time passes all the same.

he's known feemor for two days, but if something happened to him, qui-gon would - well, he's unsure, though he gets the sense he'd mourn feemor already.

he tries not to compare those he knows now with others he knew then, but difficulty arises when so much of rael he can find in the master. elusive at times, both figures shared the crooked smile, the roguish air, the tendency to let him get away with decisions dooku would've given him a firm punishment over ( the same obi-wan simply frowns upon ).

qui-gon has no proof of it yet, but if the similarities continue beyond that, he'll have to heavily rely on the living force to even try and make himself a sabacc player anywhere near feemor's skill.

" not a curfew, " the padawan puts carefully, " master kenobi makes .. suggestions. gives advice. reminds me i shouldn't stay out too late if i have classes early the next morning. "

"Really? Good man." He finally learned, then. Feemor knew he'd take to being a Master eventually. The last apprentice just might've been a few years before Obi-Wan felt ready. And whose fault is that, he wonders. "Glad to hear you're using that to your advantage. You definitely don't have classes early tomorrow morning, right?"

Feemor doesn't wait for an answer, mostly because he knows full well he's not getting one. And Qui-Gon doesn't seem keen on wasting time, either; Feemor falls into step alongside him and guffaws with sheer and utter disbelief as he goes on.

" he is a respectable man, " oddly kind for any sort of politician. " a respectable man who generously allowed one of his properties to be the hosting place of this formal celebration. "

he gives feemor a Look, a dead giveaway whenever he's playing up details for the sake of preemptively running through their excuse when they're brought in in the morning before the council. the small smile - a knowing one - that sprouts from his lips as feemor immediately understands the play cannot be concealed ( nor does he attempt to ).

" we share the same thoughts, padawan, " something about lessons of yes-and'ing in the temple's theatre program. " you're wise and capable in the force, but there is much which can be learned only with practice. "

stepping back to allow feemor to get ready, he smooths out the front of his poncho, as a small reminder for the padawan to get his. " in the quarter of an hour. what do you think, too early? as i understand, this .. celebration will occur until the early morning, so we need not hurry. "

"One of his very expensive properties, I imagine," Feemor ventures a guess, brows arching. "Perhaps with a pool? A bar?"

He's been to his fair share of fancy parties, of course, if only to stand around and look somewhat respectable. That's the only reason Jedi get invited to social gatherings on Coruscant, it seems... or at least the only reason anybody would let their Padawan tag along. But a personal invitation? That sounds more promising, at least concerning their odds of actually having some fun.

"The Masters in the crèche always told me so." From his earliest days as an Initiate he was taught that no amount of instruction could replace the lessons he would learn alongside his Master - well, Masters - in the field, and it has routinely proven true. He certainly never learned to do shots in the crèche. He tugs on his boots; he should probably fix up his hair, just in case any other senator's daughters are in attendance. "I'd like to make the most of our time, Master. I don't think it would be too early at all."

Especially if the Council may very well be sending them off to Felucia come the morning. He'd been once before, with his prior Master, and never did manage to get rid of all the mudstains on his old pair of boots. Thank the Force he outgrew them. Feemor's excitement is laced with only the briefest wrinkle of begrudging chagrin at the notion of returning early after a night such as this before he dismisses the feeling. That, he thinks, is a concern for future Feemor to contend with. Present Feemor is throwing on his poncho and pocketing his communicator.

this man's force presence is as clouded with confusion as it is with doubt, both which make the chances of convincing him of an immediate threat lower right before qui-gon's very own eyes. for a moment, he imagines another universe where he's crouched before the gardens of the jedi temple instead of out here, taking care of the plants and flowers which serve both as decor and morale boosters for the jedi rather than on this stranger's doorstep.

" the cloaking device completely conceals a ship's presence when activated. i doubt it would have been noticeable to you and most other species in the galaxy. " he can't, now, either. there's a clear disturbance in the force surrounding his apartment, though whether that's due to an anomaly or something else more easily explainable, he's sure he won't have the chance to explore. " and animals can find common ground, my friend, as we can. i fail to see how your dog's inaction confirms or denies the presence of the porgs. "

"Right, of course. My mistake." He's sure that the guy really is somewhere else in the galaxy entirely, though he's coherent as hell for somebody clearly high out of his gourd, he'll hand him that. "But your fancy little radars tracked the invisible ship... here. To a shitty apartment building. And you think this guy's porks, or whatever, got into my shitty apartment, specifically. I just want to make sure I'm following this."

If he didn't want him out of his house so badly, Nick would almost be tempted to see where this is going. But his stubbornness about it isn't exactly endearing.

"I'm pretty sure I know my dog better than you do," though really the only thing she consistently barks at is Nick. He cannot, in fact, verify that the dog's silence is proof against the missing animals having wandered in, no matter how much he wants to for the sake of her pride. "I'm not—"

The hand that intends to cut him off does just that. Nick stops in his tracks, loses his train of thought, and gives the guy a look that says what the fuck are you doing in just about a million languages.