Log Date:
	2/22/99, 2/23, 2/24

Log Cast:
	Gavin, Shenner

Log Intro:
	[Continued from shen-gavin-kiss.txt.]
	Ever since their meeting, Shenneret Veery and Gavin Hollister have
found their personalities clashing. But with the threat of Imperial invasion
now looming over the planet of Caspar, Gavin has sought Shen's help in
leaving the planet -- and offered to take her with him. Shenner, in turn,
has conquered her irritation at the man and has apologized to him for her
behavior. And tonight, when the incognito Jedi begins to get glimpses into the
young musician's troubled psyche and history, personality clashes have all at
once led to something far more fiery and passionate between them: an ardent
kiss in the Sandbar.
	Profoundly shaken by the attraction that has seized them seemingly out
of nowhere, Gavin convinces the equally shaken Shen to leave the bar with
him so that the two of them can talk...

----------
Gavin
 Fierce and determined. Those are perhaps the first two words that are invoked 
  when gazing upon this man. That he stands out in a crowd is obvious; his 
  handsome, albeit rugged face is distinct with its sharp, almost aristocratic 
  features and despite its close cut, his jet black hair catches the eye with 
  its lustrous and silky quality. His eyes are calm in their steel grey 
  intensity, almost world-weary or grim some would say, yet the humor and 
  roguishness of his younger days can still be seen within those depths. Lean 
  of body, yet solid in build, it is firm, worked muscles that contribute to 
  his imposing stature. His hands are slender and lightly calloused; hands 
  that seem to be equally at home with a pen or blade. Precise and methodical, 
  his efficient use of motion makes it obvious that his every action is 
  considered and calculated.
 Black on white is the day's choice in colors and clothing. Silk and 
  ivory-hued, he wears an elegantly simple shirt underneath a thicker one made 
  of black wool, sans collar. The overshirt is adorned with large, black 
  buttons and rides low, past his hips so as to adopt a casual, almost lazy 
  style. His slacks are well-pressed, perhaps in a military style, and of a 
  tailored charcoal-black cloth. Over his feet and reaching nearly to his 
  knees are a pair of shiny, yet well-used black boots with silver buckles. 
  His right hand sports a gold ring, bejewelled with a beautifully cut 
  sapphire and from around his neck hangs a tiny, matching woman's ring, off 
  of a thin gold chain. Finishing off the ensemble is well-crafted pin shaped 
  in the form of a black lion; it is fixed onto the left side of the collar of 
  the silk shirt. He has doused himself sparingly with one of Coruscant's 
  favored colognes.
 Currently, a thick, dusky brown corduroy jacket graces his upper torso and 
  sweeps slightly past his hips in length. Black gunmetal of a military issue 
  blaster can be seen underneath the jacket, tucked away into a snug holster.
                -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Carried Virtual Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> DD6 Blaster Pistol 

Stepping out into the night, by your side, Gavin keeps his head straight and 
  his steps somewhat steady. He focuses mostly on just going forward. His 
  breath crystalizes in the cold winter eve, misting in front of his face as 
  he walks. Nothing is said and while his Jedi senses never fail to pick up 
  that which surrounds him, he simply does not concentrate on anything else 
  except the thoughts that cause inner turmoil within the dark recesses of his 
  mind.

Go somewhere to talk. If it weren't winter, Shenner might consider going to 
  the beach... but it _is_ winter, it's cold and snowy, and she doesn't want 
  to be outside any longer than she has to. And for all that the man beside 
  her has rattled her deeply, she still finds herself leading him up North 
  Mergansar, heading towards the house Rekkie's been sharing with her for 
  months now. She too seems mostly bent just on moving, until at last she 
  guides her companion onto Newcastle Circle, and onto the front porch of 
  house number 123. "Um... Rekkie's place," she says, turning to Gavin once 
  more at last, her breath hanging in white clouds about her face as she 
  speaks, and as she punches in the security code to unlock the front door.

Gavin's eyes crease at the edges, as if the cold had become so bitter as to 
  bite even at these extremities. Inhaling deeply of the frigid night air, he 
  continues to walk by your side as the house is approached. For a moment, he 
  glances up at the sky and all those glittering stars. And at the worlds the 
  lie beyond. A tiny smile creeps across his lips, melancholic and wistful, 
  but a smile nonetheless. Then, glancing at the house as you punch in the 
  security code, he says, "Okay." Efficiency of speech. Nothing more is said 
  than needs to be said.

123 Newcastle Circle -- Rekkie Sheldon's House(#6474en)
The interior of the home of Rekkie Sheldon is something that can be summed up 
  in the phrase 'comfortable chaos'; everything in the house is pleasantly 
  disorganized, her possessions all generally attractive, even if frequently 
  battered or mismatched. All portions of the place tend to look as if a small 
  storm has breezed through them, and given Rekkie's personality, this is 
  unsurprising to those who know her. The place abounds in books -- especially 
  songbooks, as well as books about music in general -- and plants of several 
  species, reflecting Rekkie's green thumb. Frequently, there's music of some 
  kind or other playing over Rekkie's sound system, an expensive setup piping 
  selections from her extensive collection of song discs throughout the house.
(Rekkie's house has details which you may 'inspect'.)
                 -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Gavin

At any other time, Shen, too, might glance skyward. But not tonight. Instead, 
  she gets the door open as quickly as she can, waving her visitor into the 
  place, closing the door behind him when he's into the warmth of the front 
  hall. "I, uh, so... just... settle down wherever... couch in the living room 
  in there... d'ya want some coffee or somethin'...?" She's not speaking 
  swiftly; indeed, she's delivering her words with almost overcareful 
  precision, as if she were drunk and trying to avoid sounding like it. But 
  she's also babbling, and all too aware of it, and she blushes as she tugs 
  off her coat and heads into the living room to toss the garment onto the 
  big, overstuffed, burnt-orange-upholstered couch.

