Log Date:
	4/28/97

Log Cast:
	Paul Nighman, Shenner, Xavier Nighman

Log Intro:
	Shenner has had a rather startling introduction to Corellia, now
that she has arrived on that world with Paul Nighman and the others flying
with them on the shuttle _Darklighter_. It has not surprised her that
the people of Corellia are a handsome breed -- she knows this from the
Corellians she's met -- nor had she really been surprised that the planet
Corellia is beautiful. But she hadn't expected that the beautiful people
of Corellia -- at least the male ones -- would be interested in her; a
waiter at the Red Dragon restaurant, and later, a young man on the Gold
Beaches, have both flirted with her, much to her uneasy surprise. Paul has,
however, added his own surprises, in the form of a swimming lesson on the
beach -- and the sight of himself clad in nothing but swim trunks to go
along with it.
	Eventually, though, Paul and Shenner realize that they must make
arrangements to go and meet Paul's father. Paul is less than eager to do
this, and after what he's told her over their lunch about Dr. Nighman's
probable reactions to her, Shenner finds herself less than eager as well....

----------
After walking past the main body of the city, the road turns upward and to the 
  south. High up on a low lying rambling hill sprawls the Corellian University 
  at Coronet .... the main branch of a University with institutions scattered 
  all over Corellia. It is a fairly large campus, not quite as beautiful as 
  the Academy on Calamari, but still sports elegant and handsome architecture. 
  Paul obviously knows his way around, as the pathways are winding and 
  convoluted for the most part. A few students wander past here and there, but 
  it seems pretty quiet at this evening hour. Leaving the main campus, Paul 
  takes a road that leads off into a woodsy area, where small houses and 
  cottages dot themselves amongst the trees. He finally stops in front of a 
  rather small simple building, more functional than attractive, especially 
  considering that whoever lives here doesn't care much for maintenance. 
  Still, the surroundings are pleasant and the structure isn't falling down or 
  anything. Paul lets out a sigh and stares at the door, but doesn't approach 
  it.

At her companion's side, Shenner walks with something like trepidation, though 
  it's not quite the same sort of wariness she would wear about her in Mos 
  Eisley; no, this is something else, a wariness of somewhat walking into 
  utterly alien territory, rather than a place that's known and dangerous. She 
  keeps casting glances at everything she sees, trying to skim over the lovely 
  young faces of Corellian students and pay more attention to the grounds 
  themselves. Every so often, she starts at the sight of representatives of 
  the other two races that live in the Corellian system... the tall Selonians, 
  the occasional small, roly-poly Drall. Only when she and Paul reach the 
  house does she venture to speak up, and this with the obvious: "This the 
  place, then?" Her tone is low and restrained, a trifle nervous.

His hands twitching slightly against the straps of his luggage, Paul murmurs, 
  "Yeah," in a somewhat uncomfortable voice. He draws in a deep breath and 
  boldly strides up to the door, his pace arrogant and brimming with attitude. 
  He knocks on the door harshly, in an almost rude manner and then dropping 
  his bags he stands there with his hands on his hips until the door is opened.

"Yes?" is heard before a face is seen, and Paul's frame goes slightly tense. 
  Then a man emerges from the darkness of the doorway. He looks absolutely 
  nothing like Paul, other than the fact that he is rather tall. Wearing 
  glasses that reflect the outdoors light, his eyes are not one of his visible 
  features. Dark brown hair, cut short, liberally greying at the temples and 
  thinning at the top frame a stern face. The planes are more chisled than 
  carved - sharp and pointed - a long aquiline nose, thick dark eyebrows, thin 
  narrow lips, and high prominent cheekbones are the most noticeable. He is 
  dressed conservatively, in a suit that looks almost like a uniform. What is 
  more apparant about him than any of these physical attributes is the aura 
  that he presents. This is a man who positively emits intelligence, 
  intolerance, and intimidation. He stands there for a moment, staring hard at 
  Paul before he finally speaks in arch tones. "Well, I thought your letter 
  must have been a practical joke ... I mean after 10 years." Then eyebrows 
  wing down into a frown. "Well boy, show some manners, don't just stand 
  there."

Standing behind Paul, Shenner frowns a bit as she witnesses Xavier Nighman's 
  answering of the door, and her green eyes flick between the two men. 
  Remembering Paul's earlier advice, she says nothing -- yet -- and molds her 
  face into a decidedly neutral expression.

In soft bitten off tones, Paul manages to reply, "I wouldn't deign to enter 
  your house without an invitation." His tone is only just civil.

