[ Off comes the cloak - heavy-looking, a bright yellow, speaks of rank and governance and wealth - and up goes the eyebrow in the vendor's direction, the poor man straightening up a little in response, visibly relieved. Obi-Wan's gaze doesn't waver much as he notes these details, adding them carefully to what he's managed to find out about this man by speaking to others. The picture is quite coherent already, he thinks.
Politicians are rarely so obvious about their own dominance but then again, he's not exactly a politician. A Legislator, they say. A sort of advisor, possibly, the man who whispers in the ears of law makers. Obi-Wan nods at his words - already advising him, like it's all instinctual, he must be good at his job - and gives him a very slight smile, mostly just a twitch of his lips. ]
Can be, you say. [ His voice doesn't sharpen, though his gaze does, just a fraction. He runs his fingers over his beard. ] Meaning, there are exceptions. I wonder if this is one of them.
[ He thinks about this man, all obvious power, dominance, need for control, and it really doesn't make him any less worried for Anakin, Anakin who nearly... well, he doesn't know, does he. He wasn't there. Just as he hasn't been here, either, not until now and this man clearly knows how to bury his claws deeply and efficiently. ]
[ He's observant. Sarica is almost impressed with the subtlety with which the stranger just looks him over, the stroking of his beard the only obvious show of consideration - the rest is glances, eyes following movement, seeing patterns, adding and subtracting. Sarica has never been a soldier, he has no use on the battlefield as Anakin has pointed out more than once already, but he knows a strong opponent when he sees one.
What the other man sees, he doesn't wonder, however. Certainly, Sarica has no sword, but he owns the word before it leaves his mouth, long after as well. Because Sarica doesn't let go of things easily.
Another, longer sip of his tea and Sarica looks at the other man over the rim of his cup. He purposefully doesn't enunciate the words in any general sense, they're aimed specifically at this man and no one else. ]
It depends on who you are.
[ A slight pause, mostly rhetorical. The smile returns. ]
[ He raises both eyebrows. At least, they're progressed relatively fast past the word games - Obi-Wan has the patience for them, certainly, but right now he's starting to get a very persistent urge to find Anakin to make certain he's all right. That he hasn't been thrown any further off balance. Keeping his sense of urgency wholly off his face and out of his voice, he finally just says: ]
My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
[ He could have refused to answer, let the man feel his own powerlessness inherent to their relation but he can't start out that way with someone Anakin's taken a shine to. He remembers vividly criticizing Palpatine's actions in the Senate even the slightest bit and the resultant reaction that would inevitably follow - even a hint of discourtesy would've been enough to trigger his temper. Yes, Anakin had been quite enamoured with the Sith Lord ruling the galaxy and playing them all like puppets.
Obi-Wan pushes the thought aside - either for later or to forget, depending - and adds: ]
It might be a good sign if you haven't heard of me. Anakin's here to take a break, after all, and I hope that's exactly what he's been doing.
If Kenobi, as he introduces himself, is here to inquire about Anakin's leave, Sarica is in the company of yet another jedi and the thought makes his stomach knot. He has known from the beginning that Anakin Skywalker is for all intents and purposes still attached to the Order, that they expect a date for his return as Sarica knows the exact date and time of day when Anakin came to him in the Senate and they got re-acquainted, desperately and fast. ]
Charmed.
[ He hasn't mentioned you, it means.
Still, the realization makes him fall quiet and he just looks at the man, eyes intense and hard, fingers releasing the cup so it clinks against the wooden tabletop. Tilt, tip, but it doesn't fall. Sarica gestures with one hand, doesn't introduce himself, because he knows the man has already got that information. ]
You should ask him, when we get back to the villa. [ It's not a question or a polite inquiry. It's expectation. You'll come, it means. ] My impression is no doubt correct, but Anakin must answer for himself. I'm not much of a gossiper.
