Ah yes, I forgot about this pic. Me at the toy store! Mel and I were having fun playing with Legos. Grey legos -- Imperial grey, mind you.

Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?

Title: Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?
Author(s): Ceillean
Timeframe: /
Characters: Ben, Luke, Mara
Genre: Humor
Summary: Ben meets a Ghost
Notes: This is for the Professor Literati's Christmas Roulette Challenge.

Somewhere in your vignette or short story you must include a character with the name, Tiny Tim. You must also include a ghost in your story.
The sentence I used was: Again the specter raised a cry and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands

Enjoy.

---

Ben sat against the headrest of his bed and pulled his knees to his chest. He didn’t know what time it was and he didn’t much care – his new game was way more interesting than sleeping. Uncle Han had given him an early Life Day gift, the new Gamer1300! He could hide it anywhere he wanted because it was so small!

Mara and Luke hadn’t been too happy about the gift because they feared it would keep Ben from his school work and Jedi training. He’d promised to keep up his work and so far he had. But his parents didn’t know about his late nights playing “Rebel Alliance vs. The Empire”.

Ben snickered as his holographic figure shot up a Stormtrooper and the white armor exploded into a hundred oddly shaped, glittering pieces. Ben was a really good player – and it was kind of astral getting to play his Dad in a real hologame. The name Luke Skywalker hadn’t come up of course – Ben guessed it had to do with legal reasons; grown-up stuff; boring stuff – but who else would be the hero of the Rebel Alliance? At least Ben had never heard of another Jedi Knight who’d blown up a Death Star.

There had only been one Death Star, hadn’t there?

Ben wrinkled his nose and paused his game. One Death Star or two? He’d been forced to sit through boring history lessons with Master Tionne and the topic had come up but he couldn’t quite recall…

He shrugged and continued to play, his little figure jumping into an open X-Wing.

Ben giggled. “On to blow up the bad guys!” he whispered in the dark of his small room. And just as the X-Wing lifted off towards space, Ben heard something that had nothing to do with the game. He stopped moving, stopped breathing and switched off the Gamer1300, listening intently. At six years old, he’d learned how to focus the Force on his surroundings and as he did so, he felt something was out of the ordinary.

Leaning across towards his nightstand, he flicked on his light and scanned the room with his eyes. His closet was ajar and he saw a few of his shirts in a messy pile – he grimaced. Mara wouldn’t like that too much and the cleaning droid would want to strangle him! Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to give the droid an emotion chip. She was one moody machine!

A few of his toys lay scattered on the carpeted floor, a plasteel cylinder in the corner showed his collection of stuffed animals. The tidiest place in his room was in fact his desk and only because he hardly ever used it.

Everything looked normal but it didn’t feel normal.

Slowly, Ben kicked the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His toes barely touched the floor as he sat there, listening.

A rushing sound and then something rattling…

Ben frowned as he jumped to the floor, narrowing his eyes. With tiny steps, he moved away from his bed towards the open closet doors. He scowled at the mess – yeah, the cleaning droid would have his head for this!

When he turned around, he stopped, gaping at what met his eyes. A shimmering form of a boy his age sat atop his mattress, dressed in rags with disheveled hair. He looked like a mixture between a hologram projection and a Force ghost, the ones he’d seen on the holonet a few times already. And yet something was amiss.

Maybe the fact that this ghost-apparition-thing was holding his Gameer1300! Force ghosts couldn’t hold things could they? And neither could hologram projections!

“Who are you?” Ben asked acidly, folding his arms in front of his chest. “And why are you on my bed playing my game?!” If Mara had been there to see him, she would have been so proud!

The boy looked up and smiled. Ben found it a bit disconcerting that he could look through him and tell the time on his chrono standing on his nightstand.

“You don’t mind, do you? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ben glared and hurried forward, snatching his Gamer1300 out of the boys’ hand. “It’s mine! Who are you?”

The boy shrugged his shoulder and jumped off the bed. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. How’d you get here anyway?”

“I wander the area at this time of the year.”

Ben arched a brow. “Huh?”

“Life Day!” The boy frowned. “Are you mentally impaired?”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Everyone knows about Life Day!”

“Yeah, so do I.” He raised his voice just a fraction. “Who are you?”

