[ 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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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. ]
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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. ]