Gingerly taking a step while holding onto Dogma’s arm, Obi-Wan let out a low groan as it pulled on tender healed skin as his foggy head finally started pushing blood in the right directions. “Shitty titty… blasted naked besalisk, fucking six titted-aaaah.” He grumbled deeply and paused, ignoring both Rex and Cody giving him bemused look and Dogma’s vaguely horrified one.

Zuru was just too used to his General’s behavior to take notice of the cursing and the rather… uniqueness of it. Which was why he was just sitting cross legged on Obi-Wan’s bed, watching closely as Obi-Wan tryingly started walking around after hanging upside down.

“Next time I see Dooku, I’m shoving my lightsaber up his arse.” Obi-Wan growled before carefully pulling away from Dogma’s arm and moving on his own, breathing out heavily as it still made his head feel a bit faint.

But he felt better as he moved, healing skin stretching nicely after the bacta had healed it even if it was sore along with his head.

“Where in galaxy have you seen six tits?” Rex couldn’t finally help but ask, scratching at his blond fuzz.

“Ever seen a naked jawa?” Obi-Wan bounced back, moving between the beds with stronger and stronger steps, ignoring how the rest of the tent paused at the reply.

Dogma gained a more obviously horrified look, echoed by both Rex and Cody, Helix squinting thoughtfully at the ceiling of the tent.

“Okay, hold up, you’ve seen a naked Jawa?” Zuru blinked at him. No one saw a naked jawa, they didn’t undress in front of outsiders from what people could tell and they got really territorial and angry if you tried to pull their hoods down.

“More like stripped it, I had to find my lightsaber somehow, little weasel thought I didn’t notice he stole it.” Obi-Wan grumbled as he paused and carefully stretched. All the bed laying and coddling had left him feeling stiff but thankfully the medics were willing to let him up now.

He ignored the disturbed and shocked looks of the troopers around him as he continued lightly stretching.

People didn’t just undress jawas after all but that was what Obi-Wan had been required to do, to get his lightsaber back.

Finally finished stretching, Obi-Wan turned and gave Zuru an expectant look.

The pilot, attuned as he was to Obi-Wan’s behavior, simply shook his head and threw him a black pouch.

Grinning happily, Obi-Wan made his way over to the mirror, set the black pouch onto the closest surface and fished out a tube of hair mousse from his products.

Quietly, most of the troopers watched Obi-Wan rub the hair product between his hands and run it through his hair, working it up into the faux mohawk he normally sported. “To be fair, I couldn’t have the little bastard open the case, if it found out I had a lightsaber, I’d either have to do some fast talking to convince the mandalorians I was with that I killed a Jedi or flee, compromising my mission.” He drawled slightly.

Perking up, Cody tilted his head. “Mandalorians? You worked with some?” He asked curiously, a tad hopefully. Obi-Wan had come to learn that a lot of the vode liked to assimilate mandalorian culture into their own.

Not really a shock, their progenitor was after all one, had hired many mandalorian teachers that taught the initial troopers and those later on had taught their own brothers.

The blood of true Mandalore flowed through the clones, regardless what kind of complicated view the other mandalorians had on them.

“Spied on them,” Obi-Wan corrected easily, not letting his thoughts escape, tilting his head back and forth before reaching into the bag again for a can of spray. “Death Watch, they’re officially listed as terrorists organization, even by the Republic despite staying on Mandalore most of the time but most consider them a ‘bygone’ threat.” Obi-Wan’s lips pulled into a sneer, alerting everyone what he thought of that decision.

“So you were spying on them to…what?” Rex questioned curiously.

“Correction, I was fucking the leader for information,” Obi-Wan smirked to himself, ignoring the aghast expressions in the mirror. Pre Vizla had been an easy mark for him and chatty once in bed. “To be fair, flash a bit of stewjoni blood at a true mandalorian and they kinda lose their mind, tack in the fact that I could fight and am decently attractive, especially back at twenty five, piece of cake infiltration really.” He chuckled quietly.

Before someone could respond to that, another person spoke up, clearly horrified. “Did the council send you on honeypot missions after you left me?” A strangled voice from the front of the tent question and Obi-Wan paused, turning his head to look at Qui-Gon.

He narrowed his eyes faintly before shrugging. “We do ours for the cause, Deatch Watch leader is a man of convictions with little morals and I knew my duty. Getting him to talk was difficult. So yes.” He turned back, spraying his hair so it would hold the mohawk shape.

Was he proud of that part of his missions repertoire?

No. Had it been necessary to get Pre Vizla talking?

Yes.

Obi-Wan knew that his information had at least helped keep Death Watch from abducting more children and kept them from infiltrating offices of the New Mandalorian government.

Even if Satine refused to listen to sense.

His lip curled a bit as he thought of his old flame before firmly snuffing the thought. If she wanted to suppress everything that made a Mandalorian into a Mando or exile those that didn’t listen, then fine, on her head be the cultural genocide.

She wanted to be the Senate’s little voice, she could stay there and rot for all he cared.

But Obi-Wan had washed his hands on all that, he had given her the information she’d need and what had she done with it?

Nothing.

‘It is times like this I very much wish Jango Fett had become Mand’alor, at least this travesty of a pale imitation culture wouldn’t exist. Nor would the black markets for traditional Mandalorian items.’ He mused to himself, ignoring Qui-Gon watching him with stricken eyes in the mirror.