The boy walked closer and smiled brightly. “The name’s Tim. And who are you?”

Ben wrinkled his nose, as he looked the boy up and down. “Ben. Are you a ghost?”

Tim shrugged. “Looks like it, don’t it?”

“A Force ghost?”

“A what?”

“A Force ghost.”

Tim raised his brows. “What’s that?”

“I’m guessing that’s what you are?”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Never heard of it before. I’m just a ghost. I visit people on Life Day.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“Why?”

Tim turned on him and narrowed his eyes. “Stop saying that!”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll hurt you if you don’t!”

Ben’s lips quirked up into a little half smile. “I’d really, really like to see a ghost try and hurt me.”

“Well – “ The boy huffed out a breath. “I could curse you!”

“Curse me how?”

Tim took a step back and plopped back down on the bed. He seemed sad, Ben thought. Alone, maybe? “All ghosts can curse the living. I’ve never done it before.” His voice was quiet. “But you’re annoying so you might be my first!”

“What would you have to do?”

“Say a few words and wave my hands around.”

“Well, then say the words.”

Tim frowned. “You do know what a curse is, right?”

“I’m not stupid!” Ben said indignantly.

“Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim grinned and then shook his head. “Again the specter raised a cry and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.”

Ben arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“But it is!” Tim’s voice sounded squeaky to Ben’s ears.

“What does it do?”

“What does what do?”

“The curse, you stupid ghost!” Ben shouted, feeling exasperated with him. He could hardly believe it! He was arguing with a ghost!

Tim shrugged. “I dunno. I just read the line in a book last time I was here. Can we forget about it?” He asked, trailing his finger along the covers of the bed. “Can’t we just play? I’ve been bored for so long.”

“How long?”

“A few hundred years.”

“Seriously?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. You’re the first boy I’ve visited in a long time. Can we play or not?”

Ben shrugged and sighed. “Fine.” He gestured for the ghost to join him on the floor while he sat down cross-legged.

“My friends used to call me Tiny Tim, by the way.” The ghost said with a wistful smile.

“Because you’re short?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m short, too. Who cares?”




Luke stretched tired muscles – wincing at the audible pops – and leaned back in his chair. Mara sat opposite him at the table, sipping at a cup of caf while skimming through the latest news on her data pad.

He jumped suddenly, as he heard Ben pounding down the hall like a crazy-boy, “I saw a ghost last night!” He exclaimed with a bright smile as he hurried to take his usual seat at the breakfast table.

Mara arched a brow and gave him a peculiar look. “A ghost?”

“Yeah! He was a Life Day ghost! He tried to curse me but it wouldn’t work. We played the Gamer together! It was astral!” Ben grabbed a box of cereal and poured it into his already waiting bowl, which had small pictures of roaring Wookies all around it. “He promised to come back tomorrow night! He could be my very first best friend!” He poured milk over his breakfast, oblivious to his parents’ amused yet concerned glances.

“Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming sweetheart?”

“Uh-uh.” Ben shook his head. “Because he told me everything I wanted to know. Including the gifts you’re getting me!” He smiled brightly.

“You peeked?” Luke asked with raised brows.

“No! I swear! Tiny Tim told me!”

“Tiny Tim?” Mara echoed, placing her data pad on the table.

Ben nodded vigorously while stuffing a spoon full of cereal into his mouth. “And thanks for getting me a game for the Gamer1300!” He exclaimed before taking a drink from his juice and jumping up off his chair. “I need to get dressed. Master Tionne will be so mad if I’m late!”

He gave his parents a quick kiss on the cheek and ran back into his room, closing the door behind him.

Mara frowned at Luke and cleared her throat. “Where’s our son?”

Luke smiled. “Seems he had a lively dream.”

“I’ll say.”

“And he peeked.”

Mara shrugged, taking another sip from her caf and directing her attention back to her data pad.

Upside Down

Title: Upside Down
Author: Ceillean -- the Kyp-crazed crazy woman
Genre: Humor
Characters: Wes Janson, Corran Horn, Garik Loran, Kell Tainer
Notes: Second Annual Winter Holiday Fic-Gift Exchange Fic-gift for Miraluka Jedi. Merry Christmas! I really do hope you like this. It was hard to write -- it's been years since last I read a Rogue Squadron book so I mixed them up with the Wraiths. Enjoy!

