General Kenobi strode into the Conference Room and hesitated a moment. He was told - no, ordered - to make this meeting. Something about good PR with the rest of the Corps and the Temple.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Spotting a lone young woman setting out equipment of some sort he smiled.

Ah...another of his grrls had finagled her way onboard. They were so creative! So willing to take the initiative when it came to spending time with him. He wasn't conceited. Most of the time he didn't pay attention to how he looked. But these grrls...they knew how to keep a General intrigued. How to keep him looking forward to "surprise" visits.

He tried to make sure he wore either his black Fleet uniform or his brown boots. For some reason that got them really going and he hated to disappoint them.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and smiling lazily. "You're here to...take my picture?"

"General Kenobi?" The woman looked up, gave a quick assessing look and nodded. "I'm here from the Fleet Newsnet." She flashed her id badge and went back to setting up.

"Ah." Fingering his light beard, Obi-Wan watched her intently. "Just you?"

"Yes, Sir." She adjusted a tripod and plugged in the lights then looked up with a quick smile. "It only takes one of us to get the picture."

The smile did it. Had to be one of his grrls. Waggling his eyebrows he asked in a low voice, "Without my shirt?" He walked over and stood next to the stool set up in front of the background.

"General?" She gave him a questioning look, as if wondering if he had spent a little too much time up in space and had ship fever. "That is entirely up to you. I'm paid to take pictures. Specifically of you in this case." She began to calibrate the lights and measured the distance from the camera to the General's chin.

"You don't play this game very well." Obi-Wan pouted slightly. The pout *always* worked. Hell, it even worked on men... She was playing hard to get. He unbuttoned several of the bottons on his tunic, exposing a section of his chest, then stretched his arms up. Completing the stretch, he bent from his waist, giving her a great view of his butt.

"Game?" Looking up from the viewfinder she tried to cover up a confused frown with a polite smile. This man was definitely not big on formality.

"I'm the General." He waved a hand down his body. "I'm in my black, form-fitting uniform. My hair is shoulder-length, I have a slight growth of beard. I showered, brushed my teeth, did my katas. Isn't that the required formula for the game?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea, Sir." Finished calibrating the lights, she shot an identifying board. "Whenever you're ready to begin?"

Ah...that must be what she was waiting for.

Cunning, these grrls of his!

With a slow, pulse-raising smile, he sat and bent one leg, resting his booted foot on the rung of the chair. That should show his...assets..off nicely. "Even my FM boots don't entice you to do anything?"

"FM...?" Standing behind the camera and she smiled politely. Sir..please. Just five or six standard shots is all we need for the Fleet Newsnet story and then you can go back to..." A slightly confused frown. "..whatever it is you do."

"You're a Quichick, aren't you?" Obi-Wan crossed his arms and gave a stern, but rather pouting look. Those chicks were always trying to steal his grrls away.

It never worked.

"Excuse me?"

"Part of the Collective. They sent you because they're curious about my Ho's." He nodded, narrowing his eyes.

"Ho's?" Her eyes widened. "Uh...no, really. I'm here from the Newsnet and my assignment is to take your picture." Giving a hopeful smile she added, "Very simple really. Now, tilt your head a little to the right -"

"Qui-Gon put you up to this, didn't he? Or Ani?" Disgusted snort. "Those two. Always carrying on about the braid, or calling me 'paddlewan'. As if they don't have a ribald past that I could discuss..."

"Ribald?" Blink. "Uh..Sir? Look here at me?" A bright, quick flash of light and a click. "Good. Just five or so more, Sir."

"You really don't have any Nutella or chocolate sauce in that bag? No whipping cream?" Obi-Wan gave a last rather hopeful, wistful look towards the bag on the floor by her feet.

"Nutella?" A slight smile. "No, General Kenobi. I'm a photographer. That bag has worksheets, nameon cards, film, wipes... I might have a roll of Lifesavers in there if you'd like?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. What a disappointment! "No." Sitting up straight he looked steadily into the lens with his best "severe General" pose. The one that used to frighten Anakin when he did something wrong.

Flash. Click.

"It's the beard isn't it? You can't see the dimple in my chin and..." He trailed off at her confused look.

Flash. Click. Flash. click. Flash. Click. Flash. Click.

"Good!" Shooting an end board, she smiled at the General. "Thank you, Sir. We'll send you proofs of the story and holos before it goes out on the net."

"Thank you." Absent minded. "What's it coming to? I'm seeing them everywhere. On my bridge, on my table, on the couch, in my quarters, my fresher, my closet, my shuttle, every planet..."

"Sir?" Concerned look from the young woman. He seemed to have a problem with stalkers from the sound of it.

"Oh." A slight smile. "I...er..." Shrugged. "Never mind. Thank you." Muttering as he left the room, "Maybe my lightsabre needs to be recharged? I'm losing my touch..."

END