more sinister than you. As I said, flip sides of the same coin. Now I have another question to ask you. I know that each Jedi makes his or her own lightsaber. Tell me, what color is your blade?"

"It is blue."

"For peace, is it not?" A nod in reply. "Why peace?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Because when I am one with the Force, I am at peace. It is a reminder for me always to be centered in the unifying Force, even in battle."

Bail considered him for a moment, appeared about to make a pert comment, then changed his mind. "It suits you," he said simply.

With a roguish grin, Obi-Wan asked, "And if you were a Jedi, what color would you pick?"

"Well, blue is my favorite color," Bail drawled. "On the other hand, I like the idea of a red saber, nice and flashy and rather naughty. But I know it's not politically correct. Maybe...chartreuse?"

"Chartreuse! I don't even know what that is!"

"Or silver. The perfect color for accessorizing; it would match any outfit. Then again, maybe that's why the Jedi wear brown, so they won't clash with their sabers."

Obi-Wan giggled. If he weren't enjoying himself so much, he would be horrified. "Clearly you are no Jedi. So?" he asked expectantly.

"So, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask to see my lightsaber now? That's what all this was about, wasn't it?"

"Of course I'm dying to, but I know how much you Jedi hate it." Bail leaned forward across the table again, gesturing conspiratorially to Obi-Wan. "I'll tell you what. Let's make a deal. I will never ask to see your lightsaber so long as you promise never to offer me a bribe."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Agreed."

Satisfied, Bail leaned back, surveying the empty plates on their table. "Well, I think we are finished here. Would you like to come back to my apartment for a drink?"

The invitation hit Obi-Wan like a splash of cold water. So this whole conversation had been a seduction? Although he had expected it from the beginning of the evening, now that it was actually here, he felt somehow betrayed.

Obi-Wan's disapproval clearly showed on his face, as Bail immediately sobered. He seemed to know how Obi-Wan had taken his invitation. "There now, I've offended you, though that was certainly not my intention. I merely have been enjoying our conversation, and I thought we could continue it."

Struggling to rein in his disappointment, Obi-Wan asked, "Was that your purpose in inviting me to dinner?"

"What, to get you to come back to my apartment? No."

Obi-Wan gave him a skeptical frown. "I'm not sure I believe you. You have a subtle way of asking for what you really want."

"And what did you think my true intention was?"

"I wonder if your interest in me is not entirely professional."

This brought a slow smile to Bail's lips. "Perhaps not *entirely.* And so what? You seemed to have been enjoying yourself here. Do you really find it so offensive that I should have any other interest in you?"

Obi-Wan hadn't quite thought of it that way. If he was really honest with himself, he had to admit that he had indeed been enjoying himself. And he had promised Qui-Gon he would see other people. It was nice to talk with someone who wasn't a Jedi - or a Jedi groupie. Or at least someone who was subtle about it. Bail Organa was not quite the rake Obi-Wan had though he would be, and Obi-Wan could not fault his manners. "That depends," he finally admitted.

"On what?"

Cryptically, Obi-Wan replied, "On a great many variables."

Bail's face lit up with another bright smile. "Damn, you're evasive! And you claim not to be skilled in diplomacy. Very well, I won't press the point. I suppose, then, you won't be joining me for a drink?"

Obi-Wan hesitated for several heartbeats before answering, "No."

Bail was clearly disappointed, but he accepted the refusal with grace. "Very well. I know you are busy and must return to the Temple. But I have enjoyed your company. I hope you won't fault me for that."

Obi-Wan grinned despite himself. "I won't count it among your lesser qualities."

"Then perhaps I can hope that next time you might say yes?"

Again that assumption that there would be a next time. Of course, as a member of the committee, Obi-Wan would be seeing the Prince again, but that didn't mean he had to go out with him. Then again, there was no reason why he should not. Who could say what might happen? But it wouldn't do to let Organa get too cocky. With the tiniest smile, Obi-Wan offered him an enigmatic, "Perhaps."