The fic-gift you are writing is for: MiralukaJedi

They requested:
1.Wes Janson trying to set up a really elaborate prank
2. Light-hearted fun
3. Who it is played on though, I leave up to whoever gets this in the end

I don't want: Drama (it wouldn't work with this one I think)

Characters: Janson (obviously), a member of Rogue Squadron or two

---

“How much longer?” Kell Tainer asked while making a face. His voice was laced with ultimate whininess, like a kid wanting a lollypop and being denied one.

Wes rolled his eyes. “Stop being a baby!”

“Well, if you’d at least give me something to blow up!”

It grew quiet for a moment and the way Wes creased his forehead and pursed his lips, Kell could see that he was actually contemplating his suggestion. A small grin spread over Kell’s face and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “I get to blow something up!”

“Well, not exactly.” Wes jumped from the ladder, eyeing his greatest work to date. “When’s Corran due back anyway?” He asked, smiling slightly as he shifted his attention to Kell.

Kell stood leaning against the wall, looking bored and yet he managed to pull off the stance of a man ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. In this case planting a bomb in Corran Horn’s quarters. Although it was hard to imagine Corran finding it amusing if a part of his quarters were to blow up into a few hundred itty-bitty pieces. The look on the man’s face would be worth it, though.

“Depends on how long Face needs to get him as drunk as we need him. Could be a few more hours.”

Wes nodded once then rubbed his hands together with a bright, evil smile on his face. This was the sort of smile Kell knew meant trouble, the sort of smile where you backed away from Wes Janson while holding up your hands – palms up – pleading your innocence. “Did you bring it?” He asked in a dark, sinister voice. Only thing missing was the matching laugh – the one where the bad guy would throw his head back and exaggerate like a crazy man over and over again.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha – Ha ha ha ha ha ha…

At least in Kell’s mind Wes could pull it off.

“Yeah. It’s lying in the back waiting to be mauled, as usual.”

“Well then plant a confetti bomb in his stomach.”

Kell wrinkled his nose. “That’s not even remotely the same!”

“It’s all you’re gonna get! Now help me finish this up before Corran gets here.”

Grumbling something incoherent under his breath, Kell pushed away from the wall. Wes scrambled back up the ladder, grabbing a hydrospanner from his tool belt and reaching up to tighten another bolt that would hold the sofa in its designated place.

This place being the ceiling.

An old, stained caf table, the bookshelf (the little reading material Corran owned was glued onto the wood with reversible adhesive), two lamps, Corran’s small one-man bed (the poor sod) and now the sofa found their new homes to be quite fascinating. Kell had pulled out the ugly grey carpet, rolled it up and carried it into the small makeshift kitchen while Wes had laid out a large piece of Inolia, to make it look like the ceiling. A small grey lamp, which would usually give off an ugly dingy yellow glow, was attached to the middle of the floor.

Corran would love it!

Wes had already planted a few holocams all around the room so he wouldn’t miss a single second of his friends’ reaction.

This would so be worth it.






“You need to stand in order to walk.”

Corran ripped his eyes open and smiled – at least the lift of his lips was supposed to look like a smile, as far as Garik Loran was concerned. And even though Corran was short compared to him, he had to weigh at least a ton! His feet barely touched the ground as Garik held him up by his shoulders, pulling him along the corridor towards his quarters.

“You know…” Corran hiccupped while trying to stand up straight. If Garik’s sight had been impaired by an angle of about forty-five degrees, it might have seemed like Corran was actually standing. “I watched a movie the other night.”

“Did you now?” Garik asked, dragging Corran along the corridor. Overall it would have been easier to hoist the man over his shoulder but he would leave alone what little dignity still remained.

“Mhm.” When Corran started to giggle like a young girl, Garik knew Corran was far beyond drunk. This was completely, utterly and devastatingly wasted. “You, my friend, were one of those guys.”

Garik blew out a breath and counted the last few steps until he’d finally reached the entrance to Corran’s small quarters. “I was, huh?”

“Yep.” He smacked his lips. “You were so funny.” Corran threw his head back and laughed while Garik shook his head and wondered if he was like this when he was drunk. Force, he hoped not!

