“Are you really sure this is necessary?” Jon asks, faintly hunted.

“Well,” Kit says lightly. “This does seem to be a predicament, doesn’t it?” Pressed right up against him, gauntlets digging bruises into his almost-bare hips, Dogma squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “I'm going to kill my whole squad,” he says, perfectly certain and resigned to it.

“Well this is awkward,” Quinlan says, raising a hand to stop his nipple tassels from swinging.

“Barriss?” Ahsoka hisses, bewildered. Barriss, in a fancier dress than Ahsoka has ever seen her in, covered in tattoos and dripping jewelry, freezes stock-still on the stairs into the casino, and Ahsoka feels the bright-sharp flare of her panic a half-second before she spins to face Ahsoka.

Jango's eyes flicker up, down, up again, and it’s meant to be dismissive, but Shaak knows wariness when she sees it, and it makes her smile just a little. “Lady, I just tried to put a slug through that fancy headdress of yours.” With a chuckle, Shaak takes a step closer. “Fett, I've been a Jedi for decades. If I held a grudge against everyone who had tried to kill me, I would have more enemies than you.”