Harry ran his hand slowly over the side of the box.
Ahsoka had gone back to studying her glass, deliberately avoiding looking too closely at whatever private business was taking place between Harry and the bartender. Still, she looked up sharply when she felt a small, unmistakable surge in the Force ripple through the air.
Harry either didn't notice her sudden attention or simply didn't care. The box opened along a seam that hadn't been visible a moment before, the panels sliding apart with smooth, silent precision. Inside were several packages of varying sizes. Harry leaned back in his chair and began sorting through them with idle efficiency, as though this were nothing more than a mildly interesting diversion.
He placed several thin datacards into one neat pile, then nudged a few other parcels—small, dense lumps wrapped in dark material—into another. The items that weren't datacards vanished into his jacket with quick, practiced movements.
Harry hummed softly to himself before closing the case. He ran his hand over it once more in a curious, almost affectionate gesture, then pushed it back across the bar. The bartender accepted it without hesitation and disappeared into the back to store it away.
"Interesting?" she asked lightly, one brow arching as she returned.
"Anything?" the bartender added, curiosity plain in her tone.
Harry shrugged as he slid one of the datacards into a data reader. "I dunno. Guess we'll find out." His lips twitched with amusement. "Though… I do wonder if you 'accidentally' slipped any more pictures of yourself in there like the last time I was gone."
The bartender winked. "You'll just have to check all the cards to find out, won't you?"
Harry chuckled and took a sip of his tea, flicking through streams of information on the reader. He hummed quietly, posture relaxed, appearing utterly oblivious to the rest of the bar.
Ahsoka, on the other hand, couldn't stop watching him. There was something unsettling about his calm, about the way the Force seemed to bend ever so slightly around him—
Something cold pressed against the back of her head.
"Don't move, Jedi," a harsh voice growled behind her.
Ahsoka froze.
It took only a fraction of a second to recognize the unmistakable shape and weight of a blaster barrel resting against her skull. She cursed herself inwardly for allowing her attention to wander so completely that someone had managed to sneak up on her. She cursed herself again for something far more obvious.
She didn't have her lightsaber.
Leaving the Jedi Order had been a spur-of-the-moment decision earlier that afternoon, made in the aftermath of the trial once the courts had finally been forced to acknowledge her innocence. In the chaos of it all, she had—stupidly, she admitted in hindsight—failed to reclaim the only weapon she truly trusted.
Now she was paying for it.
With no better option, Ahsoka tried to bluff her way out. She spoke slowly, forcing a tremor into her voice. "J–Jedi? Me? N-no, you've got the wrong person."
At the same time, she reached for the Force, attempting a subtle mind trick. The effort faltered almost immediately. Not being able to see her target made it difficult, and the emotional stress didn't help.
A soft snort came from beside her.
Harry.
She couldn't tell whether he was laughing at the situation or at her clumsy attempt to manipulate her attacker under pressure—but the sound was unmistakably amused.
Her jaw tightened. She wondered what kind of person could laugh while someone had a blaster pressed to their head and decided that, given the chance, she'd very much like to make him regret it.
Harry, for his part, didn't even look up. He continued scrolling through his data reader, lifted his cup, and took another sip of tea as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening.
Disturbingly, his indifference was mirrored by much of the bar. A few patrons glanced over briefly, assessing the situation, then turned away. Others pretended nothing was happening at all.
Ahsoka wasn't surprised. This was how things worked in less reputable areas of Coruscant. No one intervened unless they absolutely had to. No one wanted to risk catching a stray blaster bolt.
The bartender, however, looked anything but calm. Her eyes were wide as she stared past Ahsoka's shoulder and to either side. That alone told Ahsoka what she needed to know.
There was more than one of them.
The voice behind her sneered. "Don't bother lying. We saw your trial on the holonet."
There was a burst of laughter from at least two others nearby.
"Me and the boys laughed our heads off when the Jedi Council looked like they'd eaten dianoga poodu at the end," the man continued. "Best entertainment we've had in weeks."
Ahsoka clenched her teeth.
"But now word's out that you're no longer with the Order," he went on, voice dripping with satisfaction. "And that means you've got no backup, little Jedi."
Her frown deepened. How had the information spread so fast? She'd turned down readmittance only hours ago.
"You're worth a very nice bounty," he said. "Plenty of interested parties."
Her eyes widened despite herself.
"I'm just happy my crew and I were already here," he added, the barrel of the blaster never shifting. "Lucky enough to run into you first."
Ahsoka's stomach sank. Not only was word out that she'd left the Order—someone had placed a bounty on her head.
Here. On Coruscant.
The excitement in his voice was unmistakable. "Six figures," he said eagerly. "Nearly seven, if you're alive."
Her breath hitched.
"Dead works too," he continued, his tone turning cold. "And I don't want any of your Jedi tricks. You even think about it, and I'll take the dead payout without a second thought."
Anger flickered across Ahsoka's face. Being accused of treason had already been one of the worst moments of her life. Now someone—likely one of the many enemies she'd made during the war—was trying to profit from it.
She squared her shoulders and forced calm into her voice. "I don't want any trouble."
"Good," the man said immediately.
A pair of binder cuffs clattered onto the bar in front of her.
"Then you'll put those on."
Ahsoka stared at them. Her eyes flicked across the counter, searching for anything she might use as a weapon. There was nothing—nothing but her cup and smooth durasteel.
"And if I don't?" she asked, buying time.
"Then we settle for dead," he replied. "Alive just pays better. And they didn't say how alive you had to be."
She turned her head slightly—
The blaster pressed harder against her skull.
"I said don't move," he snapped. "You move, you're dead. You twitch, you're dead. You do anything I don't like—dead."
The finality in his voice sent a chill through her.
Ahsoka closed her eyes briefly, reaching out with the Force, calculating distances, angles, possibilities. One push might work. Or it might get her killed before she could even stand.
Outnumbered. Unarmed. Surrounded.
For the first time since the trial ended, the weight of her new reality truly settled in.
And beside her, Harry took another quiet sip of tea, utterly unconcerned.