I know myself now. I didn't then.

He answers quickly – maybe too quickly, but considering what he’s just gone through, it’s understandable. She’s proud of him for wanting to do something to keep his mind occupied, and not letting himself dwell on fear. Reflection is important for all Jedi, of course, but too much reflection turns into excessive self-criticism, and Siri’s pretty sure that such would definitely be the case for Ferus. 

Sometimes it’s best to keep moving, and give both the head and the hands something to do, so that the Force can guide balance back into the emotional stress. It’s something that Siri has found helpful on a number of occasions, and advice that she’s given Ferus a time or two as well, when she’s seen that little furrow in his brow that she always suspects means he’s about to think himself into a headache.

Plus, he’d had plenty of time to sit and ‘reflect’ stuck in that damp kriffing duracreet room.

“Good, I’m sure Garen will be grateful,” Siri replies, meaning it sincerely and hoping that Ferus trusts the sincerity of it. Even to her Padawan, Siri isn’t one to just throw around meaningless reassurances filled with nothing more than enough air to fill an Alderaanian puffcake. Garen takes his flight courses seriously, when he’s asked to teach or create them, and she knows Ferus well enough to know that he’ll give Garen sincere and helpful feedback on the course. 

She pauses a second, then, not exactly asking what she’s wanting to ask, but also not really wanting to pressure him when he’s already said he’s alright, she adds, “You want another sweetcake or anything?” Even while she means: are you sure you’re okay?

Ferus thinks the question over, wanting to respect it. Because he knows what she’s really asking and he wants to give her a real answer, both because she deserves the truth and because he knows it will benefit him too.

So he takes stock. He still feels shaken, but not afrad. His mind is quieting considerably with the promise of something to do and being away from the school. The stars streaking by outside the ship windows are a comfort just for showing how fast they’re going, how much distance is being put between them and Andara. 

There are still feelings of betrayal, hurt and disappointment in Anakin, but those aren’t exactly new. He’s felt them time and again, just never quite this pronounced. He still knows how to deal with them. The strange fear he’s feeling regarding Anakin is new, but he chooses to put it aside. 

And he’s with his Master now, who came when he reached out to her. Still tasting the sweetcake.

Yeah. He’s okay.

“Our paths have crossed a few times,” a drastic understatement, “I was actually there when Qui-Gon first met him on Tatooine.” And the rest is history, a hidden history for the most part but they have been seen together professionally before.

Padmè looks up to the ceiling in thought, “A hero?” Certainly a hero, but in his own way. “An unconventional one, but I hear the clones assigned to him respect and look up to him. He’s made great progress for the Republic.”

Well, that’s new information, at least to Ferus: that Padmé Anidala was there when Anakin was found by the Jedi Order. It’s interesting and something Ferus will be sure to remember.

@bellassan liked for a Padme starter

“I hear you’ve been keeping an eye on Leia.”

It’s a secret, yes, and so it is spoken softly and in private. To tell Fess, in private, that she is in the confidence of Breha and Bail. That Padme knows the importance of Leia.

She’s not sure if Fess knows Padme’s role, but that is, perhaps, something that they can discuss now. Padme’s role, if there is one at all.

“I wanted to thank you.”

Don’t, Ferus wants to say. Don’t thank me. Because he doesn’t feel that he is owed or deserving of any gratitude, not for doing what was asked of him when he’d already failed to so much else.

But those aren’t the words that come out, because those aren’t what Padmé wants or needs to hear. She’s in a strange situation now. A mother both with and without her child. All she wants is assurance.

Ferus can try to give her as much.

She laughs lightly as he leans in conspiratorially, asking about her date. “Well he was charming enough to keep around for a few weeks, at least,” Susan answers, not sure she’d exactly quantify him as a winner – but also not sure if she’s really looking for a winner right now or just some fun, or even quite if she knows the precise qualifications she’s looking for in order for someone to be a winner. 

“Though he did order dinner for me without asking if he could, which always feels a bit presumptuous.” At least, it feels presumptuous when it’s someone she doesn’t know; someone who doesn’t know her tastes, or when she hasn’t asked for an order to be placed on her behalf while she washes her hands, or when it isn’t phrased in the sort of way that’s a friendly ‘oh you’ll love this dish, I come here all the time, you’ve got to try it, it’s fabulous.’ “It was good, though – some sort of game hen – not a salad.” She doesn’t have anything against salad, but when a man orders a woman a salad for dinner, that’s when you know that the first date ought to be the last.

“So what’s that, a seven out of ten experience?”

It’s a little teasing, because Ferus knows just as well as she does that you can’t exactly put a score on a date that way, nevermind a person as a whole, but when you’re just trying to explain a vibe or an impression? Numbers work well enough.