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justlookfrightened · 4 years

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4, 5, or 35 ? Because I’m indecisive as hell and love your writing.

From this prompt list: 4. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”; 5. “But I’ve never told you that before.” ; and 35. “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

Bitty played hockey and Samwell and went on to be a cookbook author; Jack went directly into the NHL.

Bitty’s eyes traveled up the the shelves of the cupboard, wondering what ingredients he could reasonably expect someone who did not cook or bake for a living to have.

Flour, of course, if they were volunteering to be on a baking show. Most likely all purpose. Sugar (white) and salt (iodized). Butter. Maybe they usually used margarine, but Bitty would not compromise on that. Butter surely counted as a common ingredient. Shortening, too.

What about spices? Most people probably had cinnamon in their cabinets, even if it was twelve years old and devoid of flavor. Would nutmeg or allspice be too much? Maybe.

And this contestant had requested a fruit pie. If they were going for common ingredients, that would most likely mean apple. Apples were nearly always plentiful and cheap at supermarkets, so if this pie was going to use fresh fruit (and it was), it would be apple.

Bitty had misgivings about appearing on “So You Think You Can Bake,” the new Food Network show that pitted expert bakers against celebrities. The idea was that the expert would develop a recipe they thought was suitable for an inexperienced home cook.

Then the expert and the celebrity would both make the dish in separate kitchens while being filmed.

The expert baker and celebrity contestant would have their creations scored anonymously. If the celebrity chef received at least eighty percent of the score of the celebrity baker, they won money for the baker to keep and the celebrity to donate to charity. Total scores counted toward the final competition at season’s end, when the three best pairs would be brought back for the final, competing for a $50,0000 prize.

There were so many things that could go wrong. Bitty could get paired with a celebrity chef with no palate, or no coordination, or even no real interest in winning. Some people could mess up a perfectly good recipe by not measuring accurately, or doing steps in the wrong order, or even mistaking the salt for the sugar. If the celebrity chef messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad for them. It would throw shade on Bitty, whose job, after all, was to explain how to bake in a way that people would understand. Relatable was his brand.

But Eileen, the PR rep who handled his books for the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea.

“This show is literally made for you,” she said. “And the exposure would be great. Think of the campaign for your next book.”

So Bitty agreed. Then he found out who his assigned celebrity was.

“A hockey player?” Bitty asked. “Whose only memorable sound bite is ‘Eat more protein’? Which did not go viral for the reasons he thinks it did. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Beyonce, or even Taylor Swift, but why not a Kacey Musgraves?”

Bitty wasn’t at all bitter that, at 24, he no longer had regular access to an ice rink. He could pay to rent ice to figure skate, but it was hard to find the motivation since he was no longer in competition, and he hadn’t yet found a men’s league hockey team where he felt comfortable.

“I know Jack Zimmermann isn’t who most people think of as a home cook,” Eileen said. “But the producers were thrilled. They think he’ll bring on a whole new demographic.”

“How’d they rope him into it anyway?” Bitty asked, scrolling through interview after interview with Jack talking saying, “We win and lose as a team,” and “We have to protect the neutral zone and get the puck down low,” and “We need to keep our feet moving and have a shoot-first mentality.”

It was like they taught him six phrases in media training and he used them over and over again, in random order.

He wasn’t hard to look at, Bitty would give him that. And the physique -- yeah, his nutrition plan was definitely protein-heavy. Why would he agree to do a baking show?

“My agent said it would be a good idea,” Jack Zimmermann said when he and Bitty had their first meeting. “He said it would humanize me. Actually, he said it would be the beginning of an arc of character development I wasn’t expecting, but that’s just the way he is.”

The actual first meeting was in the green room, waiting to go on-set for the “first meeting” taping. Jack had been sitting in a chair along the wall when Bitty came in, reading an actual, honest-to-God book.

Bitty had to shove his phone in his pocket as he cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. It seemed like Jack kept reading for a few seconds after he noticed Bitty, which was annoying, because the book would always be there, but Bitty was prepared to be gracious.

“Mr. Zimmermann? I’m Eric Bittle,” Bitty said. “We’re going to be working together. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know,” Jack said.

Okay.

“When we start the taping, I’m going to ask you about any experience you have baking, any favorite desserts, things you’ve always wanted to learn to make,” Bitty said. “Anything you want me to steer the conversation toward? Or stay away from?”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?” Jack said. “Talking, I mean.”

