“Aw, come on,” says Anakin, glaring at the dice as if they’ve personally offended him. “You roll twenties for Ahsoka and not for me? I own you, you fuckers, the least you could do is do me a favor every once in a while.” or: Anakin Skywalker's terrible luck strikes again at the worst time.

“I cannot believe you,” Jaster says, muffled where his face is buried in his hands. “One week of leave and this—this—this is how you come back?” Myles weighs whether he should be ashamed of himself, considers that last time Jaster got himself kidnapped because he pissed off a culty group of guardians around an ancient shrine, and promptly decides he regrets nothing. “I was only the Sith Emperor for three days before true love’s kiss broke the spell, it was fine.”

“Clan Wren sends its regards,” Ursa says, bowing, and by all rights Jaster should be paying attention to the Countess’s daughter, should pay his own respects to the heir to Krownest, but— He only has eyes for Ursa's brother, steady at her side.

Jon is not used to wanting anything, much less something he might be allowed to have.