Now that he wasn't looking at her, and had something to do--navigate a rocky path with a giant fish on his shoulders--he was having an easier time talking.
"No, the trouble talking and eye contact thing probably have more to do with years of isolation," he said, leaving off the crippling depression. "Not to mention a childhood lack of social interaction..."
But with the other question, he fell silent, watching her sidelong as they walked for a long moment. Finally, he sighed.
"I'm going to try to answer that," he said finally, a little flat in his tone. "Because... I think that has something to do with the lesson I'm trying to give you, about the Jedi. But I'll need a moment."
Squaring his shoulders, he made it to the stone hut he was using as a storeroom and stashed the fish inside. He'd smoke it later. For now, he moved to his hut, leaving the door open. Inside, he found a kettle and a jar of leaves, and set about making tea. The tea was for warmth, and to calm nerves. The making of it was to give his hands something to do while his mouth and brain rehearsed memories long left unspoken. But this was important, not as someone who had been dreaming about a young woman, but as a Jedi trying desperately to teach another why they had failed.
"It's complicated," he said, as he tipped some of the herbs from the jar into the pot. "Not in the holo-thriller sort of way. Just... I don't know that I've ever understood whether it was my temperament or my circumstances. First, I was simply too busy. Later..." He shrugged, busying himself by finding two mugs and blowing them out, as if potentially dusty. "Later, it seemed frivolous. How could I run a school, train young Jedi, and spend weekends off trysting with... Well, and there's that. With whom? Would I have found the time, and the woman, if it's what I had really wanted? Perhaps. What I do know is that the Jedi used to forbid attachments of that sort. I didn't want to make that same mistake. I refused to believe that strong feeling was necessarily damaging. And yet..."
no subject
"No, the trouble talking and eye contact thing probably have more to do with years of isolation," he said, leaving off the crippling depression. "Not to mention a childhood lack of social interaction..."
But with the other question, he fell silent, watching her sidelong as they walked for a long moment. Finally, he sighed.
"I'm going to try to answer that," he said finally, a little flat in his tone. "Because... I think that has something to do with the lesson I'm trying to give you, about the Jedi. But I'll need a moment."
Squaring his shoulders, he made it to the stone hut he was using as a storeroom and stashed the fish inside. He'd smoke it later. For now, he moved to his hut, leaving the door open. Inside, he found a kettle and a jar of leaves, and set about making tea. The tea was for warmth, and to calm nerves. The making of it was to give his hands something to do while his mouth and brain rehearsed memories long left unspoken. But this was important, not as someone who had been dreaming about a young woman, but as a Jedi trying desperately to teach another why they had failed.
"It's complicated," he said, as he tipped some of the herbs from the jar into the pot. "Not in the holo-thriller sort of way. Just... I don't know that I've ever understood whether it was my temperament or my circumstances. First, I was simply too busy. Later..." He shrugged, busying himself by finding two mugs and blowing them out, as if potentially dusty. "Later, it seemed frivolous. How could I run a school, train young Jedi, and spend weekends off trysting with... Well, and there's that. With whom? Would I have found the time, and the woman, if it's what I had really wanted? Perhaps. What I do know is that the Jedi used to forbid attachments of that sort. I didn't want to make that same mistake. I refused to believe that strong feeling was necessarily damaging. And yet..."