"Okay. Yes, coffee would be nice." Gavin also takes more effort to speak 
  slowly. And clearly. His Coruscant accent is pronounced but not 
  overwhelming. It just gives him a bit of an 'offworld' feel. "Do you mind if 
  I smoke in here, Shenner?" Walking towards the couch with precise, almost 
  clipped steps, he sinks down into the cushions with some level of comfort. 
  Deft fingers unbutton the once-again soaked corduroy jacket.

"Okay... sure... right... coffee..." The coat off, Shenner flees, off through 
  an open entryway that clearly leads back into a kitchen. As she goes, she 
  waves a hand over a lamp on a table, a slightly scratched light-globe just 
  over which rests a patterened shade; as the thing comes on, the room is 
  filled with a gently dappled light. And the room itself is revealed, an 
  eclectic jumble of comfort and taste, book-laden shelves, a guitar case in 
  the corner, an expensive sound system sitting side by side with a terminal.
As she goes, Shen waves again, this time to a switch on the wall, and the 
  lights come on in the kitchen. Sounds of rummaging come out of that other 
  room, and the young woman calls uncertainly, "Rekkie's got like five kinds 
  of coffee... d'ya care, or, um...?" And she comes back into view in the 
  entryway, uneasy, obviously nervous.

Always alert, careful grey eyes take in the scenery. Various items are picked 
  up on, especially the guitar. Gavin smiles a little as he studies the case. 
  Drawing out both pack and lighter, he shakes free a cigarette and props it 
  between his lips. The pack is tucked away inside a pocket, while the lighter 
  is thumbed so as to produce a flame which he applies to the tip of the 
  stick. Lost in his own thoughts for a moment, the Jedi looks up with a faint 
  smile as you question him on coffees. Large grey eyes, deep and full, stare 
  at your face for a long time, before he says finally, "Whatever is easiest, 
  Shenner."

She pulls in a breath, green eyes met to grey, and then just bobs her tousled 
  russet head. "Right," she murmurs huskily. "Lemme start the pot..." And she 
  vanishes again, as if shot out of a blaster cannon. A few moments later, the 
  coffee maker heating up, no other task at hand to distract her from this 
  disturbing individual in Rekkie's living room, she returns. Her hands hang 
  tensely at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling. And finally, she 
  begins, "So, uh... talk...?"

Taking your absence as an excuse to enjoy his cigarette, Gavin wallows in the 
  relief from tension that the tobacco brings. His body becomes just a little 
  less tight and his mind drifts from thought to thought. Exhaling a burst of 
  smoke through flared nostrils as you re-enter the room, his gaze flickers 
  over you again as he murmurs, "Sit with me?" His eyes dart around the room, 
  obviously in search of an ashtray.

Shenner watches her visitor's grey eyes take in the room... and then it hits 
  her. "Idiot street rat," she mutters, vanishing once more into the kitchen, 
  before coming back with an old bowl, the first thing she could think of to 
  suit the purpose. Closing the gap between her and Gavin, she presents the 
  bowl. "Wasn't thinkin'," she admits roughly.

"It's okay." Gavin reaches for the bowl with one hand, his free one, but 
  instead of catching the offered piece, his fingers twine around your wrist, 
  pulling you towards him. Not forcefuly, just firmly. "Sit. Please." Grey 
  eyes are still fixed on your green ones, through that curtain of smoke which 
  climbs up into the air from his cigarette.

Her hand holding the bowl, her wrist grasped, Shenner looks up, and then 
  allows herself a single nod, sinking down onto the couch. With her free hand 
  she pushes her coat a little more out of the way, and then she brings it 
  round, intending to transfer the bowl to that hand and set it on the low 
  table nearby.

Releasing your hand, Gavin crushes out the cigarerette within the bowl and 
  lets it lie there. Shaking his head, to get the droplets of water out of his 
  black locks, he mutters, "Sorry. Still not used to the weather." Skilled 
  hands remove his jacket, as well, which is currently drenched. "Tell me what 
  you're thinking, Shenner?" he says almost abruptly. He curls his legs 
  underneath his body as he pulls himself into a more relaxed position on the 
  couch. Pivoting towards you, so that his shoulder is pushed up against the 
  cushions of the sofa, he stares at you head on.

The bowl banished to the table, and without Gavin's grasp holding her fingers, 
  Shenner seems slightly at a loss as to what to do with her hands. She 
  finally fishes out the pendant again, beginning to twine it around through 
  her fingertips while her gaze moves across the room to settle on the 
  battered guitar case. "Damn good question," is her immediate and unsteady 
  answer. Then she closes her eyes, pulls in a breath, and chides herself, 
  _Get a grip, street rat!_ Her next words are more level, but her eyes stay 
  closed as she delivers them: "I'm thinkin'... I... dunno why I let you do... 
  that." She doesn't specify what 'that' is, but then, she doesn't need to.

Watching your fingers for a long time, Gavin just finally reaches out for both 
  of your hands with both of his own. Capturing them in his grip, a tender, 
  soft grip that could easily be broken if so desire, he meets your green eyes 
  with his greys as he asks, "Do you regret it?" He is a strong, tangible 
  presence, so close to you and your own slender form is not lost on him. 
  There is still that tingle of energy, at least for him.

