She listens to a tale of tragedy and woe that would have brought down nearly anyone - that he is still standing is a testament to the man, quite frankly.

"The young ones," she replies, barely a whisper, in recognition. But she also sets aside her tea, and shifts closer, seating herself on her knees in front of him.

"And I do this for your own good," she said. "Please, understand."

And she reached out to fold her arms around him in a hug. It wasn't very Jedi-like, no. It wasn't Jedi-like to fret. It wasn't Jedi-like to be...anything of what they were. But the thing she'd learned at Revan's side was that it wasn't the council who defined what it was to be a Jedi. It was yourself, and nobody else. And sitting across from her, by her measure, was one of the greatest Jedi the Order had ever, would ever, produce. A man so good that he had endured the end of everything he believed in and served, and still not fallen.

Comfort, care - these were not alien to the Jedi. But the core of what they should be.

"You are a good man, Ben Kenobi," she finished, pulling back. "Hard though I think it is for you to see it right now."