“Um, yes?” Bitty said. “It’s not like we’re concocting a fake story. We just want the on-camera talk to go smoothly. So have you baked before?”

“No.”

“Any favorite desserts?”

“I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eat something sweet,” Bitty said. “Anything you want to make?”

Jack shrugged.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, you can call me Jack,” Jack said, then launched into his explanation about his agent, a man with the improbable name of John Johnson.

Bitty shook his head at that, and tried to keep the conversation going.

“You’re Canadian, right?”

“Dual citizenship,” Jack said. “But I mostly grew up in Montreal.”

“Anything special from back home?”

Then the assistant came to bring them on the set, dressed to look like a home kitchen, each of them seated at a table with mugs in front of them. The mugs just held water, but the audience wouldn’t see that; it was supposed to look like two friends talking over coffee.

Bitty decided to pick up the conversation where he left off in the green room, since it was the only thing he hadn’t struck out on already.

“So, Jack, I understand you’re from Montreal. Do have any memories of classic desserts or baked goods from your childhood?”

Jack paused and looked like he was really thinking, like he didn’t want to disappoint the producers.

“We used to have tarte au sucre at the holidays,” he finally said. “I liked that.”

“Sugar pie?” Bitty said, thankful that at least the cooking terms had stuck from his college French class. “We could do something with that.”

“But I’d like to do something that has some healthy ingredients,” Jack had said.

“Is fruit healthy enough?” Bitty asked. “Maybe a fruit pie? You might not know this, but that’s kind of my specialty.”

Jack had offered a smile at that, and said, “Good to know. Maybe we can win this thing, eh?”

The taping didn’t last long, and soon Bitty was collecting his things from the green room.

“Wait, Jack, I forgot to ask you, any allergies? I wouldn’t want to kill you for a silly TV show.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Jack said. “But no, no food allergies. Is there anything I should practice beforehand?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that,” Bitty said, starting to feel like maybe Jack wasn’t as wooden as he’d seemed at first. He seemed to relax once the taping ended. Maybe this would be okay after all.

Bitty started by making an apple pie, trying to write down the steps as precisely as he could just as he did them.

It didn’t work.

Sure, he could measure and mix the dry ingredients for the crust, and tell Jack to make sure his butter and shortening were cold, but how could he explain the twisting motion for the pastry cutter? When he had to start by explaining what a pastry cutter was?

And how would Jack know when he was done cutting and should add the ice water? Bitty had read recipes over the years saying the mixture should look like everything from rough crumbs to small peas … which were not the same thing by a long shot. Bitty had learned what it should look like at his MooMaw’s elbow; sure, he’d tried to put it into words in his cookbooks, but there was a reason he always included photos.

Jack had said he’d never baked. He wouldn’t know what it should look like.

Bitty called the producers to ask if he could include pictures in the recipe he developed for Jack. The answer -- hand-drawn sketches were fine, as long he drew them himself, but no photographs -- was not encouraging.

Bitty started over and this time took a photograph of the dough mixture just before he added the water. He could use that to write a description, he decided. Then he had to think about how to explain when the dough was wet enough.

Once he had the dough made, the process for making the filling was easier. Peel and slice apples, coat with flour and a little cinnamon and sugar -- and, a last-minute brainstorm for Canadian Jack, a little maple syrup -- and set aside. He toyed with the idea of including maple sugar for the crust, but the studio pantry probably didn’t have real maple sugar. He could boil some syrup down -- but that wasn’t something Jack could (or would) do, probably. Better to just do an egg wash and sprinkle some sugar on for the sparkle.

The instructions for rolling out the dough were simple enough, provided Jack followed them. That was the hard part. Most people couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone with pie dough.

Bitty moved to his laptop and wrote at the top of the instructions:

“A general note on making pie dough. Do less than you think you need to. Don’t work it too much. If you do, it will be tough. So if you’re not sure if you should stop messing with it, stop.”

Then he did his best to put into words what it should like with all the fats cut in (“If you don’t see any powdery flour, it’s probably good”) and with the ice water added (“It should be moist, not wet”).

Then he thought about the top. Normally, people thought of lattices as being hard to do. But if the baker was methodical and followed directions, it wasn’t so bad. And it would be easier to put strips on top of the pie than to pick up the whole top crust and put it on intact. It didn’t really matter if the bottom was a mess; this wasn’t the Great British Bake-Off with Mary Berry and her hatred of soggy bottoms. The pie would be served from the dish, and no one would know if the bottom crust was torn and mended as long it still tasted good.