[ Getting to his feet, he picks up his cloak, folding it over one arm and then, gestures for the vendor to procure him a bag of the tea they were drinking, waiting for Kenobi to follow his example. Come, it means. With me. ]
[ Obi-Wan inclines his head slightly in response to Sarica's initial statement (charmed, he thinks, sounds a bit at odds with the man's actual state of mind but who's he to get critical) and empties his tea cup, his breathing calming a little at the warm, rounded taste. Such a pleasant brand; he ought to get himself a bag before he returns back to Coruscant. Whenever that might be - he doesn't exactly have a time limit. Take whatever time you need, he'd been told by the Council. To settle things.
Whatever that means in this context.
Sarica, meanwhile, has had enough passive conversation, it seems. Obi-Wan watches him with a bemused expression as the man gets to his feet and folds his cloak over his arm, shooting off a very indirect invitation to his villa, indirect but certainly presumptuous. Goes with the rest of him, if nothing else.
Setting down his tea cup gently, almost soundlessly, Obi-Wan gets to his feet as well and leaves a handful of coins for the vendor. He follows the other man out of the shadows and into the bright sunlight beyond the stall. ]
You haven't told me who you are.
[ He glances sideways at Sarica as they head down the dusty road past merchants and people going about their daily chores. ]
I'm aware of your name and title but that's not much to go by.
[ Who Sarica is. Well, Kenobi sure knows how to bring in the big guns. Befits a man with such huge hands. Sarica hmm's slightly, a low throaty sound, amused, as he turns a corner and moves down a sidestreet leading to the southern-most part of the city. Away from the huge Senate building, the temples... Away from everything that helps shape him. Who you are, Kenobi wants to know. Sarica turns his head and looks at him, expecting people to move aside for him before his lack of attention to the road gets him run down. His eyes are interested, but also scornful. He's certain that if the man has been asking for Anakin, some tidbits of Sarica's less than intimate life has snuck into the gossip harvest as well.
He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. When he speaks, it's in an even, neutral tone that doesn't really fit the words he chooses. ]
I'm someone who makes everyone here wonder what use I have of you, what you need me for and whether we're going to fuck as part of that exchange.
[ As if to support that claim, in the vendors and booths that they pass, people are watching them with only scarce discretion, some even craning their necks to stare after the man in the weird clothing (another one of those) and their less than favourite legislator move side by side down towards the more lived-in neighbourhoods ahead. Sarica notices they're almost the same height.
They've all gotten used to Anakin now, in the Capital, towering over him, not knowing what to make of that.
[ Well, it's an answer. A... very honest answer, if there's any truth in it and Obi-Wan senses that there is. The man isn't the least bit embarrassed to tell him that he uses his body as a means of transaction, that he uses other people in whichever way he finds most rewarding - though there's something about his general look, about the scornful glint in his eyes that speaks of hidden depths, too, and things left purposefully unsaid.
Chuckling, Obi-Wan gives him a smile, less restricted this time. ]
I've known several people who could be described a little like that.
[ He looks away, gaze gliding over their surroundings, taking in the details, the way they're being watched. His cloak, he realises, is definitely making them more conspicuous and he shrugs it off carefully, mirroring Sarica and folding it over his arm. His tunic and trousers don't stand out much whatsoever and the lightsaber by his hip, well. In this place, unless Anakin's been waving his around (and he realises the chances of that are actually quite depressingly high), it shouldn't draw much attention by itself. ]
The workings of the world will always make themselves known, regardless of what I admit to or not, so why bother lying?
[ As they move down the street, away from the city center and out into the more habitable quarters, apartment buildings and neighbourhoods comprised of villas that are gradually increasing in size, the further out they get, their audience grows sparser and Sarica doesn't bemoan the loss of eyes staring them down. Kenobi shrugs out of his cloak as well, so they're both walking, side by side, without conspicuous amounts of fabric tugged around their shoulders. At this point, Juila will no doubt have heard she is to expect an extra person for dinner, she is not only a regular at the foot of the rumour mill, she runs the whole thing. Out of all his servants, she is by all means the most useful, although he'd miss Erene's peaduck soup if she were to quit.
But knowledge bests peaduck, such is the lesson here.
