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He liked to stroll through the empty dormitory hallways. They were peaceful, yes, but filled with so much promise. Who knew what the new school year would bring?

He paused in front of a large window and surveyed the grounds. In the distance the miners' tents were a mottled white against the dark green of the Rugby pitch. Closer was the Administration Building, the Gymnasium and pool. He watched the Chinese paper lanterns flutter in a gentle breeze and, with his heightened Jedi senses, he could just make out the shape of a lei at the bottom of the pool. His lips curved in fond remembrance of the weekend's Labor Day Luau. The grrls laughing, squabbling, teasing, joking. Attention lovingly given and taken... Considering the amount of sunscreen Laure had applied -- and applied, and applied -- he could have stood buck naked, in the middle of the Tatooine outback, at high noon, both suns blazing down upon him, and not pinkened in the slightest. He might have said something sooner, and saved at least one bottle of the lotion, but it had felt so good.

And, if it feels good, do it!

He laughed aloud. A few years ago, had someone told him that he would have been at the center of so much hedonism, he'd have suggested that they'd spent too much time under those Tatooine suns, but now... He folded his arms across his chest and unconsciously shifted into a very satisfied Stance.

 From his vantage point the campus looked almost serene. If he concentrated, however, he could easily make out the whine of the buzzsaws, the Nurse, and the Mediator, but he tuned those sounds out and concentrated on the birdsong and the laughter. Lord of all he surveyed...? No. Just one lucky bastard who'd had the great good fortune of being elected lover of all he surveyed. Life was--

Movement flashed in the corner of his eyes, interrupting his musings, and he turned in time to see one of the small, furry gardeners sail over a low shrub. It bounced twice before rolling to a stop at the base of one of the tall trees that lined the walkway. With furrowed brow, he watched as the little creature lay still, legs akimbo against the trunk. Concerned, he drew back from the glass to rush to the Ewok's aid, but it stirred, leapt to its feet, shook its head, and scurried back into the depths of the garden.

Puzzled, he waited at the window in case of a repeat performance. As moments passed uninterrupted, his concentration drifted like a lazy bee from the roses below, to the vine growing along the edge of the window frame. He fell easily into meditative contemplation of a delicate Star Jasmine blossom, opened to the sun, its petals seemingly as soft and delicate as the skin of one of his grrls' inner thi--

He sneezed.

Reeling back, he clapped his hands to his nose and mouth and helplessly let go with another hearty sneeze. Head bowed, he blinked, then froze, his watering eyes caught by a steady, mischievous feline gaze. Amber-eyed and neatly poised, the orange tabby grinned up at the General with, "Gotcha" written all over its self-satisfied, bewhiskered face.

The connection broke as the cat's head swiveled toward the sound of running feet. When the cry of "Orlando!" came floating up the stairs, the apparent owner of that name darted off. Kenobi, histamines playing havoc with his senses, turned toward the sound too late and too sluggishly to react when the young woman tripped on the last step and crashed into him. They went down in a heap of tangled legs, curses, and one more heart-stopping sneeze.

The woman pushed herself up with a string of apologies, but her concern and attention was directed toward the playful streak of orange chasing dust bunnies down the hall. "Orlando, c'mere sweetie-boy," she pleaded, but to no avail.

As soon as the woman climbed off of him, Kenobi rolled over onto his side, and sent his mind out toward the giddy feline. Pushing past the muddled and excitable "Woo hoo! I'm a CAT!" thoughts, he gently, but firmly commanded Orlando to return to his mistress.

"Oh. Good boy," the woman cooed, crawling toward the strutting cat. She hurriedly scooped him up, stood, and held him close. Over the physical and verbal protestation of the now struggling Orlando, she sent a sincerely apologetic look at the man regaining his feet next to her. "I'm so sor--oh man!"

At the whimpering groan, the General looked up into a pair of wide, horrified hazel eyes. It took but a moment to realize that it was him that was causing her distress. Straightening, he automatically sought to assure her, and struggled to remember her name. It finally occurred to him that he didn't know it, not because he'd forgotten it, but because he'd never seen this woman before. "You must be one of the new students?" he finally asked.

"Uh. Yea," she grinned. "Guilty." Shifting the squirming cat to one arm, she quickly held out a hand. "I'm Tara."

