Chapter Text
“Obi-Wan!” Dex calls out the moment he sees him. The besalisk makes his way around the counter, and Obi-Wan waits for the bone-crushing hug he knows is coming. Dex’s Diner is as busy as ever, and the lunch crowd adds a low chatter in the background.
“It’s been a while, Dex.” The greeting comes out in a rush as Dex picks up the padawan and squeezes the air out of him. He hasn’t seen Dex since before Melida/Daan. The familiar hug soothes Obi-Wan's nerves, and he can't quite help grinning into Dex’s shoulder as he hugs back.
“So it has. You haven’t been here in months.” Dex keeps one of his upper arms on Obi-Wan's shoulder and steps back. “What can I get for you? The special is always good.”
“I need a favor, Dex.” Some of his nerves must still show on his face because the besalisk frowns.
“You in some trouble?”
Obi-Wan grins back and shrugs. “Not yet.”
--
“What do you need?” Dex asks as he returns from the kitchen when the lunch rush is over and sits down in the booth where Obi-Wan is just finishing his nerf burger.
The kid looks up at him, and Dex once more feels a flash of worry for the young Jedi. He hasn’t seen Obi-Wan in some time, and now that he is here, Dex can see how skinny the kid has become. He had felt it when he hugged him, and the dark circles under his eyes do nothing to ease his concerns, neither does the measuring gaze Obi-Wan levels at him.
“I need to contact a Mandolorian.”
Dex blinks. That was not what he had expected. But then again, Obi-Wan had never done as he expected, not even the first time they had met when the little Jedi had looked at him and decided to save his life. Not that Obi-Wan would ever take credit for it. According to him, he had been at the right place at the right time and only done what everyone else would have done. Dex wants to snort at that. As if anyone else would have been mad enough to get him out of that mess.
Before Dex has a chance to answer him, Obi-Wan pulls some flimsi out of his robes and hands it over.
“Specifically, this Mandalorian.” Obi-Wan points to a drawing on the flimsi. It depicts a Mandalorian in full armor with a mythosaur skull sigil on his shoulder plate. Dex sucks in a breath.
“You sure about this Obi-Wan?” Their gaze meets, and Dex gestures with the flimsi. “Mandalorians and Jedi do not have a good history, and this particular mando does not like Jedi at all.”
“You know who it is?” Yet again, the kid surprises him with the sudden urgency in his voice and the hope in his eyes. Dex hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Sure do. I used to do business with him before I had a career change. What do you need from him?”
Obi-Wan leans back in the booth, crosses his arms, bites his lip, and doesn’t answer. Dex keeps his face neutral and tries not to smile at the nervous baby Jedi in front of him.
“If you need to hire him to kill someone for you, I can point you in the direction of someone cheaper.”
“NO, I don’t- That’s not-” Obi-Wan splutters in indignation. “The Jedi do not kill people!”
The look of outrage on the kid's face forces Dex into laughter, but he quickly sobers when it’s replaced with a look of despair and Obi-Wan hunches in on himself.
“At least that’s what I have always been told.” The kid sounded devastated. Dex is worried now. The kid has never been prone to overreactions.
“Hey, what's going on?” He keeps his voice soft or as soft as he can. Dex is not the gentlest of sentients, but he can give it a shot for Obi-Wan's sake.
The answer he gets does nothing to reassure him.