Jaal was pretty sure this was his…fourth, maybe fifth day in a row coming to the small, quaint bakery just on the outskirts of town. He couldn’t quite be certain, but he had a feeling he was going against some regulation
somewhere just by being here. Considering he’d spent all the money he’d had (He’d won it all playing a mean game of cards with his brothers; clones didn’t have much, but when they bet, they bet what they had), Jaal was fairly sure he was completely and utterly broke (Although that was nothing new). He silently despaired of this; not because he wouldn’t be able to buy his daily coffee and four doughnuts, but because he’d have no reason or excuse to come back here again.
From where Jaal sat in his unobtrusive corner booth, he looked up to observe the goings on of the patrons and the owner and proprietor of the bakery. Jaal didn’t come here because of the kind and friendly atmosphere. He didn’t come here because the food was delicious and the coffee was the best he’d ever had. He didn’t come here because he enjoyed the quiet and the time to think. No. He came here…because of
her. Jaal had spent all his hard won money, and all his leave (Being a commander, he never had a reprieve from the army, so a week of leave was nearly unheard of for someone like him) at the shop, hoping to catch a kind word, a glimpse, or even a brush of the hand from the woman behind the counter. Anything for the slight chance she’d turn those brown eyes on him and smile his way.
Jaal blushed slightly, wishing now for the snug, familiar confines of his armor and helmet. Maybe then he’d have the courage to approach her. For Manda’s sake, he didn’t even know her name. She’d been unfailingly kind to him each day he’d come to her shop, and Jaal would do anything to make her keep coming back to him, even if it meant ordering one more doughnut or another cup of coffee. Just for a smile. Jaal looked down at the half empty cup in his hand, wondering how many times he could get away with asking her to refill his cup in a single day. It would be his last time here, the last day he spent at her bakery. Tomorrow, he was being shipped to Felucia to take over command of the 501st Infantry division, and to begin the assault and re-colonization of Felucia, Ryloth, Christosis, and a few other planets the Republic wanted to re-conquer. It was his job to lead his troops into battle, and Jaal had a feeling that he wouldn’t be coming back from this campaign.
He wandered into town about five days ago, and stumbled on her shop, and inadvertently, her. She was beautiful, she was radiant, and she’d smiled at him when he’d walked into her bakery. Jaal had fallen head over heels the moment her eyes met his, and he’d fallen pretty darn hard. Jaal glanced up from his coffee cup to sneak another peek at the woman behind the counter, busy bustling back and forth as she served other patrons and whirled about the kitchen with practiced ease. Jaal found himself staring, heart thudding loudly in his chest. He smiled dreamily, leaning his cheek on his hand, and not noticing how dangerously close he was coming to slipping off said hand and spilling his coffee all over his dark shirt until it happened.
With a loud curse, Jaal leapt to his feet as the scalding coffee soaked through his clothing and seeped into his skin, burning and smoking the entire way. He grabbed at the napkins on his table and dabbed at his clothing desperately, glancing around as the patrons all turned to stare at him curiously. His cheeks turned a ridiculous shade of red as he quickly sat back in his chair to avoid being stared at, and wiped at his clothing. He groaned under his breath; his only set of clothes was now
ruined. He chanced a peek up at the woman behind the counter, face flushing an even deeper shade of crimson than before as he checked to see if she’d spotted his moment of stupidity. He quickly ducked his head, turning away shyly, afraid to know what she had seen. Maybe if he just sunk down in his chair, like
so, he could disappear completely.