As if expecting no better, Dr. Nighman merely nods and takes a step back, 
  gesturing inward with his hands. "Well, don't stand outside on the porch and 
  try to make me look like a poor host, come in," he says. Paul bends his 
  knees to pick up his belongings again, and heads into the house, sparing 
  Shenner only a brief apologetic glance.

Carting her own guitar and carisak with her, Shenner pads quietly in Paul's 
  wake into the house. She studies Dr. Nighman as best she can when the older 
  man is not looking, and a small frown crosses her face when neither of the 
  men are looking at her.

On the contrary, once Paul enters the house and Shenner is more visible, Dr. 
  Nighman eyes the girl with a mixture of curiosity and something a little 
  less defineable. He looks back to his son his expression a little suspicious 
  and not all that approving before he closes the door. Paul, his back to his 
  father, misses all of this as he puts down his things in an out of the way 
  corner of the room. Turning around he gestures to Shenner, walking toward 
  her. "Shenner, this is my father, Dr. Xavier Nighman." He looks at his 
  father and frowing at the expression on his face he says in a firm voice, 
  "This is my assistant, Shenner."

The redheaded girl straightens under Xavier Nighman's scrutiny; Paul can 
  recognize this as her 'bristling' look, though her voice is quite steady as 
  she appends, "Shenneret Veery. Sir."

Paul's head turns abruptly at Shenner's voice, his expression surprised for a 
  second, before he manages to cover it. His father, however, does not miss 
  the look. He raises an eyebrow, taking in the girls obvious youth, the fact 
  that Paul did not introduce her properly, and the subsequent surprise at her 
  voicing it herself. "Miss," he replies tersely to Shenner's 
  introduction, but his expression isn't quite as harsh in that brief moment. 
  "Have a seat, may I bring you something to drink?" he asks politely enough, 
  but his gaze leaves hers as he walks toward the doorway. As he passes Paul 
  he flashes son an disdainful glance. "Assistant? Is that the term they're 
  using these days?" he asks sotte vocce to Paul, his meaning clear and 
  expression disapproving.

"Thank you, sir, that would be very kind." Shenner's tenorish voice remains 
  restrained, as do the girl's movements, as she seeks out and claims what 
  looks like an appropriate place to sit. The moment Dr. Nighman's back is 
  turned, though, her face is crossed with a rather blatant look of amazement 
  as well, as though she hadn't expected her own words.

Dr. Nighman nods and vanishes through the doorway without asking Paul if he 
  would like anything. Not like it would probably have been a good idea, as 
  Paul's eyes are bright with rage at the old man's insinuations. He draws up 
  his internal strings of control, going hard and cold inside. He turns and 
  walks over to a large couch that is against the far wall of the room. It is 
  in fact, the only place where one might be able to sit, being the only 
  surface in the room that isn't covered in something. He doesn't seat 
  himself, but stands by it, perhaps because it also gives him a good vantage 
  point from which to view the rest of the room.
He clenches his teeth as he looks around at a room that could have been the 
  same one he stormed out of eleven years ago. Unlike Canto's home, tasteful 
  and elegant, this room, in fact the whole house, looks like it is only one 
  giant study and research center for a bachelor. Stacks of files, papers, 
  books, machines, computers, scanners, discs, holocubes, and any other format 
  you might information stored in are everywhere ... there are several chairs 
  in the room who have probably never supported a human being, or any other 
  living being, in their entire lives. Paul, not being able to resist a small 
  fraction of curiousity, peers at the screen that is currently up on the 
  computer that dominates a huge desk that is on the same wall as the main 
  door, scanning the contents curiously to see what his father is currently 
  working on in his standard avid mode.

Shen's expression quickly settles itself back into neutrality -- though her 
  gaze does hold a flicker of worry as it follows Paul around the room. She 
  just sits quietly on that selfsame couch Paul has approached, but says 
  nothing, simply watches him reacquaint himself with the place.
The girl's hands, in the meantime, fidget with the shoulder strap of her 
  carisak, providing her an outlet for her unease.

The older man returns, handing Shenner a glass with little more than a nod. He 
  then stands as well, looking at Paul passively. "So, what could possibly 
  bring you back now ... as I recall you swore you'd never set foot in this 
  house again."

Paul stands somewhat stiffly, but the internal coldness that he cultivates 
  makes his face and voice equally passive. "Well, business circumstances 
  sometimes require personal sacrifices," he states coldly, and there is a 
  strange timbre to the phrase, as if it held a double meaning.

If it does, Dr. Nighman doesn't acknowledge it as such other than to blink. 
  "What do you want then Xavier?" he asks plainly.

