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Mace looks up at the new presence in his theatre class. Padawan du Crion has just strolled in and is looking over everyone with a rather judgemental sneer. Then his gaze falls on Mace's terrors, and it turns into something not quite predatory.
"Nantos!" Obi-wan chirps happily as he turns and spots him. "Didn't know you weres in fearter class!"
"Thought I'd come see what the fuss was about." He says, dropping to the floor and lounging in an elegant sprawl. Obi-wan immediately sits himself in the Padawan's lap and Longshot and Trapper plop themselves onto his legs. From the brief flare of victorious satisfaction du Crion lets out into the force, this was his goal all along. If having adorable children is what brings more people to his theatre class, Mace is going to have to work out how to best show them off.
"You goin to be bein in the play?" Obi-wan asks.
"I suppose I could be." The Padawan drawls, clearly being required to attend multiple rehearsals is convenient for his plans of spending more time with Mace's children.
"Yay!" Obi-wan cheers. "I'm a howwible goose!" He sticks his neck forwards and hisses at the Padawan. Who just smirks at him.
"So I can see."
Cody has come to stand by du Crion's feet and is staring at him thoughtfully, arms folded.
"Can be der Widow Trotter. S no one playing dem yet."
Obi-wan brightens even further.
"You'll be wewwy good!" He assures "You're wewwy dwamatic!"
Du Crion's eyebrows rise slowly, and a delighted smirk stretches across his face.
"You," he accuses, "are a terrible little scamp."
Obi-wan nods happily.
"I'm a howwible goose." He agrees.
Du Crion hums, before diving forward and tickling the tiny ginger until he's squealing.
"For Gen'ika!" Wooley cries, throwing an arm dramatically in the air, and the rest of Mace's children dogpile their attacker.
"Needs bwighter fabwic." Boil says, pacing slowly around du Crion, who's been draped in several different pieces of cloth. "More colours, more pattens. Needs to be like Naboo but more."
Stitch hums, eyes narrow.
Du Crion arches an eyebrow at them.
"I believe," he says, slightly haughtily, "that the words you're looking for are 'like Naboo but better'. I have standards."
"An we'll need sum baboons." Boil adds.
Du Crion looks mildly alarmed.
Mace swallows back a laugh, and concentrates on the papier-mache lobster claws he's making. Kit had thrown a fit about scientific accuracy, and now he needs to start again.
"Why baboons?" Stitch asks, as if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to suggest.
"To be paddin." Boil explains. "Scwipt says he needs big..." He waves his hands over his chest.
"HONK HONK!" Obi-wan shouts, popping out of nowhere wrapped in white feathers and making du Crion jump, before running off cackling.
"Ohh." Stitch agrees, apparently pretending that hadn't just happened. "Yes. We'll get some baboons."
Du Crion pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs dramatically.
"Balloons." He tells them. "The word you want is balloons."
"Master Wimdu?"
Mace arches an eyebrow at Cody, who's frowning from inside his tree costume.
"Master Jim's onna mission. Taken Nantos."
Force dammit. They were due to start in three hours. And now they were down one of their principal actors. He scans over the children and Padawans filling the room.
"Boil'ika!" He calls, and Boil waddles over, looking adorably ridiculous in his lobster costume. "Padawan du Crion is off-planet. Would you be willing to step into the role of Widow Trotter?"
Boil frowns, antennae wriggling as his head shifts.
"Not knowin all the lines." He confesses.
"Are you trying to convince me that you don't have the skills to improvise where necessary?" Mace asks. He steps sideways out of the way of a gleeful Obi-wan who's waving a prop sword as he tries to outrun the Padawan playing Jack, who's giving chase through her laughter.
"Adap plan as sitation dewelops." Cody adds.
"Oh." Boil says, then nods firmly. "Yes. Can do dat."
"Thank you Boil'ika. Can you ask Stitch'ika to see what can be done about the costume?"
"Yes Master Wimdu!" And he strides off, segmented tail dragging on the floor behind him.
Mace looks over his cast. They all look very impressive in their costumes, and he's exceptionally proud of them. His gaze moves over the group until he gets to Boil, then stops. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Stitch has done an excellent job with the costume. The dress is a luridly vivid pattern, with puffy sleeves and a hooped skirt that swings ridiculously around Boils shins. It's covered in ruffles and giant bows. He's wearing sturdy boots in a matching vibrant shade, with thick florescent woolen socks overflowing the top. He has two giant balloons shoved down his top, and a frankly ridiculous wig. One of the Padawans has painted a red spot onto each of his cheeks, and filled a high arch in bright yellow and blue above each eye.
It's all exactly as specified in the script. A perfect Widow Trotter.
Except for the fact that he's wearing the whole thing over his lobster costume.
