Was he really so unused to company that the prospect confused him? Or had he always been like this? It was hard to remember, now. He knew friends had never been something he'd had a lot of, and he'd once blamed that on the harsh landscape of Tatooine. He later wondered if it was him, but it hadn't really mattered by that point--his destiny had seemed fixed, locked in. And friends were not something a Jedi Master really had the luxury of worrying about.

"I'm not especially known for my conversation," he said hesitantly, after a moment. What if he began talking and couldn't stop? What if he began talking and she figured out he was just a crazy old man on an island? What if she realized he wasn't an old man at all, but a confused Outer Rim rube gone rusty?

He doesn't want to get to know her, because he is afraid to be known.

He turned unerringly to the side of the path, where a porg nest lay protected by rocks, and picked up a fresh egg. They always laid at least two, and there were enough of the birds on the island, so he doesn't feel bad about leaving fewer mouths to feed. He'll pick up a few more on the way back to the old huts.

"Tell me," he said, "about Leia."

There was a lot in that one word, a lifetime of love but misunderstanding, too. Leia was the other piece of his soul, and losing that connection had broken him as much as the rest.