Softening further, Ferus nodded but bowed his head slightly in a moment of silent struggle. He thought again of Roan's death, could still replay it far too clearly in his mind. But while the strike through Roan's heart and his eyes losing their warmth as he slipped away from him was as painful as ever and made Ferus' own eyes sting, for once, that wasn't the focus of the memory.

Instead, he thought of after. Of Vader- Anakin- holding him in the air and throwing him harshly aside. Of the certainty that he would be executed. Most importantly, on realizing that he didn't care.

Roan was a body, and so Ferus' own life hadn't mattered.

It had taken him a few days to get out of that haze, he'd thought, but it was more clear now than ever that he was still deep inside it.

He felt tears form, and he leaned further into his hand, nodding again.

"Me, too", he said quietly. He didn't care to try to sound convincing. It was true. He was glad to have found purpose again despite everything, and he was glad to reconnect with Obi-Wan, that Obi-Wan let him stay - and he was happy to be here, where he could at least approximate peace and calm.

But he wasn't all that sure that he was glad to be alive. He accepted his life, and he would make the best he could of it. But it was empty, and would be emptier still, after he left this little hovel in a vast desert in a place he'd never thought he'd find himself.