| abstract | - The trip to Brentaal had been tiring and Tira’s head still ached from fatigue when she was working in Senator Stoll’s office the following day. It was all to do to keep on task that afternoon, even given the rather sharp looks by those more senior to her. “Miss Sengel?” Her arms full of files to deliver to the senator’s senior aide, Tira was stopped by one of the many guards. “Yes?” she replied, trying to make her voice sound as impatient as possible. “There was a man outside asking what time you finished for the day,” the guard said. “I told him that it was none of his business, but he has insisted on waiting in the lobby. We are about to officially remove him from the premises, I thought you should know.” Tira shuddered. Who could it be? “Did he give a name?” “Says his name’s Dawler,” replied the guard, “though he refused to give any ID.” Tira smiled. “There’s nothing to worry about, I know him,” she told the guard. “Tell him I’ll be out shortly.” It was about forty-five minutes later that Tira emerged from Senator Stoll’s office. Standing beside one of the low couches with a wide smile on his face, was Jali. He quickly grabbed her wrist. “Let’s go,” he said, tugging her towards a waiting airtaxi. “Where are we going?” Tira asked, conscious that she was still wearing the rather revealing gown that Senator Stoll insisted that all his female staff wore. “To Tollan’s, he’s invited us to dinner, and we’re late,” he told her, closing the door behind Tira and giving the driver directions. “Is that a good idea?” Tira asked. “I’m not changed, I can’t go there looking like this!” She gestured to the slashed sections in her crimson dress. “Can’t we make a stop so I can get some decent clothes?” “You look fine,” Jali asked, not really looking at her or even listening. “And we’re late, he expected us a half-hour ago.” Tollan Antilles lived with his family in a modest building in Westport, situated above a street of shops. His wife, Verda Menyan Antilles, had had it decorated somewhat reminiscent of the decor of her home planet of Alderaan. Or rather, that had been the case, given that they had two children there were quite a number of adjustments. But it was large and spacious, and in a good neighbourhood. That evening, Verda carefully arranged a vase of Alderaanian lilies for the middle of the table. Beside her, her husband started to open a bottle of wine. She looked at him. “Isn’t it a bit soon for that?” Tollan shrugged, pouring himself a glass. “They’ll be here soon, anyway.” As if on cue, the doorchime sounded. “I’ll get it!” Tollan’s son Sarwan ran towards the door and opened it. “Uncle Jali!” “Hey!” Jali tousled the boy’s red hair as he and Tira came through the door. On the other side of the room was Sarwan’s sister Kreia, she smiled shyly as Jali greeted her. “They’re here!” Tollan called, walking into the room with the bottle and glasses so he couldn’t shake hands. He nodded to the children. “It’s time you two were off to bed, say good night nicely.” When the three adults were alone Tollan started pouring out the wine. Jali was silent for a moment. While it might have been possible to deceive himself at his own place, that wasn’t the case here. Tollan’s kids had been five and six when he had gone inside, now they looked completely different from what he remembered. Sarwan with his father’s red hair and long, thin, pale face; Kreia with the dark hair and eyes like her mother. Verda came in at that point. “Dinner’s just about ready,” she said after greeting Jali and Tira. She eyed Tira’s dress with interest. “Is that what the senator makes you wear?” Tira nodded. “We all do, well—all the females.” Jali looked at her in surprise. “What? You didn’t tell me that!” Verda and Tira only laughed. “You men,” Verda said, looking between her husband and Jali with a smile. “You’re all alike.” From Star Wars Fanon, a Wikia wiki.
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