So, a nice, tightly woven lattice for the top. Bitty set to drawing a detailed diagram.

Bitty printed the recipe he developed -- all ten pages -- to bring with him and hand to Jack. He’d already supplied it to the producers to make sure they agreed all the ingredients were things a home cook would have in their pantry, or at least have ready access to.

“Real maple syrup?” the production assistant had asked. “What about something like Pillsbury pancake syrup? That’s what most people use.”

“My baker is Canadian,” Bitty argued. “He’d have the real stuff.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Bitty was dressed for TV in dark skinny jeans, a light T-shirt and a Samwell red button-down over it with red Chuck Taylors. The provided apron, he knew, would be beige with a dark red logo.

Jack came in dressed in charcoal gray tailored slacks and a light blue shirt, almost exactly the same color as his eyes. Yeah, he was good-looking. Bitty wasn’t sure if he would bring in the sports-loving young men the producers were hoping for, but it wouldn’t matter. The women would love him. And the gay boys like him. But no one ever counted them as their own demographic.

When the got into the studio, Bitty handed over the recipe.

Jack’s eyes widened when he saw how long it was.

“Does this take all day?” he asked.

“I can do it in about two hours,” Bitty said. “Counting chilling and baking time.”

“You’ll have three hours to complete the challenge,” the host said. “As long as you finish in that time, any differential in how long it takes won’t count against you.

Jack nodded, a determined set to his jaw. Bitty was almost glad they would be separated so he didn’t have to worry about cutting himself on that jawline.

Then Bitty was escorted to his studio kitchen, where he proceeded to make a pie, narrating each step, just like he was making a vlog post.

He made sure to turn the top of the bowl to the camera when he was done cutting the fats in, and again when he added the water.

“You see those streaks of butter and shortening?” he said, when he gathered the dough into disks to chill. “You want those to make flaky crust.”

He made sure to slice the apples evenly, and mix them gently with the flour and flavorings, then he rolled his dough out.

He clucked at himself -- but didn’t say anything -- when he realized he’d forgotten to tell Jack to make sure he had the thinnest possible layer of fat on his work surface before he scattered flour over it.

Then, once the pie was done, he actually slapped himself upside the head.

“I never said anything about covering the edges with foil at the beginning,” he said. “Poor guy is definitely gonna have burnt edges. Oh well.”

Bitty’s pie came out of the oven at the two-hour mark, and he donned oven mitts to be filmed carrying it into the judging room.

“You’ve got some time if you want to head to the green room relax,” the production assistant said. “Someone will come get you before Jack is ready to bring his pie in.”

Bitty flung himself onto the couch and groaned. He could have used the $5,000 prize from this stage of the competition to get ahead on his rent for a couple of months … and maybe even rent an ice rink for a couple of hours to clear his mind. He didn’t regret his choice of career -- writing cookbooks, running his vlog, making appearances like this -- but the money tended to come in fits and starts.

He realized he’d never even asked Jack what his charity was. The show must have asked him at some point, so Bitty was sure he’d find out eventually. He hoped Jack would donate to his chosen charity regardless. He could certainly afford it. The only real advantage for the charity to having Jack appear on the show was publicity. Well, and convincing people that straight, athletic young men could bake and enjoy it.

But Bitty forgot to tell him to use foil to guard the edges, so they probably wouldn’t advance, and it would all be Bitty’s fault. Jack -- he had to be competitive, right? -- well, it didn’t matter if hated Bitty. They hardly knew one another.

“Eric? Jack’s pie is done. Time to go to the judging room.”

Bitty roused himself from the sofa, resigned to his fate. If nothing else, he’d learned a lesson.

He took his place behind his pie and waited for Jack and his pie with its inevitable burnt edges.

He was sitting there when Jack came in, carrying his beautiful golden brown pie aloft. Jack set it on the empty cooling rack next to Bitty’s and stepped back.

It was beautiful. The lattice was maybe not quite as straight, not quite as even as Bitty’s, but it was close.

Bitty couldn’t help a pleased grin, first at the pie, then at Jack, who had finished with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Okay, you two. We’re going to break for lunch while Jack’s pie cools,” the production assistant said. “We need you back in an hour in the same clothes, so don’t mess them up.”