Glancing at Kenobi, approximately same height as him, bigger hands, no doubt a bigger sense of self all-around, Sarica smiles slowly, shaking his head once. He doesn't say that he never lies, that in itself would be quite the lie, wouldn't it, but about these matters? Whom he sleeps with, when, how, why... If his network doesn't know these things, it's a sure sign something is wrong.
He turns them right at the next corner, avoiding a horse-driven wagon with habitual ease. ]
[ Obi-Wan never stops taking in their surroundings, watching the neighbourhood change as they drift further out towards the outskirts. The houses certainly grow bigger - and it strikes him, then, that a man as obviously influential as Sarica would also know how to gather enough resources to live his life comfortably. Hm. Anakin certainly knows how to pick them, doesn't he. He thinks Sarica's words over for a moment, frowning slightly in thought. ]
There are those who believe that the gain is worth the trouble, my friend.
[ He looks up at the sky - blue, blue, like water and kyber-infused light, like Anakin's eyes, too - and his shoulders tense ever so slightly, memories pushing at him, fighting for dominance. The war, an elaborate game cooked up by Palpatine. The Senate - so many, many beings, incapable of seeing through his lies or, ultimately, uncaring about them. The Council, blind to the danger they accepted by sending Anakin into Palpatine's claws, week after week, year after year.
And the way they nearly lost everything.
Obi-Wan nearly lost everything.
So he adds, into the comfortable silence between them: ]
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no subject
Politicians are rarely so obvious about their own dominance but then again, he's not exactly a politician. A Legislator, they say. A sort of advisor, possibly, the man who whispers in the ears of law makers. Obi-Wan nods at his words - already advising him, like it's all instinctual, he must be good at his job - and gives him a very slight smile, mostly just a twitch of his lips. ]
Can be, you say. [ His voice doesn't sharpen, though his gaze does, just a fraction. He runs his fingers over his beard. ] Meaning, there are exceptions. I wonder if this is one of them.
[ He thinks about this man, all obvious power, dominance, need for control, and it really doesn't make him any less worried for Anakin, Anakin who nearly... well, he doesn't know, does he. He wasn't there. Just as he hasn't been here, either, not until now and this man clearly knows how to bury his claws deeply and efficiently. ]
no subject
What the other man sees, he doesn't wonder, however. Certainly, Sarica has no sword, but he owns the word before it leaves his mouth, long after as well. Because Sarica doesn't let go of things easily.
Another, longer sip of his tea and Sarica looks at the other man over the rim of his cup. He purposefully doesn't enunciate the words in any general sense, they're aimed specifically at this man and no one else. ]
It depends on who you are.
[ A slight pause, mostly rhetorical. The smile returns. ]
Which begs the question. Who are you, my friend?
no subject
My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.
[ He could have refused to answer, let the man feel his own powerlessness inherent to their relation but he can't start out that way with someone Anakin's taken a shine to. He remembers vividly criticizing Palpatine's actions in the Senate even the slightest bit and the resultant reaction that would inevitably follow - even a hint of discourtesy would've been enough to trigger his temper. Yes, Anakin had been quite enamoured with the Sith Lord ruling the galaxy and playing them all like puppets.
Obi-Wan pushes the thought aside - either for later or to forget, depending - and adds: ]
It might be a good sign if you haven't heard of me. Anakin's here to take a break, after all, and I hope that's exactly what he's been doing.
no subject
If Kenobi, as he introduces himself, is here to inquire about Anakin's leave, Sarica is in the company of yet another jedi and the thought makes his stomach knot. He has known from the beginning that Anakin Skywalker is for all intents and purposes still attached to the Order, that they expect a date for his return as Sarica knows the exact date and time of day when Anakin came to him in the Senate and they got re-acquainted, desperately and fast. ]
Charmed.
[ He hasn't mentioned you, it means.
Still, the realization makes him fall quiet and he just looks at the man, eyes intense and hard, fingers releasing the cup so it clinks against the wooden tabletop. Tilt, tip, but it doesn't fall. Sarica gestures with one hand, doesn't introduce himself, because he knows the man has already got that information. ]
You should ask him, when we get back to the villa. [ It's not a question or a polite inquiry. It's expectation. You'll come, it means. ] My impression is no doubt correct, but Anakin must answer for himself. I'm not much of a gossiper.
