Shmi and Anakin's home exuded a comforting, lived-in warmth, though you found the heat a bit more than your liking. The humble space was filled with the scent of spices and the faint hum of sand filters, giving it an earthy charm. Jar Jar, predictably, was an agent of chaos. He flailed and stumbled his way through the small house, narrowly avoiding smashing a precious-looking clay vase while Padmé—ever graceful and composed—trailed behind him, her expression a careful mask of patience. You couldn't help but smirk. The Queen's insistence that Padmé accompany you everywhere was peculiar, but you'd learned to roll with strange requests. If even your Six Eyes weren't bothered, you weren't about to lose sleep over it.

The gentle knock at your door barely registered as you combed through your damp, white hair, dripping water onto the towel wrapped around your waist. The room was quiet save for the occasional sound of the sandstorm rattling outside, and you relished the rare moment of solitude. That peace, however, lasted about three seconds.

"Are you having fun?" Obi-Wan's voice carried a teasing lilt as he stepped into your room, but it abruptly trailed off.

You turned your head slowly, catching his wide-eyed expression as he froze mid-stride. You were seated cross-legged on the small cot, your hair cascading over your bare shoulders, a light white bra the only thing covering your upper half. Water droplets clung to your skin, glistening like tiny stars against your porcelain complexion. The towel wrapped around your waist wasn't doing much to help the situation, and Obi-Wan's face went through about three shades of red in as many seconds.

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. "Having fun?" you echoed, your voice smooth and playful. "Well, I was until you barged in without knocking."

"I—uh—" Obi-Wan stumbled over his words, his usual Jedi calm utterly shattered. His gaze darted everywhere except at you, which was difficult considering the very limited places in the small room. "I didn't realize— I should've— I'll just—"

You smirked, leaning back slightly, fully aware of the effect you were having. "Relax, Obi-Wan. It's just skin. Or are Jedi afraid of a little humanity?"

He cleared his throat, his composure struggling to catch up with him. "Jedi are not afraid," he said firmly, though his voice cracked just a bit at the end. "I just—didn't expect—you should have locked the door."

You laughed, light and airy, leaning forward just enough to make him even more flustered. "Oh, come on, Master Kenobi. What's the harm in a little casual vulnerability?"

"I—this isn't—" He finally forced himself to look directly at you, his face still red but his voice more steady now. "This isn't appropriate."

You rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing a dry robe from the chair beside you and slipping it over your shoulders. "Alright, alright, don't short-circuit. I'm decent now." You tied the sash loosely around your waist, your smirk never leaving your face. "So, what was it you needed? Or were you just here to gawk?"

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe the moment from his memory. "I came to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner," he said stiffly, regaining some semblance of his usual composure.

You stepped closer to him, the playful glint in your eyes making him tense slightly. "Dinner, huh? Sure, let me just finish drying my hair." You paused, leaning in just enough to make him squirm one last time. "But next time? Knock first. Unless you want to see something you can't unsee."

Obi-Wan practically fled the room, muttering something about sandstorms and meditation. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you went back to your hair. It wasn't every day you got to ruffle the feathers of a Jedi Knight.

-

Dinner in Shmi's small home was, in a word, quaint. The table was crowded with mismatched dishes, filled with a mix of the humble foods that Tatooine had to offer. Roasted rodents—something Anakin cheerfully referred to as "womp rat skewers"—took center stage. Their charred edges glistened in the dim light, and while they looked thoroughly cooked, the idea of eating them made you hesitate. The blue milk, served in dented cups, had a sour tang that lingered a bit too long on your tongue. You nursed it slowly, trying not to grimace.

Bantha meat, heavily salted and seasoned to mask its natural gaminess, wasn't much better. Still, your stomach growled in protest, and hunger overrode your delicate sensibilities. You ate carefully, each bite a small victory over the odd textures and alien flavors.

But Shmi's soup—that was a revelation.

Rich and hearty, it was a simple concoction of locally grown vegetables and fragrant herbs, yet it carried a warmth that seemed to soothe every corner of your being. You savored it, letting the flavors linger on your tongue, and couldn't help but smile as you caught Shmi glancing at you from across the table, her expression a mix of pride and relief.

"Good soup," you said softly, nodding in approval. Shmi's tired face lit up briefly, and Anakin beamed as if her success in the kitchen was a triumph for them both.

Jar Jar, on the other hand, was an utter disaster. He managed to spill his blue milk not once, but twice, his long ears accidentally dipping into his bowl of soup like ladles. "Oh, mesa sorry, mesa clumsy!" he exclaimed, flailing to fix the mess, only to send a skewer of womp rat flying across the table. It landed squarely on Obi-Wan's plate, much to his visible dismay.

You couldn't hold back your laughter at the way Obi-Wan's face twisted in barely concealed frustration, his Jedi calm sorely tested by the chaos around him. Qui-Gon, ever the stoic, simply leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable but for the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"An experience, isn't it?" you teased Obi-Wan, raising your cup of blue milk in a mock toast.

Obi-Wan gave you a withering look, then sighed, his gaze dropping to his now "decorated" plate. "It's... something," he muttered, gingerly nudging the offending skewer aside with his fork.

Despite the strange food and Jar Jar's antics, the meal felt oddly cozy, a rare moment of camaraderie in the midst of your strange journey. You couldn't help but feel a small pang of gratitude for the warmth of Shmi's home, even as the sandstorm outside howled its relentless fury.

Anakin's excitement practically spilled over, filling the modest home with a crackling energy. "Do you want to see the podracer I built?" he asked, practically bouncing in his chair. His tone was so eager, it was like he'd been holding back this question for hours, maybe his whole life, and now it was finally free.