Bitty was about to head out when Jack said, “Want to grab a sandwich? There’s a place down the block.”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “I have some questions for you.”

“And me for you,” Jack said.

Once they had their food and settled at a table, Bitty said, “How did you keep the edges from burning?”

“I made foil collars,” Jack said.

“But I’ve never told you that before,” Bitty said.

“You always do it on your YouTube channel,” Jack said.

“Wait … you’ve seen … but you said you’d never baked,” Bitty said.

“I hadn’t,” Jack said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never watched anyone else bake on YouTube. When Johnson said you were doing this, it seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Bitty really had to start thinking of some of his own words instead of just repeating Jack’s.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Someone showed me your videos when you were at Samwell, and I was intrigued by a hockey player who baked. Made me wonder what it would have been like to be on a college team, or whether I’d develop any other interests.”

“Someone?”

Jack actually blushed. “My mother. She went to Samwell.”

It was almost a physical effort for Bitty to push that out of his head. Jack’s mother was … nope. Not going there.

“So you wanted to make pie because you’d see me make it before?”

“A lot,” Jack said. “But the instructions were really helpful.”

“I thought we’d lost it when I realized I’d never said anything about the foil,” Bitty admitted.

“But I figured you could make a donation to your charity anyway.”

Jack nodded.

“I plan on adding to it even if we win,” he said. “What do you want to do with the money? Bitty was not going to tell Jack Zimmermann that he needed money to pay his rent. Not this unexpected Jack Zimmermann, who for some reason had been interested in Bitty for years. Despite, Bitty reminded himself, being straight. Almost certainly.

“Some of it will buy ice time,” he said. “I miss skating, you know? I used to figure skate before I played hockey.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t skate every day,” Jack said. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that. Don’t want to make you jealous.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you,” Bitty said. ”I have the job I want. I just want to be able to skate for fun. Like you want to bake for fun, I guess.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “It was pretty stressful. I kept wanting to make it perfect, but you said not to overwork it. But maybe it would be more fun if it wasn’t being recorded for TV.”

“Maybe we could bake together sometime?” Bitty said.

“Then skate?” Jack suggested. “On our practice ice.”

“That would be really great,” Bitty said. “Ready to go back? By the way, you never said what your charity is.”

“You Can Play,” Jack said. “I’m thinking of coming out next year.”

#omg check please #omgcheckplease #pre-zimbits #my fic #prompt fill

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masterofthelivingforce · 6 years

Text

Drabble for @therapardalis!

Qui-Gon was not amused.

“You went behind my back!” he almost growled at Tahl and Micah, who looked utterly unapologetic.

“I’m not a- a-” Qui-Gon grasped for words, making a wide gestures with his hands, too annoyed to even compose a coherent sentence. Realizing he was losing his cool, he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth, and released his frustration to the Force to gain a modicum of peace. “I’m forty-four, not a blasted kid! I don’t deserve this kind of shit from you two!”

“But Qui, we meant no harm!” Micah complained, having the galls to look offended, as if he were the wronged party here.

“Don’t ‘Qui’ me,” Qui-Gon snapped right back at him, crossing his arms over his chest and hiding his arms in the wide sleeves of his robe. “I told you Thera was my friend, and you should have trusted me well enough to leave it at that.” Instead they had gone behind his back and both requested Thera as their pilot for their latest missions - and Qui-Gon had learnt it only because Thera herself had told him.

Tahl stepped forward - with her hands on her hips, she looked dreadfully like their créche master back from when they were younglings, when someone was being unreasonably stubborn. Qui-Gon had no doubt she was doing it on purpose, and felt even more offended, as if she was trying to belittle his right to be pissed off at them. “That’s the thing, Qui-Gon! You don’t have friends outside the Order. Forgive us for, you know, caring about you.”

Oh no, Qui-Gon wasn’t going to let her guilt-trip him. “I have plenty of friends outside the Order!” he argued back, only for her to loudly scoff: “Please. You only have acquaintances outside the Order - people you’re on friendly terms as long as the mission lasts, then you never talk with ever again.” She pointedly raised an eyebrow. “And this is not the case. You gave her your private Temple comm, for Force’s sake, and then you bribed the mission master to have her assigned as your pilot three times in as many months! You even went out of your way to meet her on Coruscant and spent a whole day with her.”

Qui-Gon pulled up, his back ramrod straight. “What point are you trying to make, Tahl?” he asked, voice dangerously low.