Just as he was about to touch his fingers to the controls of the door, Corran’s knees gave away and he slumped to the ground like a wet sack of…well, Corran. Garik couldn’t help but laugh at the scene that met his eye. Here lay one of Rogue Squadron’s best and fiercest pilots, passed out and drooling all over the floor.

Garik dug through his overalls and extracted a tiny holocam, one he’d used countless times while spying on people he wasn’t supposed to be spying on. It was almost ridiculous how much information he’d gathered on certain individuals – including his colleagues – to blackmail them. Who knew, maybe the pictures would come in handy some day. The thought made him grin like an idiot.

He snapped a few shots of the drooling wet sack of Corran, stuck the holocam back into his inner pockets and palmed the lock of the door. It hissed aside, revealing a brightly lit upside-down room. Garik laughed as he dragged Corran inside by the hem of his collar.

“You’ve overdone yourself this time.” Garik commented, dropping Corran as he surveyed Wes’s fantastic work of art. An upside down room – who would have guessed.

“How long will he be passed out?” Wes asked, coming forward with his hands stuck into the pockets of his pants. He seemed so nice and innocent the way he stood there, as if he were the nicest guy in the entire galaxy.

Yeah, right.

“Definitely a few hours. Where do you want him?” This time Garik did hoist Corran onto his shoulder.

“Right underneath the bed, of course.” He inclined his head towards the nearest corner. “We can watch him from next door. The holocams are all on and running, including four separate motion detectors to let us know when he’s finally awake. Kell’s already at his station keeping watch. ”

“Sounds like a mission to me.”

“Yeah, well.” Wes rubbed his hands together. “Look up.”

Garik drew his brow into a suspicious frown. Still, he tilted his head upward and couldn’t help but chuckle. “What happened to his face?”
Wes scratched at his head. “He had an unfortunate accident with Kell. He’s a menace by the way.”

Garik snapped his head around. “Look who’s talking.”

They laid Corran onto the floor and draped a blanket over him. Slowly and grinning wickedly, they left him in his alcohol induced slumber, eagerly awaiting the time Corran woke up. And they would tape everything – oh the joy!




Corran hoped he was only dreaming. One part of his brain was trying to wake him while the other was still sluggish, dealing with the fact that he’d had way too much to drink. Strangely, he remembered being with Garik and normally Garik was the one to pass out… Had he been awake, he would have realized that there was something out of the ordinary and he would have gotten suspicious.

Instead, he blinked away the remnants of the hazy dream (being gobbled up by a zoo animal) and turned onto his back. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet even though he wondered why in the world his bed was suddenly so hard. He tapped his fingers on the mattress and then realized it wasn’t a mattress at all.

Slowly, slow motion slowly, he opened just one eye. Minutes passed by and he didn’t move a muscle. He had to think this through and it was hard. So Corran was lying on the floor while his bed was up there? No, wait… that wasn’t right, was it? It didn’t make sense.

Grunting, he turned back onto his side and closed his eyes. Yeah, he’d had too much to drink and now he was hallucinating. He’d kill Garik for it later, once he was sober. Wouldn’t take more than a day or two, he supposed. And so Corran slept on, oblivious to the fact that Wes, Garik and Kell were watching him and laughing their asses off.



Five hours later Corran’s brain was at least half way functional. Or so he thought until he sat up and came face-to-face with a mauled Ewok. Its face was slashed in various places, showing white foam sliding down its dark brown fur. Corran’s eyes widened and he jumped back with a loud screech that could have shattered the windows.

The Ewok’s eyes blazed with anger as it stared at him, its face contorted into a mask of – wait a minute…

Corran inched closer and reached out with a finger. He pushed at the Ewok hanging from the ceiling and watched as it swung back and forth, back and forth. “Yub, yub.” It said with a very mechanical voice and although Corran’s brain worked slowly, still even he could figure this one out. “Kettch.” He said to no one in particular.

But then came the part of the “Why” and “What the kriff?”. He tilted his head upward and his jaw dropped. He had to be hallucinating! Why was he laying on the ceiling? How was he laying on the ceiling? Why was his stuff up there?

What the hell had Garik put into his drink?

Knowing it would make no sense to think about it any further, he decided to lie back down. But as he did so, he noticed the ceiling lamp not too far away from him…

He wasn’t hallucinating. This was real.

