It was the kiss that had short-circuited poor Obi Wan Kenobi. And he had a terribly bad feeling that it was all related to the damned distress signal.Īnd that something arrived quickly as a hooded figure stormed up to him, grabbed him, and kissed him. Droids were being sent this way and that, accosting individuals on the landing pad as they were about to leave, interrogating them, moving them along to go somewhere else to continue to harass them. When Obi Wan had arrived on Cato Neimoidia, there was a bit of a commotion already. He was determined to not let that happen. He could see it now: Anakin swooping in, the same smirk he was currently wearing slapped on his face, and those dreaded words just begging to be said: I told you so. “And I’ll rescue you when it goes to hell!” Anakin had smirked, and even now he was dreading that eventuality. Either way, it wasn’t something they thought they could ignore.
“It’s probably a trap,” Obi Wan had said with a sigh.
“It’s probably important,” Anakin had said seriously. Just in case.) So, knowing that all those four individuals were all equally unlikely to be on Cato Neimoidia in the middle of the Clone Wars, it was odd that the distress signal, on their private channel only four people knew about, would be coming from there. (Obi Wan had secretly given Satine access as well, though they had decided together it was unlikely she would ever use it. Back on the Miss, Anakin and he’d received a distress signal on their private channel, something they’d only given out to Shmi, Tetra, and Padme, should the occasion arise where they would need to contact them privately. The events leading up to the kiss had been annoying, irritating, and unnecessarily secretive, but he could understand them. He honestly could have done without the kiss.
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