Her hands taken, Shenner can't help but look up again, and when she does, her 
  gaze is captured as deftly as her hands. Once again there's potent unease 
  behind those emerald eyes of hers, and her hands go tense with her effort to 
  keep them from shaking. "No," she blurts without considering the answer, 
  only to catch herself, startled by her own word. The walk here had cleared 
  her head somewhat, but here and now, in the privacy of Rekkie Sheldon's 
  home, it's clear from both her expressions and the tang of her thoughts that 
  Shen is still gripped by churning reactions, emotions tangling up and 
  tightening up within her.

"You have got to talk to me, Shenner. I need to know what you're feeling." 
  Gavin lets out another breath, exhaling almost raggedly. His hands try to be 
  as comforting as possible, as his fingers gently caress the skin around your 
  thumbs. "I, me, well. Shit. Let me try and tell you what I'm thinking. I'm 
  thinking I'm unsure about everything right about now. I'm involved with 
  Karita, sorta. Its not a deep relationship; we've only known each other for 
  about a week now. But we're involved and we're lovers. And I like her a lot. 
  But I'm not in love with her. I don't know if I ever will be; I'm not sure I 
  know what love is supposed to feel like." His eyes glance down at your 
  hands, then lift once more to meet your gaze. "You. I don't know how I feel. 
  I do know it felt /so/ right to kiss you back then. Am I in love with you? 
  No. I barely know you. Could I be in love with you? Yet another one of those 
  mysteries of life that has no answer right now. But...I. .want. .to. .be. 
  .closer. .to. .you." Each word is bitten off. As if so difficult to say. "So 
  that's me," he ends.

Shenner's emotions spike up sharply, the flare of _Ohmigods... not again..._ 
  unmistakable within them. Her eyes turn pained, her brows winging down, her 
  mouth beginning to draw into a tight little line. "I... oh, gods... I..." 
  Her hands were already fluttering under the caresses given them; now, they 
  tremble even harder. _Gods-DAMMIT, street rat, get a -grip-!_ she orders 
  herself wildly, and her attempt at controlling her emotions is just as 
  palpably detectable as the feelings themselves, a desperate burst slashing 
  across them. "I-I-I think that's probably a-a-a karkin' stupid idea..." But 
  that's as far as she gets, her voice cracking.

"I don't think it is, Shenner. Don't walk away. That is all I'm asking." 
  Gavin's right hand tightens around your own hands, gripping the smaller ones 
  in his large palm. His left hand steals away, though, to slide up your face. 
  Slowly, gently, almost lovingly, he curls back locks of your red hair behind 
  your ear. His fingers ride through your tresses, longingly. "You've got to 
  decide for yourself, though. I don't want to be a paper cut-out for whoever 
  you're carrying that torch for. I don't want to be just a pale image of him. 
  And I don't know what is going to happen with Karita, either. So there are a 
  lot of 'ifs'." He opens his mouth, as if to say more, then closes it again.

The attentions to her hair begin to undo the redheaded musician; her eyelids 
  flutter closed again, and wetness begins to leak out from beneath them. Her 
  mouth quivers. So do her hands. Shen flails for words, and then finds 
  herself rasping out helplessly, "I-I can't help it, I love, loved him so 
  much, but I gotta grow up, I just gotta deal with it, he... he ain't comin' 
  back..."

Those words solidify an internal decision for Gavin and with a faint, small, 
  sad smile, his hand drops from your hair, down to your waist, as does his 
  other hand. Pulling you into a tight hug, he lifts his right hand from 
  behind to stroke your hair, gently. So tenderly. His head twists, so as to 
  plant a kiss on the side of your head. "You've got to heal, Shenner. I'll be 
  here for you. As your friend. As someone who...feels strongly about you. But 
  I think that should be it. Until you can get over him. Because it won't be 
  fair to me or to you. Maybe it'll give me time to figure out what is going 
  on with Karita, too." Swallowing a little, it is obvious he isn't entirely 
  happy with his own decision. "You can always tell me about him. If you're 
  willing to share. Maybe it'll help us both."

When embraced, perhaps more so than at any other time, it seems that Shen's 
  frame is almost too slight to contain the forceful storm of thought and 
  feeling that seems to characterize her mind. She huddles up into the hug, 
  russet head instinctively seeking Gavin's shoulder, her arms slipping around 
  him with a childlike hesistance. She trembles. And she cries. And she croaks 
  out breathlessly, "I-I dunno where to start..."

"Why." The question leaves Gavin's lips on the whisper of another kiss. His 
  mouth touches your ear in the softest of embraces. His hands hold you 
  tightly to him, so very close that you can almost feel his heart beating 
  under the layers of clothing and cold, damp skin. "Why did you love him. I 
  think that is a good place to start." Fingers weave through your hair, 
  almost in desperation.

The question obviously rattles her all over again, for a wave of something 
  akin to uncomprehension rolls across her thoughts: why did she love this 
  other, unnamed man? Why _didn't_ she love this other man, is more like it.
  Countless explanations and replies burst into being in her mind, and as 
  Shenner struggles with how to begin to give voice to them, she clings to the 
  man holding her close. She's still shaking, and the very back of her mind 
  wonders dimly why she's clutching so desperately at a practical stranger... 
  but the comfort of his embrace easily overwhelms that vague voice of 
  concern. "He... he got me offa Belsavis," she begins, her voice ragged with 
  tears and muffled with her cheek pressed into your shirt. "And... he was... 
  so smart, he'd teach me stuff, all kinds of stuff, how to play the guitar 
  better than I was doin' and... a bit about how to fly his ship, and..."