Shenner offers a calm thank-you for the offered drink, then glances at it to 
  determine what it actually is before she begins to sip at it. Her eyes 
  darken as it begins to be plain that here, as on the shuttle with the other 
  men in their party, she is going to be ignored. The thought makes her 
  features harden, at least while no one can see; nevertheless, stoically, she 
  settles back to pay attention to what Paul and his father have to say, 
  determined to save everything for reference even if she has to play 
  wallflower. And at the name by which Paul's father calls him, she lifts her 
  eyebrows.

The drink, a dull brown colored fluid, smells slightly of lemon and herbs, and 
  upon first sip seems to be some kind of chilled tea, sweetened only 
  slightly, so it is a strange mix of sweet and bitter. Not unpleasant, but 
  definitely different.

Paul's eyes emit a small flash of anger that he immediately buries. "You can 
  call me Paul or you can call me Dr. Nighman. I changed my name some years 
  ago, I would ask you to respect that choice." he almost growls.

His father gives a soft snort of derision, "Well, you didn't respect the 
  choice that your mother and I made when you were born," he replies archly. 
  "And I don't give anyone a title unless they not only gained it though 
  schooling but earned the honor of a PhD by putting it to good use," he 
  rebukes his son casually. "But nevermind that, you mentioned something about 
  the boxes that belonged to Furlain Trukathit in your mail, and yes, they're 
  still at the University. What do you want with them?"

Shenner's face tightens further at Xavier Nighman's insult to Paul's title; 
  for a brief instant, the kid looks almost as if _she_ had been the one 
  insulted. She keeps drinking the tea, but barely notices its taste now.

A credit to the amount of control he has amassed in the past few minutes, 
  Paul's eyes merely narrow into icy slits. "I want to examine the contents 
  and pull any of the Mandalorian notes and artifacts to be returned to 
  Mandalore." 

"For a pretty penny, I'm sure," his father snipes nastily in a tone that 
  somehow manages to still sound scholarly, his expression highly disapproving 
  of the shady shabby life he perceives his son to live.

Paul's control falters. He then turns to Shenner. "We're going," he growls at 
  her tersely before returning his gaze to his father. "I'm sorry that I've 
  disturbed you," he mutters darkly. "I'll come to your office to finish the 
  arrangements then." He spins and begins to gather his belongings up before 
  stopping in front of his father again, but all he says is, "You wanted me to 
  have your name, but mother wanted me to be Paul ... I would have thought you 
  would be grateful that you didn't have to share your name with a 
  -criminal-," he replies, his voice almost a snarl.

Shenner wordlessly sets down her glass on the nearest available surface. Her 
  face now white and set, she bobs her head a single time to Paul, before 
  rising and replacing her carisak on her shoulder, and lifting up her guitar 
  case.

In a surprising move that catches Paul off guard, his father blocks the door. 
  "Where do you think you're going?" He sounds cross, but for those who might 
  be a little more rational of mind, there is also a tint of panic in the 
  older man's voice.

Dropping the icy shield back into place, Paul replies, "To find a room at the 
  Peck Tavern Inn." His father looks at him and then blusters, "Well that is 
  ridiculous, there's plenty of room here ..." Paul merely says, "No thank 
  you, we wouldn't wish to inconvenience you any further." The older man's 
  face grows more set, "I insist, please, stay," he replies, his tone 
  softening slightly.

Paul's eyes narrow again. "Why, don't want the whole city to know that Dr. 
  Xavier Nighman wouldn't even invite his own son into his home?"

The older Corellian stands there for a moment. "I insist, if you want to 
  inspect Furlain's personal effects tomorrow." Although his voice is firm, 
  and then implication blackmail at best, there is still a strange undertone 
  to the man's voice, a hint of desperation. Perhaps that is what Paul 
  responds to, or perhaps he takes the older man at his word and is unwilling 
  to risk it. "Where will we stay?"

Shenner stands there, green eyes flicking between the two men, her mouth drawn 
  into a taut small dash. She does not fidget, though her face suggests she 
  might like to, as she listens to father and son spar with one another. 
  Discomfort slowly builds in her expression, along with her annoyance at the 
  way Paul's being treated, more annoying than her own being ignored.

Looking down at Shenner for the first time since he gave her the tea, he nods 
  briefly and looks back to Paul. "You two can stay in your old room," he 
  offers dispassionately.

"My old room?" he queries suspiciously, glancing also at Shenner for a moment. 
  He absently reaches for her hand and finding it, takes it in his own and 
  squeezes it slightly. "I don't understand."

His father shrugs his shoulders. "It's still your room," he says casually, "I 
  haven't touched it since you left." To that, Paul just stares at the man in 
  disbelief.