"Yes, of course," he grasped the proffered hand. "Laure sponsored you, did she not? I remember her speaking to Emmy regarding your application. Tar-ah." He tested the name and smiled.

She barely controlled a shiver hearing her name coming from that mouth for the very first time. Reluctantly, she released his hand. "Uhm, yes. Laure and I've been friends for a couple of years. I left Sunnyhell, shortly before she accepted a position here. We kept in touch and when I needed a place to call home and continue my studies, she suggested HSU. I, of course, fell on the idea gratefully."

"HSU is a good place to call 'home,' Tara, and, I hope find what you need here."

She shifted, more than a little uncomfortable that he seemed to see right through her. Mirroring her discomfort, Orlando yowled.

"Wow," she laughed. "I'm sorry. I need to get him back to my room."

"Please," Kenobi responded with a gesture that suggested she lead the way. He turned his head for a moment, stifling another sneeze. Drawing on Jedi breathing exercises he forced the histamines to back off, just a little.

"You're allergic?" she asked as they started down the stairs.

"I'm afraid so."

"But, Judy introduced me to Sugar, and I could swear she said she was yours."

"Yes... Well, Sugar is as *mine* as any cat can belong to a person," he smiled. As any female around here can belong to any man, he thought. "She is her own cat and she allows me to admire her. Unfortunately, I must admire her from a distance. But, I believe that Judy and the other grrls more than make up for what attention I cannot give."

"I couldn't stand it," she said firmly. "I don't know what I'd do if I was suddenly allergic. They're my kids, you know?"

"'They're'?" He arched a brow.

"Uhm. Yea. Sorry. This is my boy, Orlando, and Misse is my girl." She grinned sheepishly. "They're my babies, I'm afraid. I'm absolutely silly about them. Ellie said that I could let them run around the dorm and they'd be fine, but I'm not ready for that."

Clearing the last landing, they headed down the hall toward her room.

"You've a quiet corner here, hmm?" he asked as she opened the door on the sunny single. A black and grey tabby mewled plaintively in welcome.

Releasing Orlando to Misse's grumpily attentive ministrations, she turned to Kenobi and smiled. "Yes. Kymira was marvelously helpful. I guess it helps that she's Laure's Padawan." She grinned cheerfully. "No matter where you are, it's who you know, right?" Without waiting for his response, she continued. "Uhm? Are you sure you want to come in here? With two cats who've had nearly a day to dander up the place?"

He hesitated, then reached into a pocket, and smiled. "The breathing exercises will help until these," he held up a vial, "can take affect."

She handed him a bottle of water from off her desk, knocking over a small, thin tin can that he caught effortlessly.

"What's this?" he asked, holding out the container.

"Oil," she said, taking it from him with a grateful smile. His eyes questioned her over the top of the water bottle. She watched the strong muscles of his throat cord, then relax as he swallowed the anti-histamines. "It's a component for a ritual I'm studying."

"Ritual? Oh, yes," he nodded, "you're the one studying Xenoethnography, specifically archaic rituals."

She fought it hofully, but she glowed a little around the edges that he'd remembered something about her. "Yes," she answered more seriously. "So many cultures disappear and their belief systems and practices are lost. Studying them, and archiving that information so that future generations might learn from them, is what I want to do." On a roll, she continued, "You never know what will be lost. I mean, take for example your Jedi practices. It's possible that the Jedi will be with us forever, but they could just as easily become no more than myth in the next thousand, one hundred... or even... *thirty-two* years!"

He smothered a grin at her obvious exaggeration. "It sounds like you've found your calling," he responded.

"Yes... Although... Sometimes I think it would be fun to write for the Holonet." Her grin was quick and teasing. "But, I'll need a day job."

He chuckled. "Yes, I did hear something about a script...?"

She blushed. "Oh, that's just a goof, really. I wrote a quick 'puke' draft..." A startled look crossed her face, before she burst out laughing. Catching his blank look, she sobered, "Uhm... no pun intended," then grinned again. "Anyway. I threw *out* a rough draft of Act I, and got back some notes. I need to sit down and do some serious re-writing. Faulty research. I misunderstood the layout of HSU and thought you had a temple here." She shrugged apologetically.

