“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind.” It’s not a serious answer. Zam’s not really thinking about the practicality of the situation so much as her own dislike of it.

“Combine a cultist and a cop, and you’ve got yourself a Jedi,” Zam explains, lifting her head with a frown when White Long Hair hops off her stomach to approach Jasper instead. “They carry these blades that can cut through almost anything -- armor, flesh, bone -- like it’s nothing but empty air.”

She lies back again. “Though I’ll admit, the one who did the slicing was actually pretty tolerable. For a Jedi, anyway.”