Shen does not miss Paul's hand, and she squeezes his back gratefully, though 
  she keeps her expression as neutral as possible and lets his hand drop from 
  hers when Paul lets it do so.

Surprisingly enough, Paul keeps his grip on hers, not hard, but firm. His 
  father turns and idly locks the door, as if this is his nightly ritual, but 
  it does have the distinct feeling that he is deliberately locking his son in 
  the house. "I didn't need the space," he mutters, "and I didn't want to have 
  to deal with the possibility that I would throw away something that you 
  would want some day, so I just left it." While the man's tone is gruff, 
  almost dismissive, it also isn't terribly convincing.

Paul stares at the man, who brushes past him and Shen on his way to his desk, 
  as if the entire conversation that just occured never even happened. He 
  clicks on the computer and then glances back at the pair of them. To set the 
  record straight Paul announces firmly, "Fine, Shenneret will take my room 
  and I will take the couch." His father nods distractedly and turns back to 
  the screen before him, already obsessed by what is there. "Fine, you know 
  where everything is ... feel free to eat whatever you want," he notes idly, 
  sitting himself down at his desk after removing the stack of dics to be 
  graded from his seat and settling them precariously on said desk. Paul just 
  stares at the man, the wind having been knocked out of his sails by the 
  apparent dismissal. He face then sets again, grimly, and he murmurs, "Come 
  on Shen," and begins to lead her toward his old room.

Still not uttering a word yet, Shenner nods and pads after her companion, 
  hoisting her guitar case up into a better position as she moves to follow 
  him off through the house.

The house is pretty small. Heading down a narrow hall you pass a kitchen on 
  your left, a study on your right, a closed door on your left and then 
  another closed door on your right, at which Paul stops. He points to the 
  door at the end of the hall and mutters, "Bathroom," before opening the door 
  to his room, waving his hand over a light trigger and slowly walking in, 
  looking a little surprised to find that the room, indeed, is just as he had 
  left it.
Like the rest of the house, the bedroom is full of clutter, but it looks quite 
  different. There are brighter colors here, more odd gadgets and toy like 
  objects, models, a somewhat outdated computer, posters of different 
  landscapes from different planets, and tons and tons of shelves that are 
  filled with books, discs, holocubes, and the like. On one shelf there are 
  multiple awards and trophies that have the look of being stuffed in there 
  without thought, just to get them out of the way. Paul walks over to the 
  bed, which he notes curiously seems to be freshly made up and sits down on 
  it heavily as he looks around at his past made manifest.

Shenner slips into the room in Paul's wake, and her gaze tracks slowly across 
  the room as she pays rather more attention to this particular portion of the 
  house. But her green regard finally settles on Paul himself, and she asks 
  gravely, "You okay?"

Returning her somber expression with one of his own, he shrugs and nods 
  somewhat awkwardly. "Yeah, it was in some ways worse than I expected and 
  better," he admits a little hoarsly. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he 
  murmurs before echoing back to her, "Are you okay?"

Shen's mouth twists in a half-smile, half-smirk. "Who, me? Sure... he hardly 
  said anything to me, anyway." The girl comes a bit farther into the room; 
  now that she's out of sight of the elder Nighman, though, her face begins to 
  relax somewhat, and her eyes take on a bit of bemusement.

A bitter expression flits across his face as he recalls the one shot his 
  father made about Shenner, but figuring that the girl must have not 
  overheard it, he makes no comment. "Just as well really ... but watch your 
  back, now that the main event has occured, you're fair game." He tries to 
  joke about it, but the humor falls just a little flat. He then just watches 
  her for a moment, suddenly extremely grateful to have someone in the foxhole 
  with him, so to speak. "Welcome to my past," he murmurs.

Shenner's half-smirk shifts a little closer to a smile. "Guess we both kinda 
  got bit by pasts tonight," she murmurs back, before continuing impulsively, 
  trying to cheer her friend, "Show me whatcha got here?"

He puzzles over that for a minute, confused and then it clicks and he grins. 
  "Shenneret Veery?" he asks curiously, and with a touch of delight in his 
  tone. "Is that your full name?" He smiles a little, running her first name 
  through his mind and deciding that he very much likes its full version. 
  "Where did -that- come from?"

Shenner can be seen to blush, as she glances off sheepishly at the trophies 
  before looking back at the Corellian nearby. "It's my, uh, name, yeah," she 
  mumbles. "Ain't too sure why I brought it up, really... it just... kinda 
  happened."

Offering one hand to her, Paul smiles warmly. "The old man can be a little 
  imtimidating," he admits wryly. "Shenneret," he says again, just to hear the 
  name aloud one more time. His smile widens. "I like it."