"Ah. No. Not here," he grinned, but added no further details.

There was a small embarrassed silence.

"If you'd like to ask--"

"You don't have to tell--"

"Sorry, plea--

"Sorr--"

They laughed together, breaking the ice once and for all.

"Please," he insisted. "What were you going to say?"

"Just that I'm nosy by nature," she smiled. "And you mustn't feel pressured to give up any great Jedi secrets."

He smiled and bowed. "In the interest of those future generations, I will gladly answer any questions that I can. If I can help your studies in any way, please let me know."

"Thank--" She stopped suddenly, a thoughtful look crossing her face, then settling in to stay.

"What is it?"

"Well..."

"Yes?"

"I've been working on a paper."

"Yes?"

She jiggled the little oil canister between them. "On display rituals amongst late 20th century males. Specifically those rituals involving..." Reaching across her desk she picked up glass shaker that seemed to be half filled with a gold substance. "Glitter."

"And you'd like me to help you by...?"

"By performing one of the rituals I've been studying." Setting down the oil and glitter, she picked up a notebook. "See? I've got very detailed descriptions of rites that haven't been performed in recent memory." She looked up from the notebook. "And that's the problem I'm having. I can see it, but I can't *see* it. Get it?"

He blinked. When the words settled in, he smiled. "You'd like me to perform this..." He glanced back down at the notebook she held. "'TV Eye' ceremony for you?"

"Would you?" Hope warred with excitement, until giddy joy sneaked through.

"Of course," he grinned back caught up in her enthusiasm. "Although," he looked at a clock on her nightstand. "I'm nearly late for an appointment at the Dean's office now..."

"Oh, no," she assured quickly. "I'll get an appointment through Kendra. I've got to go over to the Admin Building in a little while, actually." She held up her hands and began ticking off her to-do list. "I've got to turn in my inoculation records to Nurse Darry, and then meet Laure to go over my class schedule. She's taking me to meet Emmy for a quick campus orientation. Then I'm supposed to see if Dor is available to show me around the library; over to the gym so Jen can show me around there. Then, since Kendra's also allergic to cats, we agreed to meet at the bar so she and Judy could introduce me to Julia and Sere, who, apparently can give me the lowdown on HSU. Hopefully, some of the other new grrls will turn up." She paused and took a breath. "Then I've got blaster practice."

His brows arched in surprise, "Blaster--"

"--Practice," she finished. "Yes. I'm writing my Master's thesis on polishing rituals amongst the Heavy Blastermen. Major Sharpe, the new professor of Military History, is my thesis advisor."

"How... wonderful." When did we get a professor of Military History?

"Yes. I was quite fortunate to be accepted to HSU at such a time," she said as she gathered her notebooks, records, and class schedules into her backpack. "To have the opportunity to take the General Relations curriculum under General Obi-Wan Kenobi, himself" she grinned and sent a flourishing hand in his direction and he sketched a courtly bow in response. "And, I can work under Major Sharpe, an expert in the field of Heavy Blasters." Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

He reached out and opened the door, holding it for her. Glancing down as she passed, he noticed something on the toe of her clog. "You seem to have something stuck there," he said, pointing.

She quickly brushed what appeared to be a small patch of Ewok fur free of the suede. "Huh. Must've picked it up while walking through the rose garden."

"It is a beautiful garden, isn't it? The Ewoks do a marvelous job."

"Oh yes, marvelous."

"Cal is a great help, I believe."

"Cal?" Her brow furrowed, then cleared. "Ah, yes. The young man with the detachable braid?"

"Yes," Kenobi blushed. "Well, he's very eager."

"Yes, he is that.

"He seems sweet enough." They walked through the doorway and into the sun. "Quiet. But I think he's just terribly shy, and not quiet in that annoying way some boys go for, y'know?" She shrugged as though she could shrug the memory of those boys away once and for all. "All... mysterious like, or, uhm... what's that word?"

"Intangible?"

"No..." She frowned, shaking her head. "That's not quite right... You know, slippey-like, evasive..."

"Elusive?"

She smiled. Oh, man. Judy, Laure and Kendra hadn't exaggerated one whit. "Oh, yea," she sighed and looked toward the sky. "That's the word." Now if only it would rain.