As undercover missions went this one sucked. At least Asajj Ventress thought so as she was surrounded by a pack of make-up and hair stylists' intent on leaving no surface of her un-scrutinised.

She was willing to do anything, kill anyone and use whatever means necessary to get her revenge on the Jedi. For now, the Separatists were her ladder to this achievement. She would serve them to the ends of her strength. But going undercover as a model? Whoa. Slow down there! To a self-confessed tomboy, this was hell.

In an effort not to kill all the kriffing stylists as one of them poked her in the eye for the third time, Ventress thought happy thoughts.

/One dead Jedi, two dead Jedi, three dead Jedi.../

"Okay, you're finished, Gracie-Lou."

Gracie-Lou Freebush. What a name. Why her alias had to be something so ridiculous she had no idea.

Grimacing, she stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. At the black pixie-crop she had let her grow out to and the dress she was wearing. Tight to the extreme, the ebony corset bodice was threaded with lace and flowed out into a sleek skirt split up one side, sexy yet elegant. Ventress had to admit, she did look good. Now for the hardest part. She slipped on a pair of peep-toe stilettos at least eight inches high, black satin ribbon snaking up her legs in a criss-cross pattern. Securing them, she prepared herself to walk over to the waiting area, unashamedly using the Force to correct her balance. How non-Force sensitives wore these stupid shoes was beyond her.

Surveying the assembled crowd for someone who didn't look completely brainless, one man stood out. He was older than most of the models, maybe in his early thirties, the same age as Ventress herself. He was clean shaven, with auburn hair and blue/green/grey eyes. Of medium height, he appeared slender but the well-formed stomach and chest that showed through his open shirt belied this. He was utterly gorgeous, but something in his eyes spoke of a sharp intelligence behind the looks.

Approaching him in her death trap shoes, she smiled.

"Hello."

He gave her a cheeky smile,

"Have we met before?"

It was the voice that did it. Doing a double-take on his appearance, she realised it was the lack of a beard that had fooled her. Reaching out in the Force, she found his signature. Brilliantly concealed, it would've fooled her had she not spent hours plotting this particular Jedi's demise.

Kenobi!