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could not make a wookiee intimidating

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Ahsoka kicks her feet up on the table, leaning back in her chair just far enough that it tips back onto its back legs. “I pick the lock,” she says, confident, before reaching over to snatch up a handful of popcorn from the bowl at the center of the table.

Padmé looks up from her sheets behind the DM's screen and says, “Okay, roll for it.”

Ahsoka rolls, then nearly falls off her chair when she pumps her fist into the air and shouts, “Hell yeah! Natural twenty!

“Aw, come on,” says Anakin, glaring at the dice as if they’ve personally offended him. “You roll twenties for Ahsoka and not for me? I own you, you fuckers, the least you could do is do me a favor every once in a while.”

“The dice are not sentient, Anakin, they don’t personally hate you,” says Obi-wan, utterly resigned as he glances up at Anakin through his notes.

“I don’t know, Obi-wan, they seem to like Ahsoka the most out of all of us,” says Padmé, with a snort of laughter. And Anakin the least, she does not add, because that is obvious enough from Anakin's horrifyingly bad luck with rolls. “Okay, anyway: the lock falls apart under Ashla’s skilled hands. You push the door open to find a completely, totally empty room--the famed vault of Prince Xizor of the Black Sun, unfortunately, is nowhere to be found.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then adds, "Again."

"Motherfucker," says Anakin, at nearly the same time as Leia, across the table from him, does.

“Shoot,” says Luke, pouting. “So the info was bad after all.”

“After all that money spent on bribes,” Ahsoka grumbles, folding her arms across her chest. “We should’ve let Carrie at them.”

Leia huffs out a laugh and leans forward, propping her chin up in her hand. “I told you so,” she says. “Honestly, what’s the use of having an exiled warrior princess if you’re not going to let her intimidate somebody into talking every so often?”

“Well, that was a waste,” says Obi-wan, getting into character by dropping his natural British accent for one that sounds suspiciously like Anakin's. “Let’s get out of here and take what we’ve already got, we’ve spent enough time here as it is.”

“No, no, wait, wait,” says Anakin, frowning, dropping his accent for a British one that sounds like Obi-wan's. “Does anybody remember the last empty room? Unleashing the demon Grievous, nearly dying in the fight, finding treasure underneath a loose stone afterwards?”

“For someone allegedly lawful good,” says Padmé, raising a brow, “you’re really into this whole treasure idea.”

“Because I want to cure a persistent disease that’s been affecting my school and I need money to do that,” Anakin hastily adds. “I want it for completely selfless reasons.”

“You are terrible at playing me,” says Obi-wan. “I’m telling you that out of character, by the way.”

Luke says, “Anakin--I mean, Rako’s right. The last empty room had treasure, who’s to say there’s nothing in this one that might be of value to us? It doesn’t even have to be treasure.” He pauses and adds, "But I wouldn't say no to some, we're kinda running low on potions."

“We might even find evidence of the Black Sun’s involvement with the invasion of Alderaan,” says Leia, excitedly, eyes brightening with the prospect of gaining justice for her lost kingdom. “I walk inside--”

“No, no, wait,” says Ahsoka, urgently. “Guys, do you remember the empty room before the last one? With all the invisible traps?”

“I don’t see any traps,” says Obi-wan, lifting his chin the same way Anakin does. Anakin, beside him, tosses popcorn at him.

Exactly,” says Ahsoka.

“Oh,” says Luke, realization dawning on his face. He buries his face in his hands and says, muffled, “Crap.

Anakin huffs out a breath, reaches into the bowl of popcorn once more. “Okay, I’m gonna do some chanting and check for traps, just in case,” he says, before popping a kernel in his mouth.

“Roll for insight and successful spellcasting,” says Padmé, smiling beatifically. There’s a series of audible gulps around the table--they’ve all learned to fear that beatific smile of hers. It only means trouble for one or all of them.

Anakin snatches up the dice, ignoring the loud thud-thud of his heart, and rolls twice. “Three for insight and four for spellcasting,” he says, incredulously. “What in the fuck.”

“Your spell is not as strong as it should be, probably owing to the drain on your magical reserves the last fight took out of you and the lack of time you've had to recover,” says Padmé, “and you see nothing wrong in the room at all.”

“I push Rako in to get a better look,” says Leia.

“I help,” Ahsoka adds.

“You’re both assholes,” Anakin informs them. “Can I roll for strength so I can resist them?”

“Why would you resist them?” says Obi-wan. “You’ve just seen that nothing is wrong with the room, and may I point out that you were the one who suggested we investigate it in the first place?”

Anakin gives a low moan and buries his face in his hands. “I’m going to get shot full of arrows again, I just know it,” he mutters.

“Nah, you won’t be,” says Padmé. “Instead, as Carrie and Ashla push you inside, you trip a wire that triggers a magical net just above to dissipate, unleashing the wrath of, say, two hundred and ten scorpions on you, you poor, poor wizard.”

“Traitors, all of you,” says Anakin dispassionately, as the rest of the table breaks into fits of laughter. “Seriously. I hate you.”