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She entered his room again. He was dosing, the caf stood still untouched on the shelf – she guessed that he had felt too cold to reach out. He opened his eyes again.
Blueish green eyes. She couldn’t deny that she liked looking into them.
“I hope you don’t think I’m taking advantage of your … current state”, she said and noticed how ridiculous it sounded. Formal. Stiff. His eyes focused, ran over her cap, her grey tank top and the black pants.
“I declare that I don’t suspect you of taking advantage”, he vowed serenely and his eyes begged her to come closer.
“You still cold?”
He nodded and smiled wearily. Yet – was there a hint of mischief underneath that smile? She had supplied him with the rescue blanket from the first-aid kit and some small chemical hand warmers, like the ones they had worn in their boots and gloves, but he still shivered genuinely. She hadn’t felt the cold anymore, out of sheer worry, but now it stung everywhere, and most severely in her feet. She took a small breath, sat on the edge of the bunk bed and, with only a moment of hesitation, slipped under the blankets. He smiled at her and moved a little backwards. She slid beside him. The bunk bed was narrow, but they managed to keep a little space between them. His hair was still wet. Far too vividly she remembered touching it under the shower, when she had kneaded the ice water out of it.
He was still shirtless, but had put on pants before he retreated under the heap of blankets. She tried not to think about bare skin and short dark hair on his chest. His arms. Even around his navel. She closed her eyes, his face was far too close. But it certainly got warmer under the blankets.
“Nice”, he said.
“What?”
“You having a higher body temperature. Cozy.”
She chuckled.
Why did you lift me above the ice river just to fall in yourself?, she had scolded him on the mission, earlier, when she had pulled him out of the water, soaking wet, and she had not only worried about him and their way back, but also about their asset, the rare little holo bombs he carried in his backpack. However, his condition got so bad before they arrived at the Ghost that she didn’t even check on the holo bombs Fulcrum needed before shoving him under the shower and removing his winter coat, sweater, and shirt. She had left him to struggle with boots and trousers for himself and had provided the foil blanket and the caf. Afterwards, she had changed out of her winter clothing that had soaked in the warm water of the shower. She hated ice planets.
Because you have a higher body temperature. You’d freeze earlier, he had answered her question, deadpan humour. I looked up Twi’lek on the holonet.
Why would you do that?, she said. She had noticed already that he had done research concerning Twi’leks – Chopper told her about his online activities. She had been angry but had kept it to herself. She knew why most people looked up Twi’lek on the holonet.
Because I didn’t want to accidentally poison you with my cooking. I … His teeth had chattered and interrupted his charmingly innocent explanation. She could still feel where he had pushed her away from the breaking ice with sheer … Force. I discovered that you could rather poison me than the other way round. Twi’leks can eat almost anything. She didn’t know if she believed him, but the danger of freezing to death had instantly made her more forgiving.
“You’re still quite cold”, she told him and inched a little closer. She opened her eyes. His lids were closed, his face relaxed for the first time since he fell into the hidden river.
“Do you mind me asking a question?”, he said.
“No. If it’s not annoying.”
He opened his eyes, startled. “Do I annoy you?”
“Is that the question I shouldn’t mind or is it a follow-up question to my answer?”
“The … the latter.” He grinned helplessly.
“Sometimes you annoy me, yes.” She couldn’t help smiling. “Especially when you’re trying to flirt.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. Took a few breaths as if trying several responses in his mind.
“I’m sorry” was the answer that finally made it. He looked genuinely concerned. “It’s just. I don’t know. I … I care about you. Sort of. And I don’t know how to show you except … like that. I didn’t … I certainly didn’t want to be a creep.”
She laughed. His confession of not really knowing how to show his affection made her feel a little strange, and it seemed to be a good idea to laugh it off. “Well, I got used to it”, she said, as if a part of her didn’t want him to stop it.
“Perhaps you even like it?”, he suggested with one raised eyebrow.
“No. Annoyed. Not liking it”, she said sternly, and the eyebrow descended again. “The question, Kanan Jarrus!”
“Ah. I … I wondered. I never saw you without your pilot suit. So I … I guess I thought of the cap as … part of it? Now you’re wearing … casual stuff … which is … which looks gorgeous and I really don’t mind you wearing it more often …”
“Try to ask your question without going into full flirtation mode.”
“Sorry. No, really, I mean it, I try … Okay, I’ll try harder.” Another mischievous grin. A sudden jerk inside her stomach told her that she was – despite herself – utterly attracted by his handsome face, the scent of his hair, the presence of his half-naked body … Stop! She grinded her teeth.
“What I wanted to say is: You’re still wearing a cap. Is it … is it because you feel cold – you don’t have hair and your … I don’t know … the surface of your head is somewhat larger because of your … your …”
“Lekku.”