[ Getting to his feet, he picks up his cloak, folding it over one arm and then, gestures for the vendor to procure him a bag of the tea they were drinking, waiting for Kenobi to follow his example. Come, it means. With me. ]
no subject
Whatever that means in this context.
Sarica, meanwhile, has had enough passive conversation, it seems. Obi-Wan watches him with a bemused expression as the man gets to his feet and folds his cloak over his arm, shooting off a very indirect invitation to his villa, indirect but certainly presumptuous. Goes with the rest of him, if nothing else.
Setting down his tea cup gently, almost soundlessly, Obi-Wan gets to his feet as well and leaves a handful of coins for the vendor. He follows the other man out of the shadows and into the bright sunlight beyond the stall. ]
You haven't told me who you are.
[ He glances sideways at Sarica as they head down the dusty road past merchants and people going about their daily chores. ]
I'm aware of your name and title but that's not much to go by.
no subject
He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. When he speaks, it's in an even, neutral tone that doesn't really fit the words he chooses. ]
I'm someone who makes everyone here wonder what use I have of you, what you need me for and whether we're going to fuck as part of that exchange.
[ As if to support that claim, in the vendors and booths that they pass, people are watching them with only scarce discretion, some even craning their necks to stare after the man in the weird clothing (another one of those) and their less than favourite legislator move side by side down towards the more lived-in neighbourhoods ahead. Sarica notices they're almost the same height.
They've all gotten used to Anakin now, in the Capital, towering over him, not knowing what to make of that.
Does Kenobi? Know? He wonders. ]
no subject
Chuckling, Obi-Wan gives him a smile, less restricted this time. ]
I've known several people who could be described a little like that.
[ He looks away, gaze gliding over their surroundings, taking in the details, the way they're being watched. His cloak, he realises, is definitely making them more conspicuous and he shrugs it off carefully, mirroring Sarica and folding it over his arm. His tunic and trousers don't stand out much whatsoever and the lightsaber by his hip, well. In this place, unless Anakin's been waving his around (and he realises the chances of that are actually quite depressingly high), it shouldn't draw much attention by itself. ]
Not too many who'd so readily admit to it.
no subject
[ As they move down the street, away from the city center and out into the more habitable quarters, apartment buildings and neighbourhoods comprised of villas that are gradually increasing in size, the further out they get, their audience grows sparser and Sarica doesn't bemoan the loss of eyes staring them down. Kenobi shrugs out of his cloak as well, so they're both walking, side by side, without conspicuous amounts of fabric tugged around their shoulders. At this point, Juila will no doubt have heard she is to expect an extra person for dinner, she is not only a regular at the foot of the rumour mill, she runs the whole thing. Out of all his servants, she is by all means the most useful, although he'd miss Erene's peaduck soup if she were to quit.
But knowledge bests peaduck, such is the lesson here.
Glancing at Kenobi, approximately same height as him, bigger hands, no doubt a bigger sense of self all-around, Sarica smiles slowly, shaking his head once. He doesn't say that he never lies, that in itself would be quite the lie, wouldn't it, but about these matters? Whom he sleeps with, when, how, why... If his network doesn't know these things, it's a sure sign something is wrong.
He turns them right at the next corner, avoiding a horse-driven wagon with habitual ease. ]
No, too much trouble.
no subject
There are those who believe that the gain is worth the trouble, my friend.
[ He looks up at the sky - blue, blue, like water and kyber-infused light, like Anakin's eyes, too - and his shoulders tense ever so slightly, memories pushing at him, fighting for dominance. The war, an elaborate game cooked up by Palpatine. The Senate - so many, many beings, incapable of seeing through his lies or, ultimately, uncaring about them. The Council, blind to the danger they accepted by sending Anakin into Palpatine's claws, week after week, year after year.
And the way they nearly lost everything.
Obi-Wan nearly lost everything.
So he adds, into the comfortable silence between them: ]
I'm glad you have found other ways.
[ Gladder, even than anyone might understand. ]