Private Paid in Full

[Jacob Solay]

TAG: Meri Vale

Night had settled fully over Theed by the time Jacob and Meri emerged from the mountain transit lifts into the capital’s upper districts. The city glowed beneath the Naboo evening with the soft gold of street lanterns and the pale reflection of moonlight against polished stone, turning the curved plazas and elevated walkways into something almost unreal after hours spent buried beneath the archive stacks.

The air outside carried the cool freshness of the river cutting through the city below, along with the distant sound of water moving beneath bridges and terrace gardens. Musicians played somewhere farther down the avenue near one of the open plazas, their music blending softly with passing conversation and the steady life of the capital at night.

Jacob slowed briefly beside the railing overlooking one of Theed’s lower courtyards while small groups of people moved around them through the evening crowds. Most wore formal city attire or the layered fashions common among Naboo’s upper districts, and after the dust and silence of the archives, the warmth and movement of the city almost felt jarring.

“You know,” he said as they continued along the lantern lit walkway, “I probably should’ve realized earlier that making the person paying choose dinner could come to bite me in the butt.”

The grin tugging at the corner of his mouth suggested he had realized that long before now.

Unlike earlier in the archive, he had actually taken the time to change before meeting her outside the transit station. The heavier training clothes and worn jacket from the library had been traded for darker formal wear better suited to Theed’s evening districts. A charcoal tunic fitted close through the shoulders beneath a long dark coat trimmed subtly at the collar and cuffs, simple enough not to look ceremonial but clean enough that it was obvious he had made an effort. The outfit still carried the practical simplicity common to Jedi influenced fashion, though softened slightly by Naboo tailoring that made it look more refined than military.

The restaurant Meri eventually chose sat tucked along one of Theed’s quieter terrace levels overlooking the river. Warm light spilled through tall arched windows framed by climbing ivy and pale stonework, while the soft sound of conversation drifted out each time the doors opened for arriving guests. It was neither extravagant nor overly formal, the kind of place designed to feel comfortable rather than impressive.

Which, Jacob suspected, was exactly why she had chosen it.

Inside, the atmosphere carried the low warmth of polished wood, hanging lanterns, and muted music played somewhere near the back dining room. Naboo cuisine occupied most of the menu, though the restaurant clearly catered enough to travelers and off world visitors that the offerings remained broad and safe rather than aggressively traditional.

Jacob glanced over the menu once they were seated near one of the balcony windows overlooking the illuminated canals below.

“Okay, this actually looks good.”

The grin returned briefly as he glanced back at her over the menu.

“I was a little worried you were going to pick somewhere weird and fancy.”

The teasing sat easily between them now, far removed from the guarded caution that had defined their first conversation at the library table. Somewhere between the archives, the game, and the walk through Theed afterward, the evening had settled into something unexpectedly comfortable.

For a moment Jacob lowered the menu slightly, studying her across the small table while the city lights reflected softly through the window behind her.

“So,” he asked, quieter now than the teasing before it, “do you still think it was luck?”

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri had been quieter during the walk through Theed than she had been in the archive, though not withdrawn. If anything, she seemed caught somewhere between observation and distraction, her attention drifting repeatedly across the city as she adjusted to the transition from the buried silence of the mountain to the warmth and movement of Naboo's evening streets.

Theed at night felt almost impossibly alive. Lanterns reflected softly across polished stone while music drifted through the upper districts, blending with the distant sound of water flowing beneath bridges and terrace gardens. Meri's gaze moved often toward the city, quietly cataloging details out of habit, though every so often she would glance toward Jacob with the faint expression of someone still slightly surprised the evening had extended this far beyond the library.

When he commented on the danger of letting the person paying choose the restaurant, the corner of her mouth lifted.

"You say that as though I deliberately selected somewhere intimidating," she observed calmly. "Which would have been statistically unnecessary considering I already won."

The dry humor came naturally now, softened by the fact she no longer felt the need to guard it so carefully. Truthfully, she had chosen this place precisely because it didn't feel overwhelming. It was elegant without being performative, and warm in a way that reminded her faintly of the calmer corners of the archive once the initial awkwardness between them had faded.

Now, seated across from him beneath the soft lantern light, Meri looked subtly different from the girl who had first met him at the library table. The careful reserve remained, but it no longer existed as a wall between herself and the world. Instead, it was part of her rhythm, something quieter and less defensive now that she had stopped expecting every conversation to be an argument she needed to intellectually survive.

Her attention lingered briefly on him as he spoke, and the change in his clothing did not escape her notice. Unfortunately. The realization produced a faint warmth in her composure before she carefully redirected her attention back to the menu.

"You were the one who suggested dinner," she reminded him softly, her amusement clear. "If I had selected somewhere aggressively formal, it would simply have reflected poor experimental planning on your part."

When he finally asked whether she still thought it had been luck, however, Meri grew quieter. Outside, the lights of Theed shimmered across the canals while distant music drifted upward through the evening air. For a few moments, she simply looked at him, considering the question with more gravity than the teasing tone of the night might have warranted. Eventually, she lowered the menu completely.

"No," she admitted, the answer coming without hesitation.

Her fingers rested lightly against the edge of the table as she searched for words precise enough to explain a sensation she still barely understood. "I thought at first that I was subconsciously gathering information: movement patterns, sound, or subtle environmental changes. I assumed there had to be a rational framework underneath the experience that I simply had not identified yet."

Her gray eyes lifted back toward his, the memory lingering vividly in her mind. "But when you stopped moving, I still knew exactly where you were."

The admission carried a quiet sense of wonder she no longer seemed interested in hiding. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the city lights beyond the balcony as she struggled to find the right language. "I do not know exactly what I experienced in the archive, but it did not feel imaginary. It felt...familiar, in a way that makes very little sense to me."

That uncertainty no longer sounded frightening; if anything, it sounded strangely hopeful. Then, as the logic of the situation caught up with her, a trace of her signature dry humor returned to her expression.

"Which is quite unfortunate for you," she informed him with mock seriousness, "because it means your entire wager was built on a statistically compromised premise from the very beginning. You never truly stood a chance of winning."

Jacob Solay