Shenner sets down her things and steps to Paul, taking the hand he's offered. 
  She says lamely, "I guess... all this business with your father... got my 
  thinking about my ma, yah know?" Now, though, as if she's suddenly had 
  something open within her that needs to allow words out through, she rambles 
  on hastily, "I-I don't usually like to think about her, and she named me, 
  yah know, but I guess... I guess I kinda thought it'd sound better and..." 
  Her voice drops a little more. "Sound better to your dad, I mean." Finally, 
  at Paul's smile, though, she begins to smile a little more, although she 
  snorts and says derisively, "It don't really fit me. Shenneret, that is."

Paul holds her hand as she rambles for a bit. He then lifts it slightly. "It 
  will," he assures her somewhat mysteriously. With another smile he adds, 
  "Thank you for braving the Dragon's lair with me m'lady Shenneret Veery," 
  and with a small wink he bestows a courtly kiss upon her exposed knuckles.

Shenner blinks, then chuckles roughly, as she scolds, "C'mon, pal, I already 
  feel like I'm havin' delusions of grandeur..." But she's grinning, despite 
  herself. "You're, uh, welcome."

"Delusions of granduer?" he echoes curiously. "What are you talking about?"

Shenner's mouth quirks a bit closer back to smirk. "Do I look like a 
  'Shenneret' to you?" she parries.

Paul's eyes gleam mischeviously for a moment. "You will." He releases her hand 
  and looks about the room again. "So, what did you want me tell you about? 
  It's not like this place requires a tour or anything ... it's just an 
  accumlation of my junk from when I was a kid." The strain of the evening 
  starts to wash back over Paul, making him feel unexpectedly tired as well as 
  unwilling to leave the relative safety of his old room.

Shenner wrinkles her nose at Paul's second cryptic allusion, but says only, 
  settling down to sit beside him, "Oh, I dunno... whatever's... special in 
  here, I guess? Whatever you'd like to talk about." She grins a bit. "If it's 
  all junk, though, just say, 'It's all junk, kid,' and I'll shaddup."

"It's all junk, kid, shaddup," he teases her with a grin. He sits a little 
  forward and looks around. "Okay, the two credit tour here. This," he says 
  bouncing up and down, "was my bed, and a pretty comfy one it is too. That," 
  he says pointing to his desk, "is my desk, which contains gazillions of 
  pompous papers, inflated ideas, and ridiculous theories. These," he says, 
  gesturing to the bookshelves to his left, "are all of my books and reference 
  materials ... if you think I'm a geek now, you should have seen me back then 
  ... I practically lived in here or the University library." He looks around 
  then a little and points out some of various robot creatures here and there. 
  "Those guys are little robot prototypes I was playing around with for 
  awhile, but nothing ever came of it." He shrugs randomly, unsure why Shen 
  would find any of this interesting.

Shenner, regardless, is apparently fascinated, and she grins lopsidedly at the 
  gentle self-deprecation in that short tour. "What, you were tryin' to make 
  little droids?" she says, intrigued, leaning over to peer at one near the 
  bed. "Is it hard?"

Paul shrugs and reaches over for the one that she is peering at, checking to 
  see if it has any power left in it's cells. "Yeah, well, I'd been to a 
  couple of dig sites and was thinking that what they could really use was a 
  miniature probe droid that could do a number of crucial tasks to help 
  determine whether an area was worth excavating. This little fellow was 
  supposed to be able to analyze the soil, probe for artifacts shards, 
  determine soil density and stability, and carried a carbon dater, so areas 
  could be dug up according to age." He absently flicks a switch and the 
  little droid's head spins around with a hum, and points the carbon dater at 
  Paul, who jerks back slightly in surprise as the droid buzzes, "Dater: 
  Twenty-nine years, inappropriate artifact, abort di-iii-ggg-gggg," and the 
  voice trails off as the last bit of energy in the practically dead cell is 
  consumed. "Well," Paul replies huffily to the droid, "Thank you very much!" 
  He chuckles and passes it to Shen. "I never got all the bugs out," he 
  finishes.

Shenner giggles suddenly, watching, eyes brightening in wonder. "What, it can 
  tell how old you are?" Handed the droidlet, she peers at it, turning it 
  about in her hands.

Paul watches her handle the droid. "Yeah, when it's charged up ... it's got a 
  carbon dater in it, which archaeolgists use nowadays to determine how old 
  various objects and artifacts are by the breakdown in their carbon 14 ratio."