"That isn't love, Shenner. That is a list of events. Why did you /love/ him? 
  What did he do to you, that claimed your heart?" Gavin's hands continue to 
  slide and work themselves through your hair, even as he places another kiss 
  on the side of your head. Strands of red hair get caught in his lips and he 
  chuckles a bit, as he puckers them out of his mouth. Chuckling softly, 
  almost breaking the mood with the humorous and tragic situation he finds 
  himself in, he refuses to give you up. Yet. "Tell me his name?"

"Paul," Shenner whispers. "H-his name is Paul..." Answering that question is 
  easy; it's simple, it's direct. Answering the rest of it, though, that's 
  harder. She continues to weep, not loudly, but with a kind of strain that 
  suggests that every tear she sheds is getting wrung out of that hard tangle 
  of emotion and memory dominating so much of her consciousness. The arms 
  around her, Gavin's gentle tone, and his repeated comforting kisses along 
  the side of her head are beginning to wear down on that tangle, unravelling 
  it slowly and surely... but half the girl's psyche is wrestling against it, 
  as though she somehow believes she shouldn't succumb to this tender 
  consolation.

"Paul." Gavin repeats the word, saying it over again for himself, as if trying 
  out how it feels. "Paul." Once more. Strong hands, comforting hands slip 
  downwards, to stroke Shenner's back, then ride up, yet again, into her red 
  mane. Another kiss is given, then another, planting them in a row as he 
  slowly pulls back until the last kiss is given to the young lady's forehead. 
  His hands have also repositioned themselves, drawing back so that they once 
  more cup the teary-eyed singer's gentle face. "Just tell me everything, 
  Shenner."

She doesn't resist the shift of position, or the lean hands moving up to 
  cradle her cheeks in their grasp. But the movement does set off ripples of 
  confusion through her once again, as for a moment or two Shenner tries to 
  wrestle with the question of why she's behaving this way. But she can't hold 
  that thought for very long, not with those concerned grey eyes upon her, not 
  when the calm request pierces through what's left of her shuddering 
  defenses. Hesitantly at first, in broken little syllables, she begins to do 
  as she's been asked. "N-nobody was ever good to me, ever, not like Paul... 
  just a street rat, filthy street rat, till he saved me... d-didn't hafta 
  hide anymore, didn't hafta pretend to be a boy no more..."

"Oh." It's the first response Gavin can come up with. His brows crease, 
  troubled perhaps, and his fingers are so light on your cheeks. His thumbs 
  brush under your eyes, wiping the tears away as quiet grey eyes regard your 
  green ones with serious intent. So very close, his mouth is so very close to 
  your own. He whispers, his lips forming the words slowly, "He isn't saving 
  you anymore, Shenner. You are saving yourself. You aren't a filthy street 
  rat, beautiful. You're a lovely, amazing young lady." His words are genuine, 
  spoken from the heart.

Shenner's emotions buck and skitter, the compliment uneasily registering with 
  them, dully allowed, if not necessarily _believed_. "H-he h-h-helped me 
  start d-doin' that, see...? I-I mean... never woulda tried to go to school 
  if he hadn't..." Her words start picking up speed, turning into babbling, a 
  floodgate opening somewhere within her. "Showed me s-so many wonderful 
  things, swimmin' an-and, and climbin' trees and he gimme the ocarina and... 
  he was always lookin' out for me, wanted me t-to be safe except I was 
  stupid, I-I-I didn't wanna leave him even when the shit hit the fire, e-even 
  when we went to Mandalore, and-and..."

Just listening for awhile, Gavin lets you ramble without any interruption. His 
  fingers continue to stroke your damp skin, the tips kneading your flesh very 
  lightly. He sinks his hands back a bit, so that he can just lightly touch at 
  your earlobes. Still maintaining this oh-so-very intimate closeness with 
  you, he finally murmurs, "Why do you keep blaming /yourself/, Shenner? For 
  everything? You keep telling me that you couldn't have done it without him 
  and that losing him was your fault. I know I don't know the whole story, but 
  I can't believe that is all there is to the whole story."

The young woman's eyes shudder closed again, and a violent tremor racks 
  through her on the words 'your fault'. A fresh wave of tears dampens her 
  face, and her features crinkle up with such tautness and pain that one might 
  think she'd just been shot in the gut. "H-had to be my fault," she moans. 
  "H-he, he was right, I'm too young for him, practically just a kid and, and 
  I shoulda never gone to Mandalore, I was just in the way, I-I was just in 
  the way, wasn't helpin' him none and he had to look out for me even when he 
  was hurt and I was losin' it and they had to take my gun away, I was so 
  stupid...!"

Exhaling quietly, Gavin's patience does not wane, despite the claims of 
  self-guilt. "Shenner, you've got to understand, not everything is your 
  fault. I don't know about what happened on Mandalore. Maybe you shouldn't 
  have gone. I don't know. If I was in the middle of a mission and you just 
  popped up on me, yes, I think it would have been a mess. I don't know the 
  details of Mandalore, though. Or the age difference between you and him." 
  Leaning forward, he plants another soft kiss on your brow, then slowly 
  touches his lips to the tip of your nose. Whispering so that his warm breath 
  caresses your skin, he says, "But its in the past. You're older now. And you 
  /needed/ to grow for yourself. Without him. To be your own person."