Shmi let out a long-suffering sigh, the kind only a mother could perfect. "Ani, please," she said, her voice even but firm. "No nonsense."

The boy's face twisted into a pout, his brow furrowing in frustration. "But Mom," he protested, his voice rising in pitch, "it's not nonsense! I built it myself!" His hands flew into the air for emphasis, as though this alone could convince her of the gravity of his achievement. "It's the fastest podracer on Tatooine!" he added, puffing up his chest.

Shmi closed her eyes briefly, clearly summoning reserves of patience she'd already spent years depleting. Turning to Qui-Gon, she spoke with quiet, almost pleading seriousness. "I don't like those races with the speeders," she admitted, shaking her head slightly. "They're dangerous. Half the people who enter them don't make it out alive."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and grim, but Anakin's enthusiasm refused to be dimmed. He crossed his arms and jutted his chin out, defiance written across his young face. "That's not going to happen to me," he said confidently, his voice brimming with unshakable belief. "I'm a great pilot—I can handle it."

Qui-Gon tilted his head, studying the boy with an inscrutable expression, one that seemed to carry an almost imperceptible glimmer of curiosity. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "there's more to this podracer of yours than meets the eye." His calm words seemed to grant the moment a weight it hadn't carried before.

You leaned back slightly, observing the exchange with a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I don't know," you said lightly, your tone teasing. "If it's as fast as you say, Anakin, maybe you'd better show us, so we can see it for ourselves."

Anakin's face lit up with unbridled joy, his pout vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. "Really? You'll come see it?" he asked, his voice almost cracking with excitement.

Shmi groaned softly, her hands finding her hips as she cast you a knowing, weary glance. "I suppose there's no stopping him now," she said, exhaling with resigned affection.

"Don't worry, Shmi," you replied with a grin. "We'll keep him out of trouble... probably."

-

The podracer was, in a word, impressive. Sure, it was a bit rough around the edges, with exposed wires and a few panels that looked like they'd been hastily patched together, but for a nine-year-old? It was practically a miracle of engineering. Twin engines loomed like gleaming metal behemoths, and the cockpit, though clearly built from salvaged scraps, had a strange, scrappy elegance. You couldn't help but smile, brushing your fingers across one of the polished turbine casings.

"You built this?" you asked, giving Anakin an incredulous look.

He beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. "Yep! All by myself. It's fast—faster than anything else on Tatooine!"

Before you could respond, the sound of small, shuffling footsteps caught your attention. You turned to see a little Rodian girl cautiously approaching, her oversized glasses sliding down her nose. She paused, her green skin glowing faintly under the harsh Tatooine sunlight as she nervously adjusted her glasses.

"Well, hello there," you said warmly, crouching slightly to meet her at eye level. Your voice was as smooth as ever, with just the slightest playful lilt to put her at ease. The girl fidgeted, her small hands clasping and unclasping nervously, but eventually, she managed a shy smile.

"You're a Rodian, aren't you?" you asked, tilting your head curiously. "My brother taught me all about the different species in the galaxy. Said Rodians are some of the best sharpshooters out there. Is that true?"

The girl's eyes widened behind her glasses, and she nodded vigorously, her previous shyness momentarily forgotten. "Uh-huh! My papa says so too!" she said, her voice small but proud.

Anakin, not one to be upstaged, chimed in. "She's one of my best friends! She's super smart—helps me fix stuff all the time."

"Well, with friends like her, no wonder your podracer looks this good," you said, giving the Rodian girl a wink. She giggled, and you couldn't help but notice how much lighter the air felt around her.

Obi-Wan, who'd been inspecting the podracer from a distance, glanced over, arching a brow. "Making friends wherever you go, I see," he quipped dryly.

"Of course," you shot back with a grin. "It's called diplomacy, Obi-Wan. You should try it sometime."

The little Rodian giggled again, and even Obi-Wan had to suppress a smirk. The moment felt warm and simple, a rare reprieve from the chaos that had brought you all to this dusty planet.

-

As the twin suns began to set over the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand, Shmi called everyone inside. The warm glow of the setting sun spilled into the home, urging you to make your way back inside. You waved goodbye to the little Rodian girl, who shyly waved back before retreating into the shadows of her home.

When you stepped into the house, the sound of Jar Jar's voice caught your attention. He was talking animatedly to what looked like an R2 droid, its blue panels gleaming faintly in the dim light.

"Well, hello there," you said, your tone light and playful, as you approached the pair. The droid beeped and whirred in response, its metal body swiveling slightly to acknowledge your presence. You crouched down in front of it, giving it a warm smile. "You're cute too, little friend."

Jar Jar blinked in surprise, his long ears twitching comically. "You can understand it?" he asked, clearly astonished.

You nodded, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, I understand many, many things," you said cryptically.

You gave him a sidelong glance over the rim of your sunglasses, the lenses catching the fading light and casting a cool reflection. "Many things," you repeated, letting the words hang in the air as you turned to leave, the sound of your soft footsteps echoing in the quiet room.

Jar Jar was left standing there, frozen in place, staring at the spot where you had just been. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He blinked a few times as if trying to process what had just happened.

Anakin, watching from the doorway, felt a pang of jealousy twist in his chest. He'd been watching you with a mixture of awe and admiration, but now, seeing you interact with the droid in such an effortlessly mysterious way, he couldn't help but feel a little envious. You weren't just an enigma—you were like an angel, a celestial being who seemed to understand things that no one else could. Your ability to connect with the universe, even through a simple interaction with a droid, only made you seem more untouchable, more otherworldly.

He sighed quietly to himself, realizing he'd never quite be able to figure you out—but that was exactly what made you so fascinating to him.