Chapter Text
Checking his ‘disguise’ in the mirror one more time Obi-wan couldn’t help but fidget with the short jacket over the boat neck collared shirt. The sleeves of both were thankfully long, long enough to cover old scars that he preferred going unnoticed, and the colors were mild. At least… mild for something that Quinlan had chosen. The jacket was a deep night sky blue and the shirt was a warm orange-beige. Apparently it made his blue eyes ‘pop’ more, whatever that meant. It also helped to highlight his reddish hair and the faint freckles dusting his face. The dark brown trousers weren’t loose, but they weren’t form fitting either. Not like his leggings.
Somehow the colors felt comforting to him, although he couldn’t say exactly why. The meaning of them in Mandalorian culture did not escape him, however.
Blue for reliability, although this dark a shade it was closer to integrity, or perhaps honesty. Orange was lust for life but pale like this… it was perseverance. While the dark brown of his pants represented valor.
He wondered if Quinlan had known or if the force had guided his hand…
Turning away from the mirror he slid a blade into the top of his boot and another into the nearly invisible sheath at his wrist that Quin had bought him for his seventeenth birthday.
He made certain that his Master never found out about it. Qui-gon believed that the Force would provide but in his personal experience it always paid to be prepared.
Once he had everything he would need, including his ident stored in a secret pocket just in case, he left the fresher and stood there awkwardly.
“Well?” He asked his friend, who was wearing a similar outfit but with a black vest and dark gold, three-quarter sleeve, shirt instead.
Quinlan looked up from his datapad and smirked. “Nice, Obes!” Hopping up off the couch his closest and most irksome friend gave him a proper once over before holding something out to him. Blinking Obi-wan opened his hand and frowned at the odd accessory.
“What is this?” He tilted it this way and that but wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
With a small tut Quinlan took it back and reached up to his hair.
“Hey!” He said as he felt a tug on his padawan braid.
“Hold still! This’ll hide your braid so you don’t get immediately spotted as a Jedi.”
Letting out a small huff he crossed his arms and waited while his friend did… something.
“Done!” Standing back and looking pleased his friend nodded toward the fresher mirror.
With a sigh and a bland look at his friend Obi-wan returned to the fresher to look at the accessory. To his surprise it was actually quite artful. The braid twisted around the clip in a flower shape that made it look as if the braid itself was actually just a part of the accessory and that he had grown his hair specifically to accommodate it. He looked back at his friend, surprised, and Quin rolled his eyes expressively.
“Obes, I’m a Shadow in training. I’d be pretty shit at my job if I couldn’t disguise a padawan braid.”
Obi-wan couldn’t help the startled snort that left him and shook his head at his best friend’s wide grin.
“Alright. Let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re up to something.” Quin said with an eyebrow wriggle.
“Stop.” Obi-wan said letting out a laugh. “You’re terrible.” Besides, he suspected that Master Tholme already knew what they were up to and if he didn’t approve he at least wouldn’t be interfering any time soon.
Master Tholme was good like that.
The two of them set off for one of the many ‘secret’ passages Quin knew and quickly found themselves in the middle of a busy street. After a year on the run, pretending to be someone he was not and drawing as little attention to himself as possible, he was able to fall in beside Quinlan no problem.
The farther they walked the more weight seemed to slough off his shoulders. A few minutes into their walk Quinlan leaned over, as if to point something out to him, and muttered; “there you are Obes. Glad to have you back.” Before actually pointing out a sign and changing directions. “Three more levels to go!” He said with a bright smile.
Obi-wan swallowed down a slight burning feeling and let his friend’s mischievous spark in the force guide him.
By the time he’d found his center they were stopped outside a walled off area with large letters carved out of a metal plaque.
Little Keldabe.
“Alright Ben, I’ve got the map and you’ve got the know-how. Let’s go on an adventure.” Quin said with a cheeky grin.
“Que, if you get us lost and I have to ask for directions- I am never going to let you live it down.” He replied primly.
“Oh ye of little faith! C’mon, let’s go find you those spices you’re craving so much!” From behind he felt hands pressing into his back and yelped as Quin shoved him forward.
As they passed through the overlapped walls that acted as a gateway into Little Keldabe Obi-wan felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation. Already he could hear the sounds of people talking in Mando’a and smell the many strong scents that made up Mandalorian cooking. The moment they stepped past the stark, blank, walls the world erupted into a riot of colors.
Banners of all kinds hung from every lamp post as colored awnings sheltered each stall from whatever elements might come falling from above. Light glinted off of different armors and weapons as the people went about their daily business.
The fact that the sight of this made him feel more welcome than the Temple… he tried not to think about it.
“So! I don’t know what any of this stuff is, you’re gonna have to take the lead on this one Ben!” Quinlan said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with a wide grin, though he could see some of the concern his friend was trying to hide.
“Well, how well are you able to handle your spices Que?” He asked playfully, not even attempting to dislodge his friend.
“Psh, anything you can handle I can definitely handle.” He said flippantly.
“Oh? Well, we shall see then.” Challenge accepted.
Walking down the street he tried to ignore the way the people stared at them. It was something he had become accustomed to while on Mandalore. There was just something about his red hair and blue eyes that seemed to fascinate the Mandalorians, though they had always been a little cagey when he tried to ask about it directly.
Finding the right stall he smiled as he waited for the last customer to place their order before he stepped up to the counter. “Su’cuy gar.” ‘Hello.’ He said politely. “Ni copaani t’ad skraan, gedet’ye.” ‘I would like two orders, please.’
