I wrote this one over a month ago and finally got a chance to type it up. I don't have much time these days since I'm working fifty – sixty hours a week but I try to scribble down the ideas when they come to me.

If men liked shopping, they'd call it research.

-Cynthia Nelms

Jango and Boba had been spending a weekend on Coruscant while Jango dealt with some urgent business.

It was their last day in the city and later that afternoon they would be heading back to Kamino.

Early that morning Boba had announced that he needed to go shopping. When Jango had asked why, his son had informed him that he needed a birthday present for Zam.

Jango had been a little surprised. "How do you know when her birthday is?"

Boba gave him an odd look. "I asked her when it was."

That was when Jango had realized that for as long as he and Zam had known each other they really didn't know anything about each other.

When he thought about it he realized that they were virtual strangers.

He wondered what other things Boba knew about Zam and found himself more than a little curious.

There were plenty of questions that had crossed his mind over the years but he'd never spoken them out loud.

A bounty hunter is free of attachments.

That rule had gone out the window as soon as he had gotten Boba. He didn't know why he hadn't realized it sooner. You got attached to people simply by having them in your life. Not asking questions hadn't stopped that from happening.

He wondered what Zam did with her time when she wasn't with him and Boba or bounty hunting. Did she have other friends? Where did she live? He knew she like to read but beyond that not much else.

He thought about all of this as he and Boba traveled to one store after another in search of just the right present for Zam; as Boba examined and then rejected one potential gift after another.

Finally, Boba spotted a shop that sold holobooks and books that had to be read the old fashioned way.

Jango would have been perfectly content to stay outside and wait but his son was insistent.

"You have to go in, Dad." Boba said as he literally pushed his father toward the door.

Jango wrinkled his nose as they walked through the door. He was not a reader. Reading was a waste of time in his opinion, though Boba loved it. It was a habit he had picked up from Zam. She brought the kid books all the time. The shelf in his room was overflowing with books of every kind and instead of deciding that maybe it was time to call it quits, Zam had just told Jango to get Boba a bigger shelf.

The shop smelled like paper, leather, dust, and well, books.

Jango felt a headache coming on. He couldn't believe Zam actually enjoyed places like this. He preferred being in the middle of the action himself, instead of just reading about it.

"Can I help you find anything?" The sales girl asked, looking Jango up and down quite obviously.

Before he could tell the girl to mind her own business, Boba answered.

"We're just looking, thanks."

"Anything in particular?" She pressed.

The boy barely spared her a glance. "I'll know it when I find it." He said dismissively as he disappeared into the rows of shelves, his father close behind.

That had been thirty minutes ago and Jango's headache had worsened out of what he was sure was sheer boredom.

Or it might have had something to do with the fact that Boba kept finding the absolute mustiest books and shoving them under Jango's nose for a sniff.

Here, smell this one, Dad. Isn't it great?

Smelling books was another habit that Boba had picked up from a certain changeling bounty hunter when he was little.

Jango blamed any strange habit of his son's on Zam.

It could also have been that fact that every time Jango turned around the shop girl was lurking only a few feet away pretending to dust or straighten a shelf.

She was stalking him, something that shouldn't have been possible in a store as small as the one they were in.

It was starting to get on Jango's nerves.

The girl had just managed to sneak up on and "accidently" bump into him for the third time in forty-five minutes when Boba tugged on his sleeve putting a stop to any thoughts of reaching for the blaster he always carried with him.

"Ready, Dad." He said as he held up the long searched for birthday present. It was a very thick, very heavy looking book bound in leather, the title stamped in gold lettering across the front.

"Are you sure about that one?"

"Yeah, she'll like it." Boba said confidently. "Plus the cover is her favorite color."

At this comment Jango couldn't help feeling a little triumphant. At least he'd known what her favorite color was, though it wasn't that hard to figure out. Her leather suit was purple as were most of the regular clothes she wore.

At the register the sales girl was batting her lashes furiously as Jango and Boba approached. Boba wondered if there was something wrong with her or if she just had some thing stuck in her eye.

Boba passed the book over the counter to the girl and she rang it up.

"That will be forty-nine ninety-five." She chirped.

Jango nearly choked on his own spit. Turning he glared at Boba.

"Did you know it was that much?"

Boba gave his father a winning smile.

"Well, not really," He stalled. "But it is an entire series in one book."

Jango sighed again, fifty for a book. He couldn't believe he was actually spending that much for something he didn't even like; though it wasn't as if he didn't have the money.

Reluctantly he dug into his pants pocket, pulled out a credit chip, and handed it to the girl. She swiped it and passed it back to him making sure that her fingers brushed his.

Jango had had just about all he could take and jerked his hand away a little faster than was necessary.

Boba looked at her with raised eyebrows. Was this girl for real?

She dropped the book into a bag and held it out to Jango.

"Here you go, handsome." She winked as he plucked the book from her hand.

Boba faked a heave in disgust but she didn't seem to notice.

"Come on, Dad." He said as an idea suddenly came to him. "We have to pick up mom and give her the birthday present we got for her."

Jango realized what his son was up to and played along.

"You're right, son. We wouldn't want to be late for that." He said as he ruffled Boba's hair.

The girl gave a huff and flounced off in to the back room as father and son strolled out the door.

Once they were on the street Boba burst out laughing.

"Did you see her face when I said that?"

Jango chuckled along with his son.

"That was pretty funny." He said. "Good thinking, son."

Boba grinned.

"Thanks, Dad."

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I don't know about anyone else, but I love the smell of musty old books. It reminds me of my childhood.