"I don't _remember_," Shenner blurts all at once, barely audibly, the words 
  pronounced with profound effort. "We got to the crypt and then, a-and then I 
  don't _remember_, and then he was gone... he was gone...."

"He just left? Without saying goodbye? And you haven't seen him since?" 
  Gavin's troubled look returns as his brows furrow in thought. His fingers 
  lightly circle around your ear, in a slow, methodical pattern.

With her face so crinkled, so crumpled up, it's no wonder Shenner is having 
  trouble talking; her mouth is drawn into such a tiny, tight little line that 
  her words can barely get past it, and they only manage to do so in a 
  strangled croak. "I don't _r-r-remember,_" she groans, her hands withdrawing 
  from their tentative touch on Gavin's frame, as she tries to curl her arms 
  around herself, to curl into a little ball right there on the couch. 
  "R-remember the crypt and th-then the body and then everything's all black 
  and then I-I was on Calamari and he left me a letter and the necklace but he 
  was _gone_...!"

"Oh." Gavin seems to like that word a lot. It's an answer to a lot of things. 
  Let loose a heavy breath, his fingers rise back into your hair, stroking the 
  locks. "I don't have anything I can say, Shenner. I'll listen, though. But, 
  you need to move past that."

From somewhere within the kitchen, a scent of coffee begins to waft out into 
  the living room -- the coffee pot, apparently, is still busily doing its 
  job. But Shenner is oblivious, as she slumps against the couch's cushions, 
  trembling vehemently. "T-tryin'. Been tryin'. T-thought I-I had it licked, 
  the nightmares stopped but, but I-I-I ain't... here I am, an-and I sound... 
  oh, _hells_..."

At a loss for what to say, Gavin just lamely notes, "I think the coffee is 
  ready, Shenner." As soothing as he can be, he tries to touch you with the 
  Force. No particular power, per se. Just a gentle caress in the warmth and 
  comfort of the Light Side. His fingers do the rest, weaving and sliding 
  through your hair. "Maybe we should check on it?"

Perhaps it's the continued soothing motion of the fingers through her hair; 
  perhaps it's the calm voice of reason offering a distraction from the tumult 
  through which her emotions are dragging her; perhaps it's that brush of the 
  Light across her consciousness, not only readily but even thirstily received, 
  soaking into her mind like water into parched earth. Whatever the cause... 
  and perhaps it's all three, really... Shenner abruptly shudders. She begins 
  to sit up again, relief washing across her features. "Th-the coffee," she 
  repeats in a rasp, teary eyes coming open, her head turning in the kitchen's 
  direction. "Right...!"

"I'll help you with it." Gavin, too, has gotten rein on his own thoughts. 
  Through force of will, he begins to purposefully filter out the onslaught of 
  emotions that seemed to be pouring out of you and gathers himself into a 
  better state of mind. Still, a soft smile graces his lips as he gazes upon 
  your slender form. "Shall we?" he asks as he disengages himself and rises a 
  bit from the couch.

Shen succeeds in a shaky nod. As she starts to get up, she catches the gaze of 
  her visitor; for a fraction of an instant she stares wetly up at him, young 
  face reddened and haggard now. But her eyes are beginning to clear, 
  rationality -- and chagrin -- edging in to displace hysteria. It's the smile 
  that finally makes her push up to her feet, blurting, "Yeah... yeah, 
  thanks..." Heat rises in her cheeks as it occurs to her to wonder, _What... 
  the hells... am I doing?!_ Gavin Hollister's smile offers her no answers; 
  indeed, it shoots a nervous jolt through her already overtaxed system, and 
  she hastily opts for a retreat into the other room.

Clearing his throat, Gavin pauses to take another long look around the room. 
  His grey eyes focus on the guitar case for a few moments, before he finally 
  trundles after you into the kitchen. Standing in the archway, his gaze 
  softens as he watches you fiddle around with the coffee pot. Then, without 
  warning, he steps up behind you and slips his arms your waist. Planting a 
  kiss on the back of your head, and getting a mouthful of that fine, red hair
  for his efforts, he squeezes your hips tightly for a precious second. A 
  moment's thought and he disengages, albeit reluctantly, after poofing the 
  hair with his mouth in a snort. "How're you feeling?"

The guitar case sitting there in the corner is, upon passing inspection, a 
  much-battered, well-travelled thing; it's got several stickers with colorful 
  logos of this and that bar and this and that planet scattered across its 
  surface, along with a number of nicks and scratches. The kitchen seems to 
  show that same kind of extensive use; its various cabinets are of a pale 
  wood, but old and worn, and the countertops' white enameled surfaces, while 
  clean, show several old, faint discolorations that might have been stains 
  never quite properly polished off. The coffee pot, however, is new and 
  shining, and Shen is pouring some of its steaming, fragrant contents into a 
  mug that must have been brought home from the Sandbar, for it bears that 
  worthy establishment's logo on the side.

As she is embraced from behind, however, Shenner starts, startlement courses 
  down through her body. The kiss to her unbound russet mop and the squeeze of 
  her narrow hips nearly cause her to drop the pot... but not quite. She 
  manages, albeit with shaking hands, to set it down on its heating unit as 
  Gavin then pulls back from her. At his question, she turns around, gesturing 
  nervously at the now-full cup on the counter. "H-how do you like it?" she 
  croaks. "Y'want some milk or cream or somethin'...?"

