Kanan fell silent again. This time, he didn't reach for his cup to mask his silence.

There was guilt, there, gnawing at him from inside, for the crimes of an order that had fallen four thousand years before his time. It was the guilt of a man who knew exactly what that felt like. He wasn't so certain that the one standing in front of him now really did, centuries as he was after the purges, himself.

"I'm more a caf person, admittedly."

Why. Why, mouth. Why were you like this. Why, after that, were those the first six words you managed to scrape together?