"Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, of the Jedi Order," He replies, with a nodding sketch of a polite bow, "At your service, Warden Hawke."

He's met at least one Warden who told him titles weren't permitted. And then there was this woman, with her trailing qualifications, and her lovely eyes and rosy dimples. There were rules, and then there were rules, Obi-Wan suspected, and likely the only ones truly unbreakable were the ones involved in the actual execution of duty. A little flexibility did an organization good, for longevity.

"...And, to anticipate your question: yes, I am a Rifter."