Tahl sighed, her shoulders drooping as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “We were… Confused. You haven’t made any serious friend outside the Order since Xanatos. We wanted to see what was so special about her.” Qui-Gon stilled at the mention of his old Padawan - they never spoke of him. Never. Even if it was illogical and childish of him, he felt betrayed she’d broken that unspoken rule.

“Couldn’t you have just asked me?” he asked, his voice flat - something in his face made both Tahl and Micah wince, and he felt a very un-Jedi-like satisfaction at that.

“We did, if you remember,” Micah said, finally having the decency to look sheepish. “But you brushed us off like no big deal.”

“Maybe because it wasn't?” Qui-Gon bit back. “What I don’t get is why. Why did you feel the need to get Thera as your pilot for the sole purpose of drilling her? Why did you go behind my back when you could have just asked me? I would have introduced her, for Force’s sake! I never tried to keep this a secret!”

Micah and Tahl exchanged uneasy looks, shuffling closer to each other, presenting a wary but united front against Qui-Gon. Oh, so there were sides to this argument now?

It was Tahl who answered, her voice soft and pleading: “We thought you might have fallen in love with her.”

Qui-Gon stilled.

Of all the things he’d expected… No, that wasn’t correct. He had openly faced them like this exactly because he couldn’t understand why they could have done something like that. Fuming, he’d thought long and hard about it, but he had come up blank. It just didn’t make sense.

But surely, of all the far fetched excuses he’d thought they might come up with, that one wasn’t in the list.

“You thought,” he repeated, stunned, “that I had fallen in love. With Thera.” What the fuck? “You sought her out to see if you were right.” They had approached her separately to get two different readings, to avoid misleading each other - it was standard procedure in an investigation. Knowing them, Micah would have tried to bond with Thera over their shared love of flying, and Tahl… Sith hells, Thera and Tahl had so much in common it wasn’t even funny, what with the both of them being honourable battle-hardened women.

Over the comm, Thera hadn’t seemed annoyed, only puzzled at why suddenly Jedi were requesting her so much. She’d told Qui-Gon his Jedi friends had asked her a lot of questions about them and what kind of relationship they had - all those inquiries, no matter how polite, had made her wary. Ever the honourable woman, Thera had hesitantly asked if them being friends was somehow against the Order’s rules, if she’d put Qui-Gon in trouble somehow.

Qui-Gon swallowed, shaking his head as he ran his hands down his face, trying to wrap his mind around this idiocy. He didn’t know whether to laugh or rant at them. In love-!

“Well?” he asked, his voice thick with dark sarcasm, “What’s your verdict? Am I love with Captain Pardalis?”

Tahl squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away, as if hurt by the edge in his words, and Micah laid a comforting hand on her arm. “We don’t think so, no. You didn’t even have sex!” he said with a smile to try and ease the tension - but it was a thin, uneasy smile, and the joke fell short of making anyone laugh.

“Great deduction. I could have told you the same thing if, you know, you two had thought of asking me,” Qui-Gon sneered, leaning back against the wall of his living room. Tahl and Micah exchanged troubled glances, their head bowed, and then cautiously looked up at Qui-Gon. Their body language made it obvious they were having second thoughts about their plan - they were feeling uneasy and guilty. Had they truly expected he wouldn’t be offended? That he wouldn’t care?

“Sorry,” Tahl said, her pretty gold and green eyes downcast, and Micah followed suit, apologizing as well. They both lowered their shields, letting their regret bleed into the Force - Qui-Gon could taste how guilty they were feeling over hurting him.

He sighed, pushing off the wall, his anger drained right out of him. He’d never been able to stay angry at them when they showed to regret their actions - he wasn’t the vendicative sort.

(He wasn’t his former Master.)

Qui-Gon brushed their Force presences with his own, sharing both his disappointment that his best friends wouldn’t trust him and his forgiveness.

Micah shot up and hugged him, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon’s shoulders. The latter snorted and mock-headbutted him, bumping their foreheads together, eliciting a smile out of Micah. The two men turned to look at Tahl and both raised an arm, inviting her to make it group hug. Despite being much less touchy-feely than either man, Tahl joined them, her slimmer form easily fitting between them.

