I Know Something About Pain You Don't

Tahiri had certainly slept in more uncomfortable places before, although usually she tended to remember how she'd gotten there. Besides, the bits of straw poking her in random places not dirty kthx and the stray horseshoe that had probably already left a U-shaped impression in her shoulder were counterbalanced by the nice, warm, comfortable person that she was curled up against.

The headache that was setting in, on the other hand, wasn't so much fun.

"Ow," she mumbled, blinking as she opened her eyes. "Huh. I don't remember getting here."

Once she figured out where exactly 'here' was relative to the campfire last night, she'd be either impressed or more confused. Hard to tell just yet.

[OOC: For the other Jedi what blundered alla way down here with her last night!]

Tahiri was half expecting it, really, when she came back to her room and found messages from home waiting for her. There wasn't much in the way of news: Jacen was still missing, and she still wasn't sure how to feel about that, and the map of New Republic-held worlds kept shrinking. It was the couple of strategic queries that made her grit her teeth, and keeping in mind Master Skywalker's advice she pored over her datapad for a while until she'd come up with a polite (she hoped) but firmly worded reply that amounted to "I'm sorry, but you're asking too much."

Message transmitted, she set the datapad down on her nightstand and stared at it for a while, almost daring it to beep with a response.

So far it hadn't.

She wasn't complaining.

[OOC: Open door, open post, offer not valid in select -- oh wait, yes it is.]

Tahiri had been too wiped out to even take her boots off on the shuttle back to Fandom, but the first thing she did when she set foot on the causeway was fumble the laces undone and kick off the evil Sith-invented things. (She'd long since revised her theory that they were torture devices due to . . . well, perspective, but she was still sure the Sith were responsible.)

She was moving a little stiffly, the side effect of sitting on a couple of ships in hyperspace for so long, so soon after the physical punishment of Lord Nyax's pain-wave. The first thing she did when she got back to the fifth floor of the dorms was hit the shower and change into one of the new, clean flightsuits she'd gotten just before leaving Borleias. With her hair still dripping a little, she headed back to her room and stood in the doorway for a minute, just looking at her bed.

"I've missed you," she told it, not paying any mind to the one surprisingly well-worn (and quite frankly gross) boot that rolled out into the hallway as she dropped her pack on the floor and went to sprawl out. It had been quite the trip, and there were a few things she was going to have to think about, but for now she just wanted to lie down and not move for a while.

[OOC: And she's back, yay! Post is open, and door is cracked, and there's a shoe in the hall, but she's not getting up off that bed. Feel free to assume she sent you a message or seriously, just wander on in. Bits of SP here and there when I go to run errands, but otherwise around! ETA: For time purposes I'm gonna say she beat the cruise people back to the causeway by a little bit. ETA: Yeah, you're all chronologically before Ben, okay?]

The dozen red roses -- now on her nightstand which had been hurriedly cleared off so now the floor near her bed was a mess -- had been a very nice surprise, and had definitely made her smile. Now , though, Tahiri was feeling bad about not getting Ben anything. And not having any idea what to get him. She was mulling over the options and enjoying a rare (for her) day of staying in bed late. And a little bit of a headache, wherever that had come from -- okay, she wasn't enjoying that part, but it wasn't putting a damper on her good mood at all.

[OOC: Door is closed, post is open, may be subject to SP later if the headache I have gets the better of me. I blame one of my other canons, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.]

Tahiri had contemplated, briefly, checking out the cop convention, but decided against it in the end, opting for a handwavey workout in the gym instead before returning to her room. She'd promised Firekeeper that she'd try and get a hold of a copy of some of Master Tionne's ballads, after all (not that Tionne was technically a Master yet but she'd been Tahiri's teacher for years because somebody got chronology mixed up, oops) -- it might be a little difficult, since last she'd heard they'd been somewhere in the Deep Core, but she'd try anyway.

Added to the list of Things to Not Write Home About Ever: Dear Master Skywalker, I know what a dork you were as a teenager. Also, please don't ever flirt with me again. It was disturbing.

[OOC: For the roomie, but also open! May be a bit of SP as I relocate from Panera to the other coffee shop but other than that I am arouuuuuuuuuuund.]

Tahiri actually had no idea what to do in these situations; formal dances were so very much not in her realm of experience. And she felt awkward in a dress, even if it was comfortable. She stood in front of her mirror, frowning. Was this bit supposed to fall quite that way?

But she still wasn't wearing shoes. The possibility of toes getting stepped on hadn't occurred to her.

[OOC: For the date (and the roomie if he'd like), and SP is love . . .]