"What's carbon 14?" Shenner pipes as she squints at the little droid 
  critically. Experimentally she points it at herself, and appears 
  disappointed when the thing doesn't magically turn itself on again. "It can 
  just scan stuff and see it?"

Paul rises and wanders over to his desk and starts to rummage though the 
  drawers, looking for a spare energy cell. He pulls out many papers and such 
  and then pulls out a tiny cell which he peers at thoughtfully. He walks over 
  to Shen and opens a small compartment, pops out the old chip and sticks in 
  this one, closing it shut with a click. "Carbon is an element found in 
  pretty much everything that exists ... of course, planets that don't have 
  carbon as a major element in their system have other daters, like silicon 
  daters or uridium daters. The little droid's head spins again and the probe 
  points to Shen and it chirps brightly again, "Dater: Eighteen years, 
  inappropriate artifact, abort dig." Paul stares at the little device and 
  thinks to himself, "Dater, but I don't even know her" but he is very careful 
  not to verbalize his thoughts.

Shenner blinks. "What?" she yelps at the droidlet.

Paul peers at Shenner and then takes the little droid from her hands. "Hold 
  on, let me see if I can tweak something here," he murmurs thoughtfully. 
  Reaching under the bed he pulls out a tool box and opening it up, he removes 
  a few very delicate tools. He cracks open the little droid and begins to 
  fiddle with it's innards.

"It said I'm eighteen," the girl says accusingly, as she lets Paul tinker. She 
  leans over to peer at what he's doing, though, expression keen with interest.

"When I'm done with it, it's going to say a lot more than that," he promises 
  absently, chewing on his bottom lip in concentration as he works the little 
  device.

"Well.... how good's this carbon dating supposed to be?" Shenner demands, and 
  she lifts her gaze to Paul as he speaks. "What else will it do?"

"Huh?" he murmurs in a puzzled voice, his eyes intent on his work. "Whaddya 
  mean, like will it dance and play the marimba?"
Paul abruptly sits up and walks over to the computer, turning it on and then 
  digging out a plug with which he connects the droid to the machine. He hits 
  a few keys to open the droids programming index and then he begins to tweak 
  a number of the receptor commands.

Shenner watches all this in evident bafflement, even as she says again in 
  general protest, "It said I'm eighteen, Paul! Didja have it set right?"

Paul lets out a soft hrmm-mmm and disconnects the little droid and shuts it's 
  case. "Let's see what it says now," he murmurs as he hands the diminutive 
  droid back to Shenner and flicks the on switch again. The head spins, the 
  probe points, but this time it takes a few seconds, as if the little droid 
  were running more than just the one simple carbon test. Finally it chirps, 
  "Dater - focused configuration: Eighteen years, seventeen days. Insufficient 
  data for hours, please advise." Paul just stares at the absurdly cute 
  mechanical creature in Shen's hands and then he looks into Shenner's eyes. 
  "Happy birthday."

Shenner breathes, startled, "I'm eighteen..."

Paul sits down next to Shenner and begins to think backward, trying to figure 
  out what the date was seventeen days ago. He finally mumurs, "April 11th."

Shenner starts laughing a little, awestruck. "I'll be karkin' damned... 
  yeah... yeah, that sounds right...." She turns to lift wide eyes to Paul's 
  face. "I'm eighteen!"

Paul just smiles at her delight. "Uh huh, you're eighteen," he echoes. "What, 
  you thought you would be seventeen forever or something?" he teases her.

"It... felt like it," Shenner mumbles. "Sometimes..."

"Well, congratulations, you're another year older. By the time you're as old 
  as me, you're going to be wishing you were seventeen again," he jokes 
  lightly. It's an ironic joke, because knowing what he knows now, Paul would 
  never choose to be seventeen again - the prelude to some of his most 
  precious memories and most painful regrets.

Shenner murmurs disbelievingly, "I'm eighteen... I'm... Shenneret Veery." But 
  there's an element of wonder to her voice, too, and she breathes this out as 
  though having just made a wondrous discovery.

Paul just sits still, not certain why this is such an astonishing discovery 
  for her ... a birthdate, well yes, that was special and new, but the fact 
  that she is now eighteen, what was the special significance of being one 
  year older than she was? He leans over and gives her cheek a small kiss. 
  "Congratulations," he murmurs in somewhat baffled amusement.

Shenner grins lopsidedly, shyly, and murmurs, "Eighteen means... grownup, at 
  least in Plawal, yah know? At least with the humans."

A gleam of understanding enters Paul's eyes. "Oh, I see ... Corellia has a 
  legal age I think, but it's something obscenely low, like fifteen." He 
  snorts with astonishment. "I thought it was great at fifteen and shocking 
  now ... man I am getting old."