“We’re really sorry,” Micah meekly apologized when they relocated to the kitchenette, so that they could all calm down on a cup of tea and pretend to be civilized Jedi Masters instead of younglings. “Yeah,” Tahl joined in from where she was sitting on the counter. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Qui-Gon agreed, not unkindly, as he fished their three favourite mugs from the cupboard. “What I don’t understand is what gave you that silly idea. I mean…” He mulled over his thoughts, trying to put them into words. It was trickier than one would expect, despite his status as master diplomat. “You never had that concern before with any of my lovers.” Ever since he lost his virginity with Micah when he was sixteen, Qui-Gon had never been in a relationship, discovering that sex and love were wildly different things to him. Despite strongly disagreeing with his former Master, who preached romantic love should be shunned as attachment, Qui-Gon had never fallen for any of his bed partners - and over the years there had been many. What had marked Thera as different?

The kettle beeped, and Qui-Gon poured the boiling water into the teapot with three generous spoonfuls of Sapir tea. He caught the mildly disgusted look Micah gave it, and smiled smugly at him - after the shit he’d just pulled, Micah would do better to keep his trap shut and enjoy Qui-Gon favourite blend of tea. The Councillor rolled his eyes but seemed to acquiesce.

“So, what made Thera different? As you eloquently put it, we didn’t even have sex.”

Tahl shrugged, cocking her head. “It was the way you spoke of her. You were really excited when you first mentioned her, and you kept bringing her up. Listening to you, one would think she hung the stars on the nightsky.”

Qui-Gon gaped in horror at her, and Micah nodded, grinning - but his clear eyes were serious. “You did sound a bit like a lovestruck boy.”

“I didn’t!”

“Believe me, you did.”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Younglings, can we not do this?”

Micah and Qui-Gon rolled their eyes at Tahl, ever the voice of reason and the rain on their parade. The woman very pointedly ignored them and poured the tea instead, handing each man his mug - green for Qui-Gon and blue for Micah.

“I was surprised when she confirmed you weren’t lovers,” Tahl continued. “She’s very beautiful - very self-confident, too, and I know you like women like that.”

“Can’t a man be friends with a woman without wanting to have sex with her?” Qui-Gon complained, blowing on his tea. “After all I’m friends with you.”

Tahl scoffed. “As if! Pull the other one, Qui.” He graciously bowed his head in agreement - if Tahl weren’t completely asexual, both Qui-Gon and Micah would have tried to get her in their beds years ago. Not that they hadn’t tried, but Tahl had turned out to be seriously freaked out by actual sex, so they had settled with being friends without benefits.

“Seriously what were you doing wrong, Qui? Thera is totally your type,” a beat, then Micah amended: “Well, mine too. What, she into girls?”

“I don’t think so,” Qui-Gon grumbled, hiding behind his mug, recalcitrant to breach the subject - but knowing that he either dealt with it now, or they would keep needling him for a month. “I think she just doesn’t care for it.” He took a small sip, careful not to scald his tongue. The taste of smoked leaves and berries invaded his nose and mouth, making him think of earthy, growing things. Ahh, blessed, blessed Sapir.

Tahl raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You think she’s asexual? She didn’t strike me as the type.” Micah’s face clearly told how sad the thought of pretty women who didn’t want to have sex with men made him.

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I don’t think so? It’s just… She likes her lonely life on the Nocturne. She’s fiercely independent. A man wouldn’t fit that picture.” He might or might not have spent some thought on the topic. “She’s very… very honourable, very committed to whatever she does. I don’t think she’s the kind of woman to have casual sex.”

“You mean she’s not a slut like you,” Micah piqued in, grinning. Without losing a beat, Qui-Gon used just a touch of Force to tip his mug, causing some scalding hot tea to spill on Micah, who shrieked like a little girl. Very satisfying. “I think she’s more the monogamous, steady relationship kind. And since she often takes… Dangerous jobs, I think she’s hesitant to drag anyone into her life.”

Tahl raised both eyebrows in skepticism, and Qui-Gon felt the need to defend Thera’s stance. “She’s very honourable, I told you.” Thera came from a pretty peaceful planet, and even if she had spent a lot of time in the military, she still had a different concept of danger from a Jedi, who made it a point to seek peace and happiness wherever they could exactly because their lives were so dangerous.

Tahl seemed to ponder it, almost draining her cup - her ability to drink something so scalding without so much as batting an eyelash always left Qui-Gon in awe. “Yeah, I can see it,” she eventually said, evidently coming to a conclusion. “I like her.” Tahl raised her mug in a toast. “I approve of Thera Pardalis. She’ll be good for you.”