The vendor was a tall Pantoran wearing bracers but no other armor. They brightened when they noticed him. “Su’cuy, t’ad skraan jiila.” ‘Two orders, right away.’
“O-kay, that was nifty and all but what did you say?” Quinlan asked from behind him, leaning over to try and get a good look at what the stall owner was doing.
“I ordered us both some Gi’rugam.” He said with no actual explanation.
“And that is-? Come on Ben, don’t leave me hanging.” His friend whined.
“Fine, they’re made from fish that has been finely chopped and combined with a starch. It is then rolled in flour, a binding agent like egg, and bread crumbs, before being deep fried in oil.” At least that was how it had been explained to him by Satine.
Quinlan blinked at him. “Damn, sounds better than what we usually get.” He said with a laugh.
“Gar skraan!” ‘Your food!’ The stall owner said, setting down two paper containers with steaming balls of deep fried fish and a pair of two-pronged eating sticks. Obi-wan handed them to Quinlan before turning back to the vendor.
“Vor entye. Tion’solet?” ‘Thank you. How much?’
The vendor blinked then narrowed their eyes at him for a moment. “Gar… Stewjoni’ad?” ‘You’re… Stewjoni?’
Obi-wan flinched ever so slightly and could feel how Quin’s presence in the force sharpened behind him, focused on the stall owner in case he needed to intervene.
“Lek’, ni Stewjoni’ad. Tion’jor?” ‘Yes, I’m Stewjoni. Why?’ He tried to keep his demeanor as calm and unassuming as possible as he asked, feigning simple curiosity.
The stall vendor nodded to themselves and gave him a smile. “Bic mav.” ‘It’s free.’
“…me’ven?” ‘…what?’ He asked in bewilderment. “Tion’jor?” ‘Why?’ He pressed.
“Uh, Ben? Little explanation here? Is something wrong?” Quin asked behind him.
“Bic dinui. Hiibir, gedet’ye.” ‘It’s a gift. Take it, please.’ There was a mild sense of confusion and slowly growing concern in the stall vendor and he could sense others around them becoming more interested by the second.
Obi-wan put on his brightest most grateful smile. “Vor entye par dinui.” ‘Thank you for the gift.’ With that he turned and nudged Quinlan away from the stall. “Smells great, doesn’t it? I can’t wait until you try one.” He said casually.
“Obes, what the kriff just happened.” Quin whispered once they were away from the stall and in an area that was a bit more open.
“They refused my credits. When I asked them why they suddenly asked if I was Stewjoni.” He said, holding out his hand for his container of gi’rugam.
He wasn’t about to waste them just because he was a little confused.
“Do you… think they want to… ya know…” Quinlan made a sign for ‘slaver’ with his hand and Obi-wan hissed, shoving his hand down.
“No! Certainly not. Mandalorians do not deal in slavery, Que, I told you this. Saying that here, or implying it, could get us into serious trouble.” He grumbled as he stuck his eating stick into one of the fish balls and took a tentative bite. They were still hot in the center after all. Glancing at his friend he smiled when Quinlan’s eyes widened and he let out a little sound of appreciation. “Try it with the brown sauce.” He suggested.
Never one to turn down a challenge or new experience Quinlan popped the lid on the small container and dipped the snack into the sauce before shoving it into his mouth. “Woah! That’s wicked!”
Obi-wan chuckled and dipped his gi’rugam into his own brown sauce. It had an almost tangy flavor to it with a hint of bite. It was probably the mildest food they would be eating that day if Obi-wan could help it.
“But it’s a bit weird. Why does it matter that you’re Stewjoni?” His friend asked after they’d had a few bites, standing around and watching people pass by. “I know everyone stares at your hair all the time, but how’d that vendor know?”
Obi-wan shrugged slightly. “It… happened a lot when I was on… well you know.” He didn’t want to mention Mandalore or Satine while in a market for traditional Mandalorians. That was just asking for trouble. “There seems to be some connection between the two but I’ve never been able to get anyone to tell me why…” And it had been frustrating back then but he hadn’t really had the time to focus on it. Too busy guarding Satine from attempts on her life by Kyr’tsad.
“Well if they’re giving you free shit then it’s probably a good connection.” His best friend said with a shrug.
He knew that Quin was trying to put him at ease, hiding his slight concern for the situation, but he didn’t call him on it.
“This is so good.” He said as he popped another fish ball into his mouth. “Ohhh, hey! We should buy some spices to take back with us!” He said with a grin. “Then I can totally put them in, uh, Tholme’s food.” Quin’s expression turned downright mischievous. “And Jinn’s.”
Obi-wan let out a small amused huff. “No, no spiking his food with spices from Manda’yaim.” He shook his head. “After he drinks his weight’s worth in tea you know he’ll blame me. You’ll get me into trouble you gigantic pest.”
Quinlan snorted and almost lost the fish ball he was chewing on, having to bring his hand up to his mouth to not spit it out by mistake. Obi-wan gave him a small smirk.
“Brat.” Quinlan muttered when he could finally speak without wheezing.
“And yet you seem particularly difficult to get rid of.” He raised a single delicate brow and Quinlan rolled his eyes.
“Never Obi-Ben. Can’t get rid of me now.” He said with conviction.
Obi-wan felt their bond brighten with feelings of acceptance, love, and playfulness. He sent as much of that affection back as he could.
“So! Where to next?”
Obi-wan smirked.