Shenner huhs. "You're not old!" Shenner quirks her head, then. "Hey -- it said 
  you're twenty-nine."

Paul shrugs. "Yeah, my odometer flipped over a few days ago I think."

Shenner smiles a little more gently. "Then we both got birthdays. We oughtta 
  do somethin'!"

"I guess a celebration wouldn't be unheard of," he murmurs lightly. "Have 
  something in mind?"

The girl grins, bouncing a little on the bed, smiling up at the man beside her 
  even as she yawns a little. "I dunno... somethin' fun... though somethin' 
  short so we don't use too much time 'cause we gotta do the job, right? 
  Unless we did somethin' _really_ cool after Mandalore? We could go see 
  Jessalyn and include her too, maybe...!"

Shenner's face falls a little, then. "At least... if she's okay..."

Paul frowns a little at the reminder and he nods. "I'll look into it and see 
  if there is any news," he reassures the girl ... well, woman, at his side. 
  "You should decide what you would like to do that is fun ... we can do it 
  either here or Corellia, or later after we're done with the job, we could go 
  to Yavin ...or maybe take a little vacation somewhere delightful," he 
  suggests as a possibility.

Shenner smiles wanly now, looking up into Paul's eyes. "I'll think about it... 
  we can try to call Jessalyn tomorrow maybe?"

Paul nods. "Yeah sure, we'll give her a call tomorrow." He rises from the bed 
  and runs an absent hand through his hair. "Remind me to get this cut before 
  we go, okay?" he mutters in a complete non-sequitor. He looks like he is 
  suddenly at a loss as to what to do. He peers at his chrono and wonders if 
  his father has gone to bed, not wanting to have to confront the man twice in 
  one night.

Shenner bobs her head a little, quietly. "I... guess we should crash?"

Paul turns back to Shen and shrugs his shoulders. "You tired?" For some 
  reason, Paul has the strangest desire just to place his head in Shenner's 
  lap and have her stroke his forehead until all the fears and stress pressing 
  on him would just fall away. He shakes his head a little at the unexpected 
  idea, wondering where the hell it came from.

"A little," the girl admits, "but... kinda wound up, too, I guess... with 
  everything. You know?"

Paul returns to the bed, staring at Shen a little oddly, but he just nods. 
  "Yeah, I'm feeling the same - tired and worked up at the same time ... it's, 
  it's not a very comfortable feeling," he admits awkwardly.

"We could talk a while...?" Shenner offers. "I'd... say we should jam, except 
  I don't know if it'd bug your Da..."

Sitting on the floor, with the bed against his back Paul leans his head 
  backward, resting it there for a moment. "He's never been a "Da"," he says 
  in a casual almost unconcerned voice. "He's been a "sir" and "father" and 
  "doctor", but never a "Da"." Closing his eyes wearily, Paul mumbles, "So, 
  what do you want to talk about?"

Shenner pauses a moment, not replying; then, on impulse, she scoots over on 
  the bed, behind Paul. Her hand reaches shyly down... and begins to gently 
  stroke Paul's brow, smoothing his hair out of his face. "I dunno... tell me 
  about your mother, maybe? You told me about your father, but not much about 
  her...."

As soon as her hand touches his brow, Paul lets out a soft grateful sigh, as 
  if he'd been holding his breath for a long time, waiting for this very 
  action. He doesn't say anything for awhile, just leans there, head back, 
  eyes closed and breathes, letting Shen's touch take him back to a safe place 
  in his mind. "She died when I was five, almost six," he breathes. "I loved 
  her," he adds, as if that somehow told the whole story right there. He 
  pauses, and for a moment it seems like that's all he is going to say. Then 
  he takes a deep breath. "We used to take naps together every day. She was a 
  music teacher and played the piano and sang ... she was really good. She 
  gave me my first guitar when I was four. She was very beautiful." The words 
  come out in soft little broken sentences - as if he just spoke each memory 
  out loud as it came to him, without bothering to try to link them up in any 
  particular order. He points up randomly to his bedside table. "There should 
  be a picture there unless he moved it," he mumbles.

Shenner glances in that direction, though she doesn't move, and her hand keeps 
  up its shy rhythmic stroking along Paul's forehead and back through his 
  hair. "I see it," she observes softly, to let him know she looked. "I see 
  her."

Paul merely mmm-mmm's in response, not sounding concerned one way or the 
  other. Besides, with Shenner's cool light fingertips on his brow, he can't 
  imagine anything hurting him right now. He releases another deep sigh as his 
  hand runs through his hair. "You must be psychic," he murmurs. Then, 
  reverting back, "I miss her still sometimes. She was my muse for many years, 
  and I didn't even know it."

