MCA #3, Monday Morning

Kanan hadn't really intended to last night, but there'd been a dog and a busy work shift and a lot of thinking to do with not a whole hell of a lot of answers, and while his day had ended with him falling asleep on the couch wondering why the hell a Jedi would carry a blaster and hide his lightsaber, this morning had brought a certain sort of clarity to the answer that had led to a good few minutes biting back the rising taste of bile in his throat as the last ten years of his life all caught up to him again.

He was dimly aware that maybe he should check on people. Make sure Hera was doing fine, call up Kaidan and let hm know he had checked back in, mentally. Do the same with Jack and Kitty and see how Eliot was faring after the weekend. But instead he was just sort of sitting on the couch, eyes shut, hands buried in his too-short hair while he quietly reminded himself that Jedi didn't hate, even if in this moment, he very thoroughly hated this island, this morning, and the person he'd become, instead of the person he apparently could have been.

... And his hair.

[OOC: Open!]