"Milk and two sugars would be nice, thanks." It is obvious that Gavin is 
  conflicted; even the most dense can see it. Part of him appears to be edging 
  towards you, to hold you again. But the better part of judgement prevails 
  and so he takes up a position along the wall, leaning one shoulder against 
  it as he watches your movements from his perch. He lifts a hand to his head 
  and strings his fingers through his thick, black dishelved hair. "You still 
  didn't answer my question, Shenner."

"Milk... sugar... o-okay..." The girl steps across the room, circling the 
  little island of a counter in the center of the kitchen, towards the tall 
  refrigeration unit humming quietly to itself in the corner. Not meeting your 
  eyes, she goes rummaging into it, coming out with a small container of milk. 
  She next forages into a drawer for a spoon, and then scarfs the covered 
  ceramic sugar bowl up from its place by the fridge, bringing them all back 
  over to the one filled mug. "The milk's fresh, just bought it, and well, you 
  might w... wanna tell me what you call two sugars, 'cause Rekkie drinks this 
  stuff half sugar, and two for her is--" As she sets down the things she's 
  fetched, her back towards you, she suddenly stops, mouth closing with an 
  almost audible snap. _I'm babbling,_ she realizes in fierce embarrassment. 
  And only after several seconds does she finally rasp, "I feel like a 
  galactic-class idiot."

"Two tablespoons," explains Gavin. "I've got a sweet-tooth, too. I guess it 
  ruins my 'tough guy' imagine." His lips curve into a full roguish grin, 
  before settling into a more tame smile. "And you're doing fine, Shenner. 
  You've got a lot on your mind. I do, too. But you've carrying a lot more 
  baggage than I am, when it comes to the love department. I don't think that 
  is such a bad thing. I envy you." He inhales deeply, then lets exhales the 
  breath through his flared nostrils, "You've got to settle things inside of 
  you, though. Hurting a bit to know you're alive is good. To know you've 
  loved. Hurting a lot for a long time isn't healthy. And, and it's not you. 
  Not who you should be. Who you could be."

Two tablespoons. She can do that. The spoon she got out is a teaspoon, and so 
  she counts off six iterations of sugar with that spoon, into the coffee. As 
  she reaches for the milk, Shenner glances over her shoulder in time to catch 
  the tail end of the grin; her gaze stays there, long enough to see it settle 
  down into a smile once more, before flitting swiftly back to the task at 
  hand. Milk is poured and stirred in, and only then does the young musician 
  dare to approach her visitor with the fruits of her labors, holding up the 
  mug. "I know all that," she mumbles, somewhere in the direction of your 
  right shoulder. Her features start tightening up again, not crumpling as 
  they had before, but rather settling into rigid, stoic lines. "I... been 
  tryin' to deal with it. It don't kick my ass as much as it used to..." _It,_ 
  she thinks raggedly, seizing upon the indefinite little word with a surge of 
  gratitude. Easier to discuss the state of her heart and mind if she can just 
  encapsulate it all in 'it'.

"I know. I like repeating the obvious. It's a male-thing." Again, that grin 
  captures Gavin's face as he accepts the mug with both hands, inhaling the 
  aroma with a deep sigh. "Thanks. If it smells even half as good as it 
  tastes...Err. No, I meant, if it tastes even half as good as it smells...or 
  whatever. You get the idea." A lazy wink with a grey eye, as he lifts the 
  cup to readied and waiting lips. Sipping slowly, he mumbles, "Mm. It does. 
  Taste that good, that is." Savoring a few more sips, he asks, "So where do 
  we go from here?" as his gaze focuses on your face.

Shen's own lips twitch for a moment on their right end, in the vaguest ghost 
  of a smile, in acknowledgement of the compliment. And then, she snorts 
  softly. "I can't take credit for how it tastes, Rekkie bought the stuff, I 
  just put hot water and milk and sugar on it, but, well hey...." And she 
  turns away, remembering her own cup on the counter, still unfilled. The 
  thought of putting down a mug of coffee... of shooting caffeine through her 
  twitchy nervous system... suddenly makes her feel vaguely ill. So she steps 
  off to the counter again, going rummaging, coming up with a teabag instead. 
  As she brings this back to place into her own cup, the last question catches 
  her and makes her pause. Still not meeting your eyes, she mutters, "I... 
  dunno why I blabbed all that stuff at you. You're right... I... don't hardly 
  know ya...." Green eyes close; with an effort, she straightens her posture, 
  and then at last dares to look up.

"I'd like to think it was because you liked me. Hence the question: Where do 
  we go from here?" Gavin takes another hearty sip from the mug, before his 
  face scrunches up in a scowl. "Ouch. I burnt my tongue. Blah. I shouldn't 
  have taken such a mouthful." He mutters darkly to himself, then peers 
  suspiciously into the dark liquid. "Hmm. Anyway," he raises his grey eyes 
  back to regard you as steam pours upwards from the cup. "Where /do/ we go 
  from here? You blabbing to me wasn't wrong. It was good. It'll help you heal 
  and me understand you better. But we should figure out where we stand. And, 
  and were you going to come with us off of Caspar?"

Shenner swallows hard, clutching at her mug, and staring up at the tall 
  black-haired man before her in trepidation. Then she hauls a long breath 
  into her lungs, turning away yet again, looking around for her housemate's 
  tea kettle. Two questions, and she's not sure which disturbs her more. 
  _-Think-, street rat! Try to act like a sentient being for once!_ "Which... 
  one of those do you want me to answer first?" she finally asks.

