Kanan was anxious. Had been for some time now, as the summer built up to its grand finale, and now he was finding himself drowning in it a little, between numerous nightmare realities and the would-be execution and Rey vanishing and coming back a Jedi and now Summer, planning to head to Coruscant of all places.

And once upon a time, when he found himself this anxious, he'd run.

Didn't trust himself to come back, if he took off alone.

Had to do something productive.

And so he sent off a text.

Headed home for a supply run before new students show up. You in?

And then he made his way up to The Escape and he waited.

[OOC: For one!]

Funny thing, Kanan hadn't been by the scrapyard since Saturday. That Saturday. Where he'd been marched there with a death sentence hanging over his head. Which wasn't because he was traumatized by the whole thing. Honest. He was fine. He was completely fine. He'd never been so fine in his whole life.

You could tell he was fine because he kept forcing himself to go out and socialize and do all the things that fine people did! All week so far, even!

...

But today his get up and go had kind of gotten up and went. So he was calling a 'stay home' day. Maybe he'd ask Chop to walk Stance for him. After all, it was finally safe to and the poor pup had been cooped up all summer. He just sort of wanted to hang out in the living room today. Maybe order delivery. See if there was anything good on TV.

Be fine.

[OOC: For she who also lives here, but open for calls/visits!]

Kanan's head was rebelling on him.

Well. More than his head. All of his senses. If Rapture had been bad, this place had been a slow-burn flood into hell itself, the sickness creeping through everything on the island until all Kanan could feel was the poison battering at his defenses, a Force migraine gone overboard.

He hadn't been infected, no, but it had gotten bad enough that he wasn't even certain he could get out of bed today if he wanted to, and not just because he had a dog sprawled across his feet and a cat on his chest, insisting he stay put. Mostly because he was warm, granted, but at least a little bit because he wasn't whatever that creeping horror was outside.

... He wasn't inclined to argue.

This wasn't a great week to be nominally Jedi on this island, no.

[OOC: ... My Friday spam is so much simpler when most of the regulars are monsters. Open for anyone who has any business visiting/calling Kanan at home!]

Once again, Kanan came through the portal back to Fandom with a squirming, excited Stance in his arms. And while Stance was happy just to be back to familiar turf, Kanan was thrilled to be back on the island and pulling in deep breaths of air without regret.

So, the walk back to the apartment had been nice. The growing feeling of... something... like a storm in his senses just building pressure? He could have done without that.

Finding the door to his apartment already unlocked, and stepping into the kitchen to see a young half-Twi'lek girl trying to stand up on her toes, delivering bossy instructions from just behind a slightly older half-Twi'lek boy while he attempted to fry a couple of eggs?

"These things don't even surprise me anymore," he muttered to nobody in particular, just in time for Anan to spin on her heel, give a delighted squee, and come barreling toward the kitchen doorway in order to wrap her little arms around--

"Stance!"

Yep. Nothing surprised him anymore at all.

[OOC: For Hera, and any visitors who might want to pop by!]

It was just supper.

You know. Like always, because Kanan did the cooking in this... apartment. Because it wasn't a relationship. It had been made clear that it wasn't going to be a relationship until the state of the galaxy was much improved, and Kanan respected that.

So it was just supper.

With chocolate for dessert. Chocolate that was far too bitter and far too hot for Kanan to eat without being sent into major gastronomic distress, so really, it was dessert for Hera, and Kanan would be perfectly happy with fruit salad, and he wasn't at all overthinking this, or kind of freaking out that she'd gotten him a dozen roses with a beautiful note or that Summer had upstaged him again with the damn prank flowers, he was fine about that, really. And the other flowers (and the one tiny trebuchet that had him laughing hopelessly for a good ten minutes) that had come to the apartment were okay. If he set them all around the living room then it was clearly putting everyone else's gifts on display because they were thoughtful and lovely and not even a little bit because they were atmospheric.

And he was hoping that, you know, maybe Hera wouldn't get the wrong idea from the fact that he'd clearly gone home to shop for that mynock and all the spices to go with. He'd clearly already just been in the neighborhood; he'd gotten nerf for himself too, see? Which he'd totally been planning on doing all along and hadn't just done because Jack had told him to after he'd almost killed himself with spiced chocolate.

Because, you know. It was just supper. Because Kanan did the cooking in this apartment.

[OOC: For the captain!]

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!]

Kaidan was test-driving a new outfit under his armor. A bamboo-fiber quick-wicking shirt with a seamless design and a pair of cargo pants he’d adapted to have more updated fastenings than 21st century Earth. He brought the Eagle and his own Scorpion, as well as a duffle bag to store his armor in once they got to wherever they were going. In theory, they weren’t looking for trouble. In reality, he didn’t really go anywhere without being armed for bear anymore these days. In all honesty, trouble sounded like fun. He fully realized he was in Bad Life Choice mode.

He got to the building and texted Kanan to let him know he was there.

( Cut for actual literal novella, oops. )

[Preplayed (post-played?) and backposted with spectre_alenko! What these idiots got up to that weekend.]

Back in a people-shape again, Kanan was starting to get back into the swing of things. He needed to make a stop by his office today, for starters. Being a cat had meant that he'd fallen behind on his share of the calling around, seeing if there were any organizations on the mainland who could use a few volunteers for an hour on a Friday sometime during the semester. Because Stance wasn't going to let him just hunker down and place those calls from home, he'd made his way in to his office.

It wasn't until he'd sat himself down at his desk and had his hand halfway to his phone that he looked up to see the painting on his door.

...

...

"Sabine!"

Just what he needed. Permanent evidence that he had been an adorable Loth-cat, after all. Dammit.

[OOC: Open office hours since he's here anyway!]

Kanan didn't spend much time in his office, these days. He supposed he ought to, but most students who needed him tended to be able to find him, either at the diner or on Fridays while he was training with his lightsaber.

This Friday... he was not going to be training with his lightsaber, no, and he'd messaged all the usual Friday suspects to tell them as much. If they needed him for anything besides, he was going to be in his office at the school, with a kettle of hot water on for tea, because... yeah, he was still not going to share his caf.

There was a bit of tidying to do, since he hadn't held office hours in roughly forever, so he busied himself with that while he waited for what he was sure was potentially impending disaster. He'd had to leave his blaster at home. His lightsaber was, of course, still in its component parts on his belt, because there was no way on Malachor he was going without after that one year where Vader had arrived on the island.

Ever.

Nope.

He hated Parents Weekend so much.

[OOC: Open!]

Kanan had been doing... impressively well, all things considered. Trip to Coruscant, re-treading old trauma, wrapping his head around the possibility of actually continuing his training.

Staying up all hours of the night, afraid to close his eyes.

Okay. Some things weren't going as well as others. Tonight was one of those nights, Kanan laying on the flat of his back, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep seemed to be evading him, taking a back seat to the shadows in his head, instead. And for not the first time this month, he tried to ignore it for as long as he could, tried to center himself, push beyond the pain so that he could at least get some rest, whether it would ultimately be restful or not.

However, after a good, long while of just sitting with his own thoughts tonight, he did something he hadn't done before.

"Hera...? You awake?"

[OOC: For one!]