Micah copied her, and Qui-Gon clinked his mug with theirs, feeling at the same time pleased and miffed. Thera meant a lot to him, so he was glad his closest friends liked her, but at the same there was the nagging feeling that it was none of their business, dammit!

The three drink their tea in silence, and Qui-Gon mulled over his friends’ words. Was his friendship with Thera really that out of character for him? He tried to examine the past few years of his life critically, like a stranger might, and had to concede that he had been quite withdrawn on the social point of view.

Oh, things had gotten better since Telos - his lowest point had been six months after Xanatos’ betrayal, when his depression had almost gotten him killed - but if compared to how he had been before… Yeah.

Making a mental tally of his friends, there was no denying that there had been a drastic drop in their numbers. Considering he had never been an extrovert who easily made friends… His social life when not on mission had pretty much rotated around Tahl and Micah.

Thera was… Thera was just so easy to be around. She was witty, honourable, interesting. She didn’t treat him any different from any other man just because of his lightsaber. She was a competent mission partner, and just as fun as a sparring partner. Qui-Gon regretted a bit that their lives didn’t allow them to meet more often - though they tried to make up for that with comcalls and texts.

Qui-Gon turned his empty mug in his hands, tracing the smooth edge of it with his thumb as he tried to find the right words. “Would it have been so bad? If I had been in love with her?” He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m not, I swear. But… if I were.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Tahl and Micah were looking at him - he’d heard their started intake of breath. Tahl was the one who got over her surprise faster, and she laid a small hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder. She ran a few degrees hotter than him, and he could feel her warmth even through his clothing. “Xanatos burned you pretty badly. It’s good that you’re reaching out of your shell, but love…”

Micah bumped shoulders with Qui-Gon, his sympathy palpable in the Force. “Would you be able to love without attachment?” He asked, his voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Qui-Gon had never fallen in love. He loved his friends like siblings, and he’d loved Xanatos like a son - and if parental love had brought him so low, what could romantic love do to him? “I don’t know,” he answered, feeling a bit lost. It wasn’t a question he’d ever asked himself.

Micah and Tahl, one on either side of him, both leaned in to lay a kiss on his hair. “Well, you’re not going to be alone in this. Don’t you try to do this on your own, Qui.”

Qui-Gon nodded and smiled.

#my drabble #therapardalis

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dolphincraftltd · 4 years

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Important Guide to Designing Your Office

The method we utilize our houses is transforming. Whether you run your own business, job freelance, have children that need somewhere to examine and browse the net or need an area to keep top of personal admin, a home office space is a necessary addition to any type of modern home.

' It's all about utilizing your house in a different method,' claims Judith Tugman of Designer Your Home. 'I get actual satisfaction from working as well as going to residence. I like the reality that I can make myself a suitable mug of coffee, placed the cleaning on as well as take pleasure in the view whenever I feel like it.'

Much more budget-friendly computers, faster internet link and also the development of Wi-Fi imply it's currently also much easier to attach to the outside world, however it's still critical that you plan your workplace effectively.

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The perfect office need to look just as good as the rest of your residence, but, naturally, be sensible, ergonomic as well as functional, also.

Resting Conveniently

When working from home, it is very important to bear in mind some basic functional designs. Resting terribly can elevate the tons on your back discs virtually 200 percent, compared to standing. Flexing onward for a very long time is likewise harmful, so a great chair is a smart investment (attempt Vitra for style classics or, if you're on a spending plan, Ikea). BCA chiropractor Tim Hutchful has this guidance:

Make sure you sit back into your chair so your back is supported. Knees ought to be slightly less than hips, to put your back into a neutral placement.

Adhere to a desk-top computer as opposed to a laptop as it has a screen at eye degree. If you have a laptop computer, buy a stand so the screen goes to eye level to stop you stooping (you'll also require a USB keyboard).

Having your arms sustained will certainly take the stress off your neck and shoulders. If you can not, keep in mind to take normal breaks (five mins every 40 minutes).

Analyze your needs

Regardless of just how large or small your area, it is necessary to plan meticulously. Before you begin, sit down and make a detailed list of things you are likely to need and exactly how you are mosting likely to use your workplace.

Consider that will be making use of the workplace - will it just be you, or your family members also? Are you utilizing it for company or purely for personal admin? Are you going to welcome clients right into the area? Are you mosting likely to be functioning by yourself or will the office requirement to suit one more individual?

