Carrying her new purse made of the softest leather ever created, dyed a vibrant red and adorned with her initials in gold on the clasp, Laure strolled up the walkway to the front door of the administration building. She watched as Sere and Julia hurried off to their dark room, and hoped that there wouldn't be any incriminating pictures of her being fed shrimp by the General in the next issue of the Tattler. She watched Dorotea pop skittles in her own mouth, having lost much of her wenchiness the farther they got from Coruscant. She watched the Diva pouting and scuffing the toes of her shoes along the walk.

She watched Kymira hanging onto the General's arm, talking his ear off and monopolizing his attention--her EA having retreated to the rugby field unnoticed.

Definitely time to take her assistant as her official Padawan Ho. The grrl had much potential, especially if one watched her blithely ignoring the death looks from the Diva.

They all disappeared inside the building and down the slippery halls. Just inside the door Laure handed her shawl to Edmund.

"I have numerous packages in the shuttle, Edmund."

"I shall see that they are delivered to your suite immediately madam," he replied in a soothing voice, then turned and shouted. "Baldrick!"

"Fine, just leave them in the outer office." The last thing she wanted was Baldrick stinking up her bedroom.

Wrinkling her nose as the unwashed servant skidded into view, Laure slid carefully over to the stairs and took the banister in a deathgrip. Ascending the stairs, she made her way to her suite, grateful that the second floor pipes hadn't burst, and wondering if the ones on the first floor had ever been fixed.

It would just be like some of the Ho's to get the pipes fixed AND keep the ice.

She was further surprised that Darry hadn't melted it with her purple lightening. Surely the ice was bringing her more business than she could want, considering that the Nurse spent much of her time in a very unNurse-like position.

Or was that positions?

Laure opened the door to her outer office and strolled through it to her inner sanctum. The door was cracked open and the lights were on. Frowning, she nudged the heavy wood farther open with the toe of one expensive leather pump. A voice droned forth.

"And, all these women make fun of me. I don't know why. Can you do something about that? Can you make them like me?"

"I'm not a miracle worker," Laure muttered, banging the door against the wall.

Eyes wide, face turning a rather unattractive puce color, Cal sat up on the couch he had been reclining on, and his braid fell off. "Miss Laure, um, ma'am," he stammered, scrabbling for the braid.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I had an appointment," he replied meekly, trying to reattach the braid with the bent paperclip.

"Not possible."

"Um...well..." He stood up, his knees shaking visibly. "I kind of pencilled myself in."

"Not a smart move." Laure put on her mediator's face and took his arm, guiding him none too gently to the door. "Cal, if you really have a problem with another person on campus, something you can't resolve between the two of you, then I will help, but I can't make people like you. I'm not a psychiatrist. I help people resolve their differences."

"Oh." He thought for a moment as she subtly pushed him into the outer office. "One of the Ewoks keeps peeing in my boots, can you mediate that?" He gave her a bright, hopeful smile.

Laure sighed. "I don't speak Ewok. Maybe Vocab can help."

Cal's face fell. "He just laughs." It brightened again. "Maybe you could mediate with me and Vocab."

"If you can get him to make an appointment, fine," she replied, sighing even heavier. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've had a long couple of days." She slammed the door in his face. "Sheesh."

Stalking through her office, Laure entered her semi-darkened bedroom and kicked off her shoes. In the light of the bedside lamp a slow smile crossed her face.

Laying on the bed, wearing the white leather armor she loved so much, a welcoming smile on his face and a bowl of grapes at his side, was her beloved RB.

"Welcome home, beloved," he purred.

Laure smiled in delight and reached for the note on the night stand. It was covered with gold stars.

Dear Laure:

Here's a little something (well, not so little) to welcome you home. I have the first appointment with the General, so I won't be missing Commo for a while.

Enjoy!

Shana

Laure set aside the note and joined the RB on the bed...

(and the rest is censored (G)

End