"I ain't got a picture of my momma," Shenner murmurs back, bringing her other 
  hand over to join the first. "I....been startin' to wish I did, kinda." She 
  does not tell Paul that he'd just reminded her of how he'd let her rub his 
  neck on the shuttle on Tatooine... nor of how she'd helped him fight off the 
  migraine in the hotel room. She keeps it to herself that she'd had the 
  impulse that maybe she could do something like that again... that he'd 
  looked like he needed it... and she says nothing, either of the glow warming 
  her from within as it seems she's done the right thing.

"I know it's probably painful," he mumbles, "and you don't have to tell me if 
  you don't want to, but was your mother ever, well, a Mom to you? I mean, did 
  she take care of you, or were you pretty much on your own all your life?" As 
  the other hand joins the first, Paul shifts slightly to try to bring himself 
  closer to her ministering touch.

For a short time, Shen says nothing, and perhaps she is considering not 
  offering a reply. But at last, in between the motions of her hands, she 
  murmurs, "She... wanted to take care of me. She... wanted me to do better 
  with my life than she did... taught me how to read. When she could."

Paul opens his eyes, staring at Shen upside down for a moment, just to let her 
  know that he is listening ... that he cares. He doesn't make any comment 
  though, just nods his head ever so slightly.

Shenner smiles a little, weakly. "I... miss my momma, too," she whispers.

Reaching up with one hand, Paul tenderly touches Shen's cheek. "I'm sorry," he 
  murmurs empathetically.

Shen closes one of her hands over Paul's, and smiles a little more, 
  one-sidedly, bobbing her head a little, though with a "thank you" in her 
  eyes.

Leaving his hand there for a moment, Paul regards her for awhile, just taking 
  in the color of her eyes minutely. Then he lets his hand drop away slowly 
  and closes his eyes for another moment, thinking that perhaps he should go 
  and let Shen get some rest.

Green, dusky green, tinged with grey, are Shenner's eyes. And if you look 
  deeply enough, hints of gold, like little bits of sunshine peeking through a 
  cover of leaves. "I'll try not to mess up anything in here, okay?" she 
  promises lightly.

Pulling himself up and turning around, Paul leans on the edge of the bed and 
  smiles at Shen. "Don't fret about it one way or the other," he assures her, 
  "I honestly didn't expect a single object in this room to still be in 
  existance." He then leans against the bed frame, using it to push himself up 
  off the floor.

Shenner nods softly, watching Paul get up.

Walking to the door, he touches it uncertainly, not knowing what to expect on 
  the other side. "Sleep well Shen, I'll see you tomorrow ... we'll go check 
  out the boxes and earn our keep for a change," he jokes lightly, looking 
  back at her thoughtfully. He then frowns and walks back, and peers under the 
  bed, digging around for a moment before he pulls out a somewhat ragged 
  stuffed shethkan, a cat like animal indigenous to Corellia. "Her name is 
  Sub," he says in an almost embarrassed voice, "'cause she was my substitute 
  for a real one," he mumbles as he hands it to Shen. "She'll guard you," he 
  adds strangely, not knowing why he suddenly thought that this would mean 
  something to Shen. He crosses over to the doorway and opens it.

Shenner's expression turns tender, and she murmurs quietly, "Thank you... good 
  night, Paul."
Shenner looks down at the little stuffed felinoid, and grins.

Paul ducks his head a little and smirks somewhat self deprecatingly. "Night 
  Shen," he murmurs again before heading out the door and letting it shut 
  behind him.

Shenner remains sitting there quietly on the bet there, for several long 
  moments, after Paul departs. That glow in her chest is still there, she 
  notes to herself, along with a strange but not unpleasant tightness... not 
  only at Paul's presence, and having touched him, but with the sudden impulse 
  to acknowledge her full name again... and the discovery that she had turned 
  eighteen when she wasn't looking. The warm tightness in her chest, though, 
  had with it a lump in her throat at the recollection of Jessalyn and Luke 
  having sensed her in danger... and here tonight, having witnessed Paul's 
  strained reunion with his father. _If that's what fathers are like,_ she 
  thinks, _I ain't sure I want one._
At last, though, the girl kicks off her boots and curls gingerly up on Paul's 
  bed, almost as an afterthought drawing down the bedclothes and crawling in 
  under them. She lies awake for a time, her mind very full... but she has 
  another impulse to hold Sub to her, and that's strangely comforting. So, 
  too, is the memory of her own mother, as she drops eventually off into sleep.

[End log.]