“It was a nice ceremony, wasn’t it?”
            Nylan glanced up from his console in the dim of base operations, still dressed in his Jedi robes, a half-eaten piece of wedding cake at his elbow.  He’d clearly dismissed the officer of the watch when he’d arrived-not long before, it seemed, because the mug of caf sitting with the cake was still steaming.
            The Jedi Master grunted in response to his cousin and longtime friend.  “It was.  Maybe a bit unorthodox, but…”

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