It was with a sigh that Obi-Wan finally ceased his contemplation of the night sky, the galaxy, the weight of everything that fell upon them--and that, one day, would fall upon Luke and Leia. But tonight was not that night, and for now a little peace could perhaps be found in sharing a quiet meal with what little was left of his family. A family that had become even smaller in the past week, something for which he knew Ferus was still blaming himself.

He checked on the eopie pair once more, watched them settle down for the evening, then re-entered his makeshift house.

Dinner at least was done (and probably done better than he could have managed, at that), and he watched Ferus for a moment as he removed it from the heat. Obi-Wan pulled the hood of his cloak down, then took it off and hung it up neatly, before he entered the kitchen. He nodded to his guest quietly, a small appreciative gesture, before he started to get the dishes for them both.

Let them come to you, he thought, and so he remained silent. Ferus was the one who knew best what Ferus needed. Obi-Wan would let him dictate the conversation over supper, should there be any.