"What are you doing?"
Obi-Wan looked up from his spot on the floor to see Garen Muln staring at him through the doorway, eyes wide. Obi-Wan felt a flush creep over his face. "Erm... polishing my lighsaber."
"I can see that." Garen leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. "But why here? Alone?"
Obi-Wan blinked. "Well, it's hardly a group activity, now is it?"
"It can be, you know." Garen's face twisted in that way that meant he found something very funny. "Much more fun that way."
"More fun? You're mad."
"Haven't you ever got together with a group of padawans and compared techniques?"
Obi-Wan nearly laughed. "Techniques? There's more than one way to do it?"
Garen grinned. "Of course there is. I'll show you." He stepped forward, letting the door close behind him. He crouched behind Obi-Wan and reached around him to take the polishing cloth. Obi-Wan kept a firm grip on the hilt, while Garen slid the cloth back and forth, up and down, twisting a little here and there...
Obi-Wan swallowed. "All right, that's... that's enough."
He felt Garen's breath brush against his ear. "Is it?"
Obi-Wan felt heat rise in his face. "Yes," he replied. His voice squeaked a bit, to his horror.
"All right," Garen replied, standing.
The heat behind Obi-Wan dissipated, but the heat in other places remained. Obi-Wan started to stand, but realized it was probably not a good idea at the moment. He looked up to see Garen palming the door open.
"Thanks," he managed. Though he wasn't quite sure what he was thanking Garen for.
Garen turned back and smiled. "If you ever need help polishing your other lightsaber, just ask."
Obi-Wan was certain his face was an unbecoming shade of red by the time the door slid shut.