“Right. Lekku.” He seemed to blush a little, like a kid who had named lady parts for the first time. “Do you wear it because you feel cold, or is it a cultural thing?”
She looked at him.
“And now you think I’m an idiot”, he presumed anxiously.
“No! Not at all. I’m just pondering.” She raised a hand and touched the cap over her right ear cone. He shivered a little as her move let in cooler air. “Yeah, it’s cultural.” She snorted. “You see me running from Twi’lek culture whenever I see it from a distance, and yet I still wear these.” He frowned and watched her fingers playing with the seam of the cap. “You could compare it to … Well, there’s something like a cultural … agreement throughout most parts of the galaxy that … mammal women don’t go around showing their breasts. But men can show their bare chest.” She nodded towards his, and he looked as if he was about to apologize, but she continued talking. “It’s not usual, but it’s not … sexually charged either. At least not in the same way. And you can’t really explain it, I mean, okay, it’s the part where babies suck milk, but it’s not that simple, right? Women wearing clothes that cover their breasts is a cultural thing as well, only more common. Twi’lek women cover the … the parts of their heads where the lekku emanate, because it’s … It’s a bit … if you don’t, it’s like you’re walking about half-naked. Most men don’t cover their heads, because they don’t have to, but women do. And I do it as well, because it makes me feel … not right if I don’t wear a cap.”
“Okay”, he said simply, but she wasn’t done yet.
“You have certainly seen Twi’leks with ornaments, jewelry, all kind of adornments on their heads.”
She could tell that he thought of the same thing as she did, but she continued nonetheless. “It’s common among … slaves or … dancers or … Well, most of the Twi’leks you see out of Ryloth are part of that big slave machinery or the sex worker business.” She tried not to sound bitter or judging, although the thought of all the Twi’lek pole dancers she had seen on missions in gritty cantinas made her stomach ache. “Some slavers used headdresses to hold back the slaves’ Lekku so that they weren’t able to communicate with the Lekku’s motions. Twi’lek dancers put on only some straps of jewelry to match their … attire – it’s like the third part of a bikini or something like that. And of course it’s okay, if you decide to wear something like that.” She paused, not feeling okay with this at all. She tried to be – she tried to tell herself that everyone had to make her or his own choices. But that was exactly the point. Which Twi’lek girl out of Ryloth had a choice like that? “It’s not okay that half of the galaxy expects you to wear something like that and to dance around a pole.” She sounded bitter, definitely. “So, I’m wearing a cap. It matches my … style. I’m not the bikini type.”
She expected him to say something about her certainly looking good in a bikini. He looked at her, his face so absurdly close she felt almost cross-eyed. Her hand slid underneath the blanket again. She huddled a little closer, feeling awkward and angry and small and still too attached to her home planet. Thoughts about her father shot through her mind. She expelled them by laying her forearm onto Kanan's arm. They were almost hugging now. Was he getting warmer?
“Thanks for answering. Did I … are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay!”
“I had a friend, Sammo. As a kid. He was a Twi’lek. He always wore something on his head, but I never asked.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think about it. People wore all kinds of stuff.”
“No, I mean: You really had a Twi’lek friend?” So his first Twi’lek encounter wasn’t a table dancer. Hera felt strangely relieved, as if she had to be embarrassed for most of her fellow off-Rylothians. I don’t. They live their lives. I live mine. But she had felt others watching her. She had felt groping hands that had tried to carress her lekku while she was pushing through a crowd. She had heard the whistles and the remarks and the requests. She had felt them wishing she would fail as a pilot and realize that it was no good for a Twi’lek woman to fly a ship. To own a ship. To own her own kriffin’ life. She closed her lids before angry tears could start to well. She was such an idiot. It had just been a simple question.
She felt his arm mirror her movement, felt him hugging her gently.
“There were no prejudices. At the Jedi temple”, he said, and it was the first time he said it out loud. The J-word. She huddled against him, her face to his shoulder. He sighed at the feeling of warmth. The angry tears retreated. The Jedi temple. He was raised as a Jedi. Perhaps I pulled the last survivor of the Jedi order out of ice water. Her father would be very proud if he knew, would indulge himself in one of his own Jedi stories. But she would never tell him her Jedi story. Kanan was something like her own personal Jedi. On her ship. In her life. A secret no one knew. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
“Some men wear head scarves or caps, too”, she muttered as she remembered where her thoughts had left the conversation.
“Perhaps he was simply feeling cold”, he said and hugged her a little tighter.
“And how about you?”
“I’m fine”, he muttered. His chin touched the top of her cap and she could feel him smiling as well.