It took him a very long moment to piece everything together – Kettch, furniture on the ceiling, lamps on the floor… wow… Wes had done a perfect job this time!

Corran sat up and pursed his lips. From a distance, he heard wicked, evil sounding laughter. So they were watching him, were they?

Already his mind went into overdrive -- oh sweet payback.

Before he was able to scramble up though, Kettch made the most peculiar sound. A slight pop and then a hiss – and then the Ewok’s insides spread all over Corran. Some kind of sweet smelling red goo stuck to his hair and skin, running into his mouth, underneath his shirt and down his arms.

Oh yeah.

They were so gonna pay.

The One With The Chicken Suit and The Heels

So another year is almost over. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. And my Mom's in the hospital. Wonderful, isn't it?

I can't pack up Lilly's gift because I have no more tape. So I have to do that tomorrow morning, as well.
And still go buy some food for the holidays. I have to cook! Ugh.
Christmas is one of those holidays when I wish I won the lottery and I could just take off until January. Somewhere far away where it's moderately warm.

I'm too tired to write anything decent tonight so I thought I'd post the last sillyness I wrote for the boards the other day:

---------

Agamar, Calna Muun



The view from the office balcony was spectacular. Contrary to prejudiced opinions across the galaxy, the Agamarians had turned out to be a very hospitable and friendly people, welcoming their Jedi friends warmly.

Jedi Master Kyp Durron leaned against the balustrade with his arms folded in front of his chest. The warm sea wind tickled his skin and he breathed in deeply, reminded of his own home Deyer. Calna Muun, the capitol of Agamar, was located on the coast and from where Kyp stood, he could watch tourists as well as locals gather around the harbor to catch one of the submersibles that would take them to the floor of the Bil Da’Gari Ocean.

One of the Senators had suggested they do this as well and no doubt, it would have been an interesting venture, but Kyp was glad the mission was over and he was more than ready to head back home.

“Ready to go?”

He turned around halfway and nodded towards Jag Fel. The younger man stood with a straight back, his military training evident in his stance. He wore a simple flight suit without insignia, much like Kyp. The only thing differing was the fact that Kyp’s lightsaber dangled from his hip.

“Yeah.”

“We might have a little problem though.”

Kyp heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He tried remembering the last time a simple mission ended as easy as it had begun. Had there even ever been one?

“Please define a little problem.”

Jag shrugged. “The way to the space port is blocked. The main street is crowded with a mob of people. Carnival festivities.”

“That’s no good.”

“No.”

“When do the celebrations end?”

“Four days.”

“Damn.”

The mission had been a secret one. Settling a simple dispute with a noble man and two Senators from neighboring worlds, the Agamarian Council had asked the Jedi for assistance. No one was to know of the Jedi’s involvement, so walking about the crowd dressed as they were, was not an option.

“I mean, we could blend in.” Jag offered with the slightest lift of his lips, a roguish grin that made females gasp and swoon all over the galaxy. “All of them are wearing costumes. We dress up and head to the spaceport as one of them. Simple.”

Kyp chuckled. “I’ve learned that simple does not exist.”

“What’s not simple about this? There’s a shop in the market quarter. We go there, borrow costumes, send them back once we get home and no one will be the wiser that we were here.”

“Besides the shop owner?”

Jag scratched at his head, giving Kyp a sheepish look. “I suppose you should take care of that then.”

“Aw, great. I’ve been degraded to erasing people’s memories.”

“Well, according to Jaina, it’s what you do best.” Jag’s voice was laced with amusement.

Kyp pursed his lips but held back a retort. He was tired and moody as it was and he wanted to go home. Jaina had a big mouth, he already knew this, so he’d have a talk with her once he felt up to it.

“Don’t listen to everything she says.”

“Sir, yes Sir!” Jag clicked his heels together and gave Kyp a mock salute.

“Stop that, you dope.” He sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Let’s go find that shop.”



“Will she be alright?” Jag asked, while waving his hand in front of the shop owner’s face. Her eyes seemed completely empty, her face blank as she stared into nothingness.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll release her once we leave.”

“What about surveillance cameras?”

“Already taken care of.”