Mace sighs. Disappointed in himself. He knows his children by now. He should have seen that coming.
Mace sits back and watches the performance with proud satisfaction. The fact that Boil is playing the mother of a Padawan ten years older than him and three times the height is adding a whole extra dimension of adorably ludicrous nonsense. He's doing a remarkable job, and is currently standing, lobster claws on hips, as he scolds the Padawan for selling the bantha for a packet of legumes.
Sifo is lounging in his seat next to Mace, oozing happiness and contentment and a bright joy into the force. It's a remarkable change from the man broken and destroyed by visions of a dark future. Mace is glad for him. He knows better than most that the force isn't always kind in its warnings.
Sifo is also... recording the whole thing on his comm. Mace glances sideways at him and raises an eyebrow.
"I'm going to send it to Jaster." Sifo whispers, amused and smug and unrepentant.
Mace has absolutely no idea who Jaster is.
"The Mand'alor." Sifo explains, all mischief and humour.
Mace sighs. That's hardly going to dissuade the man from coveting Mace's children. "You have his comm?" He asks warily.
"Cod'ika does." Is the smug and unconcerned response.
Cody, who is currently standing at the back of the stage, seeming perfectly happy as a tree while Obi-wan, who isn't even in this scene, sits on the floor by his feet tying his bootlaces together and snickering.
Things remain surprisingly on track up until the custard pie fight. One of Boil's pies goes 'accidentally' sailing towards the chorus, lobster claws not being the ideal appendages for the handling of projectiles. It makes a direct line for Cody, who manages to twist and catch most of it on one of his branches. A few globs of custard splatter across his face, and he licks his lips clean, eyes narrowed in thought.
"I tink it's tastin of pineappwles."
"- grind his bones to make my bread!"
"Not be usin bones to make bwed." Peeler interrupts with a scowl, apparently completely unable to resist correcting culinary fallacies. His octopus tentacles twist into what would be a very rude gesture if they were lekku. Mace narrows his eyes, and scans his gaze until he finds Obi-wan crouched in the wings, face scrunched in concentration.
"S not be rise in." Peeler informs them, oblivious to his costume's antics. "An not tastin good. Bein all cwunchy. Lotsa minnels tho. Better to boil em in bwoff."
Mace really hopes this is theoretical knowledge.
Artery, the back half of the pantomime bantha, strides onto stage. Mace ponders the merits of sighing versus laughing.
"Are you eatin nuff wegetables?" Artery demands. "Gettin wewwy sick if only eatin little Jedis. Needs more witamins for bein healfy. Nobody wantin giant wiv scurvies. Makes your bones is hurtin den your mouf is hurtin den you're conwulsin den you're dyin. Do you wants to be hurtin and conwulsin an dyin?"
"Hav a good wecipe for soop." Peeler offers. "S got lossa wegetables for witamins and can boil der bones for minnels. S wewwy tasty."
Artery nods in agreement.
"S much better dan swamp stoo. Dats only good for pwactsin tweatin poisonins."
Mace silently agrees. Further down the row in the audience, Yoda pouts.
"To the legume stalk!"
Cody slaps a branch over his own face.
"Wewwy poor chances of succwess." He mutters with a scowl, and strides forwards. "Predictin lotsa casualtees. Needin better stwategy."
Obi-wan sidles onto the stage, to an enthusiastic audience chorusing "it's behind you", and tries to shift onto his tiptoes to peer around Cody's limbs.
"Or any stwategy at all." He adds.
"Now." Cody says, "we is going up da plant, den spitting into two gwoups. Widow Trott'ika an Daisy da banfa wiv me, Jack goes wiv der orrible goose."
Obi-wan starts bouncing on his toes, snapping his fingers against his thumbs.
"Doin a pincer mnoover!" He cries in excitement.
Boil holds up his lobster claws, and turns slowly to look at them.
"Snap snap." He murmurs quietly.
"Quick! Down the legume stalk!"
The rescue party all tumble down the stalk, along with the horrible goose, a tree, and a wild assortment of animals, an improbable proportion of whom are aquatic and not particularly equipped for scaling vegetation. But then neither is a bantha, and that, at least, was in the script.
"Make nan nobstwuction!" Cody calls, at the same time as Jack shouts "Cut the stalk!"
Boil and Waxer both immediately attack the base of the plant with their pincers, and Mace buries his head in his hands as he attempts to feed his humour to the force so he won't giggle.
Going off-script is inevitable and a tradition, but he's never seen it done with this much chaos while still being somehow cohesive and wandering vaguely in the direction of the plot. It's a masterpiece.
Next to him, Sifo is actually chortling, his comm shaking with his laughter. Hopefully, the footage will be too ruined to send to that adoption obsessed Mand'alor.