"Her feet are nicely coiffed,” Ton Phanan idly remarked.

He and Wes were wandering around one of Coruscant’s classier levels, each one decked out in impeccable looking uniforms.

“They are. It does wonders for those Bothans.”

“Councillor Fey’lya should follow her example,” Ton said. He shuddered. “Force knows he could use a good coiffing. He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ton glanced at his companion, only to find Wes nowhere in sight.

A brief search found Wes clutching a tightly folded and rolled piece of cloth bound with a plastic sheath. The look on Janson’s face was one of rapture and longing. He looked positively childlike.

“Oooooh, I want this…” he breathed.

“What is it?” Ton asked, raising his fleshy eyebrow.

“A Blanket. I need a new one.”

“Since when did New Republic pilots have Security Blankets? And didn’t your last blankie get spaced shortly after the Battle of Endor?”

“Yeah, it…Waaaaiiiiit a minute. How did you know?”

“Um…you know how rumours fly around,” Ton said with a shrug. “Does it matter?”

“It does. I never knew who did it.” Wes’ eyes narrowed. “Who told you?”

“I’m not telling. Are you really sure it’s wise to buy a new one, after what happened to the old one?”

Wes’ eyes brightened and Ton heaved a sigh that he fell for the subject change. Wedge would kill him if he ever found out Wes found out that the Commander spaced the beloved blankie.

“Oh yeah.” Wes’ voice was wistful.

“I never understood the appeal of one of these thing,” Ton muttered, handling another wrapped blanket.

Wes grabbed the unwrapped test blanket and held it out to Ton. “You haven’t cuddled with the snugly yet, have you?”

Ton once more raised a brow and shook his head. “Wes, I think this time you’re going to be the one spaced.”

Back to Challenge 17