He won't guess, or at least not right away. Sith don't usually work together this well, even if he guesses I taught you something.

And then, yes, food. She takes a bite of hers - quite tasty, with a surprising depth of flavor from the unfamiliar citrus - but then waits to see if he needs help with his own before continuing.

He takes a bite of his. It takes a few tries, using his wrong hand alone for it. (There's an itch of grief and humiliation that he tries not to dwell on.)

The instant burn of the spice is reassuring – it's intense and unnecessary flavor, something he wouldn't have gotten in the cell. Whatever that citrus is is good, too, and the two aren't as hard to pick apart as he would have thought.

By the time he's gotten the fork to his mouth, she's worked out how to use him as a conduit, guiding her telekinesis with his hand rather than her own; she has to pay a little attention to it, but fork and hand both will move as he expects them to, now, just as fluidly as if it was his dominant hand.

...huh.

It's just on the edge of being uncomfortable – it's like when they move each other, but it's different enough to notice, more like her holding his hand with hers and moving it for him.

He's not sure if it's okay. He thinks it is, for now.

You'll have your other one back soon, she soothes. And I'll stop, if you want.

okay. yeah. i will.

He takes a few more bites, and then sets the fork down.

(It's fine. He just needs a minute.)

She takes another one, and then, for show: "Hmm?"

"...glad I don't have to get too used to this."

He waves his remaining hand.

"Ah, yeah. Soon."

He makes his second attempt after a minute, and it goes better. Partially because between bites he’s adding more diving to their counterfactual vacation plans.

He's so good, she loves him so much.

It's quite the elaborate counterfactual vacation, by the time the waiter comes with the dessert menu.

“...if we’ve got sixty cakes, is dessert too much?”

"Mm, let's at least see what they have."

They have pastries, of course, and also a variety of things to pair with them - various flavors of sherbet, sweet sauces to drizzle or dip, fruit, candy.

Pradnakt wants to try a little scoop of sherbet, just by itself; that's not offered, exactly, on the menu, but she's sure they'll let her do it anyway.

Eating pastries feels like a bad idea considering the critical mass of cake that awaits them.

He will definitely eat sherbet vicariously through her, though. Or even some himself.

Fair enough. Sherbet for her and another pot of tea for the both of them, then.

What do you want to do next? Music, a play, something like that? We might be able to find a poetry reading.

There’s the lurch in his stomach again, out of nowhere.

(When the pattern breaks, something terrible happens. When the pattern doesn’t break, something terrible happens anyway.)

music, maybe? but a concert might not be the best idea. specially if there’s not a clear line to the exit.

Essence of nervous laughter.

She's not going to let anything happen to him. There's no Sith on this planet - she checks, again, on reflex, not that she expects to have missed one showing up - and nothing can touch her. He's safe - they're safe - by strength and skill alone, but they are.

But that's not the problem, is it, she remembers, coming back to herself. Being safe is important; feeling safe is, too.

We can find something that isn't too crowded. What she has in mind is nothing like a concert: a little bar with a live band, maybe. I can check before we even go in.

...yeah. that sounds good to me.

And it helps that she's so sure of their safety, too.

She's very sure of their safety. (It's so good to be free.)

She's carefully polite to the waiter when he brings her dessert, and eats quickly, and then they can go. She pauses outside the restaurant to give him a tight hug, first thing.

Hugs. Hugs are good.

Yes. She snuggles him in the back of the speeder to the entertainment district, too, the two of them piled together on one side of the bench, Daisy on the other.

Once they get there, she extends her senses, carefully - here of all places it's overwhelming, with not just the usual city's density of people going about their lives, but one crowd already enjoying a concert, their synchronized emotions permeating the area, and two more contributing their own excitement as they wait for their entertainment to start. She pauses, leaning against a wall, to adjust to it, let it fade into the background so that she can focus on more subtle things.

Oh.

It's overwhelming, but it's gorgeous – he finds himself reaching out for it, wanting to meld into it.

(He could. That many minds, that many voices, all moving at once...he could just disappear.)

We could. It's not the kind of thing she'd even consider, usually, but she sees what he sees in it, feels his feelings about it; it doesn't feel unsafe, just unintuitive. Need to find someplace safe to stay, first. If you want.

yeah. let's try it. might be good to be somewhere else tonight.