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What equipment are you likely to require? A computer system, printer and also telephone are one of the most standard demands of any kind of workplace, but you could also find you need further items, such as a fax machine, scanner or laptop computer docking terminal.

Will you need shelving for recommendation product such as publications and also publications, or area to archive documents or past tasks? Designers might require strategy chests, or you may need lockable cupboards for expensive or delicate tools. Always overstate the amount of storage space you think you'll need.

Obtain the light right. Poor lights can cause eye stress as well as if the environment is flat, it can make you much less effective. Preferably you need lots of all-natural daytime, preferably from home windows, not skylights. Extra general illumination will certainly additionally decrease strong contrasts.

Just how do you intend to provide the space? Should it look cool and organized, or modern and also creative?

Super Small Places

If you just use your computer or workdesk for short durations each time, after that you might be able to accommodate a workdesk and chair in a repetitive nook such as a hallway, touchdown or under the stairs. Lengthy corridors usually have great deals of potential for storage room in the type of floor-to-ceiling shelving. An option is to stash your workplace essentials in a purpose-built cabinet. A well-designed system can conveniently house a COMPUTER or laptop, as well as when the work is ended up, the whole great deal can be closed away hidden.

For a bespoke design, go to ratedtradesmen.co.uk to discover a joiner that can customize a space to your exact requirements.

Conversely choose a cool, free standing office-in-a-box or a bureau that you can take with you when you relocate. 'Well-thought-out storage space is naturally, a crucial part of any workplace,' says Judith Tugman. 'It's vital to be able to access tools and also files conveniently, and whatever must have its very own space. Yet I do assume that when you have completed functioning, every little thing needs to then be stashed nicely so it does not come to be a continuous component of your life.'

Dual Function Rooms

Whether it's a workdesk hid in a peaceful room, a laptop computer established in the cooking area or a job station in a living-room, this sort of home office needs to incorporate effortlessly right into its environments.

Take a fallen leave out of cook and full time mum Sophie Conran's book - she has an open-plan home, which likewise acts as an office. A lengthy table provides a lot of desk area, and also a financial institution of unobtrusive Vitsoe shelving ensures her reference library of publications as well as magazines are all to hand, in addition to all her declaring. When clients check out your house, the oversized dining table additionally increases up as someplace to convene.

Devoted office

If you work at house on a permanent basis and also have tons of work-related paraphernalia, then devoting a whole space to the reason is a sensible plan, as a cramped workplace can end up being dismal and counter-productive. Consider converting an extra bed room and even the attic, both of which are typically rather separated from the center of your house, which suggests a serene and also quiet workplace - especially handy if you've got youngsters around.

' We have great deals of clients that intend to convert a bed room or tiny area right into a research study,' states Daniel Nelson of Vitsoe, whose flexible 606 shelving system, developed in the Sixties by Dieter Ram, is a style classic. 'In this sort of situation, we constantly attempt to motivate people to construct upwards with their storage as opposed to sidewards (which is what people often tend to do). By doing this you can take advantage of a reasonably little room.' For alternative super-slick storage and also home-office solutions, Hülsta, Neville Johnson and Hammonds can all fit out a room with bespoke office furnishings.

Yard Workplaces

If you're a house worker who simply can not press an office right into your existing room but have room outdoors to save, it might deserve buying a separate structure.

In order to see to it your outdoor office carries out all year round, it deserves asking an expert for guidance. Connect with Riba for a list of certified architects in you area. Additionally, speak to a professional business such as The Yard Escape. Architecturally backed, they can provide a completely designated framework that meets all building law requirements, including attaching electrics approximately your property, mounting and also networking the phone line and broadband in an ultra-fast 2 weeks from start to finish. They can also install bathrooms, bathrooms as well as showers if you require them. Rates begin at around ₤ 17, 500 (and also keep in mind, if you're self employed after that occupational expenditures are tax exempt).

Currently for the scientific research little bit

When working at house, a really speedy internet connection is leading of most individuals's shopping list. If you're running an organization from residence as well as have other individuals working with you, you might likewise require to network Computers as well as printers in order to share data. If computer science was never ever your best subject, companies such as Geeks on Tires and also The Mac Dad can not just assist you set up your wireless network, back up your information and even just obtain your printer working once more, but can also encourage on the devices you will certainly need and also even provide it - a true blessing for technophobes almost everywhere.

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