"Uh, it's not a multiple choice exam, Shenner." Gavin keeps the humor in his 
  voice, lest both of them fall into melancholy, again. He clucks his tongue, 
  then takes a small, wary sip of the coffee. "Mm. Not too bad this time. No 
  war injuries." Lowering the mug, he dabs at the stray droplets on his lip 
  with his tongue. "Just tell me what's on your mind, Shenner." His eyes focus 
  on your youthful face.

The tea kettle located amidst a pile of recently washed dishes by the sink, 
  Shen plucks it free. At that sink, she starts cold water running, and takes 
  a moment to splash some of it across her eyes and cheeks. Then, hot water 
  into the kettle; the kettle, then, to the heating unit. The cup with its 
  single little tea bag is set to stand vigil nearby. And as she makes herself 
  go through these small, purposeful motions, now beginning to crave the cup 
  of tea she'll get out of it when she's done, Shenner begins hoarsely, 
  "Caspar's the only home I got now. I ain't got nowhere else to go. I got a 
  life here now. School... the Sandbar."

"It's not safe here, Shenner. Pick up and leave. It really is just that easy. 
  It might not feel like it is, but you've got to make the best decision for 
  yourself. It's your call, though." Shrugging his shoulders, Gavin takes 
  another tentative sip of the coffee. "I'm personally not a big fan of 
  Caspar, because I don't think they stand up for what's right. But that is a 
  political debate and not one for this time. I am just saying, make the right 
  decision for yourself."

Shenner snorts again, softly. "This wouldn't be the first not-safe world I 
  been on, pal." Then, not thinking about the impulse to do so, she turns 
  around again, damp face exhausted, her eyes tired and grave and just a touch 
  wary, but not nearly enough to banish the traces of vulnerability still 
  notable there in the water she's used to try to scrub away her tears. "In 
  the last four years I've been on six different worlds where I almost got my 
  ass killed. Now... I got friends here, see? Miz Laarken gave me the first 
  real gods-damned job I've ever had in my life. I'm in school for the first 
  gods-damned time in my life. I treat 'em all like dirt half the time, but 
  'Ani... the band... hell, even Loren, and 'specially Rekkie... they're all 
  my _friends_, see...?" She takes a few steps forward, seized anew by the 
  realization that for no reason she can fathom, she _trusts_ this man... and 
  accordingly, inwardly praying he'll _understand_. "I'd feel like nine kinds 
  of hell if I left without 'em, Gav." Gav. Not Hollister, not even Gavin, but 
  Gav.

Exhaling softly, Gavin simply nods to your words. "Okay, Shenner. I can't 
  force you to come with me. But you can't save the world and your friends 
  need to make their own decisions for themselves. If they don't leave, that 
  is their business. Don't mean you need to go down with the ship for no 
  reason." Shaking his head, he takes a final sip of the coffee, before 
  placing the mug back down on the counter. His grey eyes watch you with quiet 
  interest. "It's your choice, Shenner. We're leaving tommorrow."

Troubled, stung, Shen turns around yet again, to watch the tea kettle. "I 
  ain't expectin' to save nothin' -- I'm just a street rat bar singer," she 
  mutters. "But they're my friends and I got a place here. Ain't it... right 
  to fight for it, with them?" The kettle begins to breathe out a faint 
  tendril of steam through its top, a prelude to whistling. Her tone dark, 
  Shen goes on, head bowed, "Your people... they been good to me, but I 
  wouldn't have clue one what to do hangin' around on Captain Calrissian's 
  ship. And like I said... I ain't got anywhere else to go."

Another ragged breath escapes Gavin's lips. "Okay. I'll be honest. I don't 
  want to lose you, either. I mean, I'm just starting to get to know you. 
  So...there you have it. I'm worried. For you. Yes, these other people are 
  important. I'm sure they are good people. And fighting for a cause is a good 
  thing. But you've got to pick and choose your battles. Caspar can't beat the 
  Empire on its lonesome and I have not a clue what NR command is doing." His 
  words are muttered slightly darkly on the last few words. "As for where you 
  could go, come to Coruscant. I'm going there. I know Imperial City very 
  well. I could hook you up with the right people."

The kettle starts to whistle, and Shen, inwardly grateful for something to do 
  with her hands, occupies herself with pouring tea over the bag in her cup. 
  As she does so, a subtle scent of chamomile and peppermint wafts into the 
  room. And as she stands there pouring, listening, and at last setting aside 
  the kettle again, all she says is, "You gonna ask Karita to go to Coruscant, 
  too?"

"Yes, Shenner, I am. I like Karita. A lot. We're lovers. I told you that, 
  already. I'm also going to go and tell her I kissed you, after I leave here. 
  I'm not the most reliable of guys when it comes to relationships, but I 
  won't play you off against each other or not tell either of you the real 
  deal." Gavin's answer is straight from the hip. "That doesn't mean I don't 
  want to lose you, Shenner." His grey eyes are levelled on you, flat and 
  serious.

There is something almost frightening to Shenner about that unvarnished, 
  unhesitant honesty. It makes a part of her go very still, bringing forth a 
  final layer of clarity to her mind, commencing the rebuilding of her inner 
  walls. She turns back to face you, certain that her words will not be liked, 
  yet unable to withhold them in the face of those starkly honest 
  proclamations. "Then... I don't think I should come with you."

There is a cold, hard, silence. It is filled only with the sounds of water 
  dripping from the faucet and perhaps Gavin's own soft breath. "Okay," he 
  says finally. "I understand." Not a word more.