Jag wrinkled his nose as he stepped away from the front counter and followed Kyp into the back where a dozen or more empty racks stood filed in even rows. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Kyp gave him a droll stare. “Of course I know what I’m doing. I am the Jedi Master here, after all.”

Jag snorted and shook his head at the other man’s arrogant tone of voice. “And I will shoot this Jedi Master someday, you just wait and see.”

“I dare you to do so. You’d never catch me.”

“You are very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Jag scanned the chamber with his eyes, only now noticing the emptiness. He supposed the racks would have usually been hanging full with clothes and accessories but due to the festivities going on outside, the store was literally empty.

“Now what?” He mumbled under his breath, walking down a short flight of stairs into yet another empty chamber.

“Now we have to improvise.” He heard Kyp’s voice from the left. Jag turned around just in time to catch a large bag of… fluff?

“What’s this?”

“The last of the costumes left. Here, hold this.” Kyp thrust another zipped up garment bag into his arms.

Annoyed with the older man, Jag opened his arms and let everything fall to the floor. “I’m not your servant, Durron.”

Kyp laughed. “Could have fooled me.”

Jag cleared his throat. “Yes. I will shoot you. When you least expect it.”

They crouched down beside the bags and zipped them open. Jag wrinkled his nose while Kyp scratched at his chin.

“I’m not wearing this.” They said in unison, shaking their heads.

Kyp was the first to laugh.

“Can’t you just hide us in the Force?” Jag asked, poking the strange orange furry thing in the bag with his finger.

“It would take too long to get to the space port. Hiding me is exerting enough.”

“And you call yourself a great Jedi Master?” Jag raised his brows, smirking.

“Shut up and put this on.” He shoved the furry thing towards Jag while he dug through the other garment bag and grimaced as if he’d hurt himself. When he pulled out a long, white cloak with a matching gown, Jag couldn’t help himself. His laughter bubbled out and he found himself sitting on the cold floor, holding his stomach.

“I swear to the Force, if you ever breathe a word of this, you’re a dead man.” Kyp said in a dangerously low tone. Jag wasn’t listening – he was too busy laughing.

When Kyp pulled out a pair of matching white heels, Jag peeled over with a red face. Several minutes passed by while Jag’s stomach convulsed from laughing too hard and Kyp glowered at him. “I can kick your ass in heels, Jag. Don’t think that I won’t.”

“You could style your hair to match the outfit. It’s definitely long enough.” Jag said in between gasps and threw his hands over his head as Kyp tossed one of the shoes in his direction.

“Put this on and let’s get going.” Kyp pushed the fluffy-whatever-it was towards Jag, while getting to his feet and slipping out of his robes. Jag sat up, ogling the orange fluff in front of him. He grabbed it out of the bag and frowned. The middle piece was round and soft, whereas the legs attached to it were rather skinny – hardly enough space to fit inside. When he grabbed the second part of the costume, he started to laugh again.

“So you have to dress up like a woman and I’ll be walking around in a Chicken suit?”

“Seems so.” Kyp finished up with his rather petite gown and slung the matching cloak around his shoulders. A thin white shall completed the outfit. He let his hair down and took a deep breath – and another one, and another one – before he slipped his feet into the heels. And they actually fit.

Jag whistled. “Master Durron. You look positively sexy.”

Jag ducked as Kyp flung one of his boots towards him by using the Force. “Get dressed so we can leave.”



They eventually made it to the ship and even in one piece. Both had had laughing fits while mingling in with the crowd. Kyp had lost count how often Jag had tripped over his huge, flattened chicken feet. And every time Jag looked at Kyp in his pretty white gown, he couldn’t help but giggle like a little girl.

They definitely made an interesting pair.

“And I was serious. You breathe a word to anyone about this and I will skin you alive.” Kyp said as he kicked off the heels and began to slip out of the costume. Jag twisted off the head of the Chicken suit and grinned. “My lips are sealed.”

Kyp narrowed his eyes. “I’m not kidding.”

“I won’t tell!”

“Fel…I swear, if I hear a word of this from Jaina…”

Jag fell back against the wall and laughed with all he was worth, holding his stomach. “I hadn’t even thought about that!” He grinned. “I have something to blackmail you with!”

Kyp groaned and rubbed at his forehead. He grabbed his own clothes and headed to the back of the ship to get dressed.

None of them said a single word about their costumes on their way home.