Shen can feel a corner of her mind whimpering in protest -- that corner of her 
  that had so desperately craved the comfort she'd been given. And which, she 
  tells herself brutally, had turned her into a raving, hysterical child. She 
  turns around again, putting her back to you, wrapping her palms round her 
  mug of tea. "You said," she whispers, "you don't wanna... copy Paul." That 
  name, short and simple but evidently carrying a world's worth of hurt for 
  this young musician, is barely audible. "He asked me to go somewhere with 
  him, too. I damn near died and I still ain't got my head back together yet."

"No. I don't want to be a pale shadow of him, Shenner. That is what I said. I'd 
  like to think I'm better than that, as great a guy as he might have been. I 
  also don't want you to make decisions, because you're worried about mistakes 
  you made with him. You've got to live your life independent of what happened 
  in the past." Gavin twists again, so that his back is now against the wall. 
  Crossing his arms over his chest, he continues to watch you. "You need to 
  stop weighing the past against the present and making your decisions against 
  what happened with Paul. I'm not Paul. I'm Gavin Hollister. Two words, a 
  name. It represents twenty eight years of living a life unlike anyone 
  else's."

Standing there, her cup cradled in her hands, Shenner breathes in the scented 
  steam off the tea and then starts taking down tiny little gulps of it, 
  anxious for the chamomile to start soothing the tension out of her body and 
  mind. "I'm _tryin'_ to live my life independent from my past," comes her 
  whispered reply. "But hey, I only got about half a year's worth of decent 
  life to go by, so maybe I ain't got it down quite yet." She pauses. And then 
  goes on, never lifting her head, never raising her voice, "You scare me, 
  Gav. I like you. I trust you. But you scare me. And I ain't... sure I'm 
  ready to handle you. Not with everything else I gotta worry about right now. 
  Not when I might be spendin' every day on Coruscant wonderin' if the first 
  group of people to ever give a karkin' damn about me mighta just got blown 
  up by the Empire."
Shenner pauses, and then adds tinily, "Second group of people. But your 
  people, well, ain't got much use for a street rat bar singer."

"You're right." Gavin's words are tight, hard. Restrained. "I'm a killer, 
  Shenner. I've killed more men with my bare hands than I can bear to think 
  about. Its the worst when they die in your hands. Or even by a blaster or 
  a...." he trails off, biting the last word. "It's not like in a starship. You 
  press a button and something just vaporizes. Face to face, you see the life 
  drain out of their eyes." He refuses to break his gaze with you, "So this is 
  the life you might end up being involved in. We're fighting for a cause that 
  we just can't back down on." He says softly, "I might die or maybe Imperial 
  City will get levelled. I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't get involved." He 
  murmurs, "But you'll always be more than 'a street rat bar singer'." And 
  with that, he just stops talking.

Shenner abruptly sets the cup down on the counter, whirling back around to 
  meet the gaze that hasn't left her. Another surge of emotion grips her, 
  bringing sparks into her green eyes, spots of her color to her tear-streaked 
  cheeks. "That's my whole point," she grits out, with the kind of tension in 
  her tone that suggests she's struggling with every fiber of her being not to 
  shout. "I have to be involved. Even if it means death. Even if it means 
  killing. I'm already involved and I _can't_ _just_ _run_ _away_!"

"Stay." Gavin closes his eyes, swallows and says the word again. "Stay." He 
  pushes himself off from the wall, and moves towards you. "But I've got to 
  go."

To this, the redheaded singer's face contorts again. "I know," she croaks. "I 
  know."

"One last kiss?" Gavin's face is tense and his shoulders are bunched with 
  nervous energy. Only his grey eyes are calm, and perhaps that too is a 
  facade.
Gavin adds, almost wryly, "For the road?"

Shen closes the remaining little distance, and at that little addendum emits a 
  choked little gasp that might almost be laughter. That she's done this once 
  this night has been world-shattering enough; that she now stands before you, 
  attraction slicing through her being for the second time, is threatening the 
  hard-won reason she's regained coming into this kitchen. Her hands come up, 
  palms out, and she gives a single, sharp nod.

One last grin. One curve of those lips into a sly, cheeky Gavin grin. And as 
  always, accompanied by that winking grey eye. Slipping into the confines of 
  your personal space, the Jedi Knight/New Republic commando raises his hands 
  so as to touch his fingers against yours, before brushing past them to sink 
  his arms around your waist. He draws you up, so close to him, as his mouth 
  hungrily devours your own in a deep, full, head on kiss. No reservations here.

Contact is made. Shenner's arms slip round you in return, one about the waist, 
  one curving up to place her hand along your shoulderblades, and cling with a 
  tenacity that belies her slender frame. Her head is bent slightly back with 
  the kiss, and she answers it with an ardor that belies the scared child 
  that's still lurking somewhere behind her eyes. For now, the child is 
  banished. For now, Shenneret is entirely the young woman.

Enjoying the warmth and sheer emotion of that kiss, Gavin holds onto you for 
  moments, stretching into much longer, it would seem. Finally, with a soft 
  breath, he pulls back. "You are a woman," he says to himself. Raising a hand 
  through your reddish locks, he murmurs, "And we'll see other again. I know 
  it."

Surprise and wonder and unmistakable attraction all intermingle in Shenner's 
  green eyes, and as you come up for air, she stares up at you, transfixed. "I 
  hope so," she breathes. "Goodbye, Gav..."

"Goodbye, Shenner." Gavin's hands drop down, cling to your waist for the 
  briefest of moments, then draw back up to cup your cheeks. Grey eyes, so 
  large and full, stare into your lovely greens for the longest of moments, 
  before he pulls himself away entirely. And turning his back to you, the Jedi 
  chooses his own path out.

[End log.]