[It's taken some thinking. Who here was the least insufferable? And simultaneously, the least likely to take advantage of the situation? It's not that she wants to play the train's games, but after how long being stuck gathering the Korogu seeds, she's desperate for an alternative.
After rustling through the directory, she finds a candidate. It's your lucky day.]
At least then the worst they can do is spit on their palm or smear something nasty on you! The terms are already defined!!!!
Anybody could ask me to eat worms, or stand outside in my underwear, or take filthy pictures or ANYTHING! And I'd have to say yes!!!! Don't you see the situation I'm in?
Regardless, she's made up her mind to follow through. Even if he realizes how revolting she is, or rips his hand away halfway through. Even if she gets there and he's already holding hands with a different girl, she'll complete this task.
It's final. It's easy.
Theoretically.
Toko arrives within twenty minutes, head bowed and glancing shiftily to the side. She almost trips over a Corgi but is otherwise ready to face the music.]
He's posted up on a grassy hill overlooking those strange, columned buildings, a gaggle of corgis lounging in the grass around him. One of them is halfway in his lap while he rubs its belly, though it quickly scatters as Toko approaches. ]
Uh. Fukawa?
[ Cal blinks up at her from his spot on the grass, genuinely perplexed by her silence. ]
[Without looking him in the eye (or even stopping to pat some good boys and girls), Toko closes the distance between them and drops into a sit at his side. Her hands are knotted in her lap. She scowls at the grass.
He was so casual. Even when they were being attacked by flying faces and badly stuffed bats, he never lost his even keel. How could they think that holding hands would flummox him? It was, almost literally, a walk in the park for this guy.]
[ She says yes, but... something's obviously bothering her. So he's quiet while she sits down next to him, letting her settle. When she finally gets around to her question, it makes him let out a quiet huff of laughter. ]
I wouldn't go that far.
[ He doesn't shy away from physical touch—the Jedi don't, in general—but holding hands with someone is a little more than he's used to. But honestly, he doesn't think it's really about that. He's been alone for a long time, forced to fend for himself, and it's made him... not good at trusting people, opening up to them.
He looks over at her, a small, rueful smile on his face. ]
Honestly, I don't think I've done this since I was a youngling.
[Now she faces him, brows raised and mouth parted. The phrase youngling is groanworthy, it's probably ripped from some high fantasy lore, but the implication is weighty. Thick as haunted fog.
He's smiling, but there's nothing jubilant about it.]
[ Look, blame George Lucas for youngling. I don't like it either.
He looks away from her—forward again, shifting to pull his knees up so that he can rest his arms on them. It has the effect of making it look like he's curling in on himself. Protective.
It's probably not the type of family she's thinking of, he knows that, but it still counts to him. The Jedi Order was his family. His Master was his family. ]
Yeah. A while ago. I've been on my own since then.
It's odd. Toko doesn't think she's ever seen a man of his size curl up like that. Well, boy. He's no older than she is, and she's still no woman. Still, it piques her interest, drawing her focus tight on his cinched in frame.
Is there any point in asking what happened? He might not want to say. It's rude to ask, right? Toko is used to assuming people just lost their loved ones in the Tragedy, and that was all you needed to know.
Not that most people talked to her about anything, anyway.]
...What about those Knights? The— [Shit, what was it?] —Jidai? The magic ones. Th-they took you in right?
[ He smiles a little at her description, not bothering to correct her, but it quickly turns rueful, pinched at the corners. ]
They were my family. I grew up in the Order.
[ And then they were all gone, almost in a matter of minutes. Tens of thousands of Jedi, all betrayed by their troops and cut down. It's been five years since then, and it's a little easier for him to talk about now—but still, his expression is subdued, that old grief climbing up his throat. ]
Anakin—the other Jedi you met—he came from before. [ That's probably why he's even here, though: ] I don't know if he made it.
[He's reticent. Most men are. Neglectful of their hearts, hardening their exteriors. She's written about the easing of those barriers, piece by piece, between winsome women and the difficult men they choose to love.
None of those fancies give her anything to work with now. She doesn't think he'd like it if she softly brushed the hair from his face.
Instead she's gone silent again. Anakin, from before. What could that mean, that he was some resurrected hero from a time long past? And — hey, just when did she decide to give credence to these outlandish stories people keep spinning?
She purses her lips and shoots him a look, but...
...
He looks like a child. Underneath that thin-lipped smile and protective posture is an old wound, something left to fester. That's not faked. Not simulated. She hopes not. She can't trust that this train is real, but the pain this boy feels is.
Finally, she speaks.]
I-I...I think I heard something like that happening to another passenger, too. Not that it makes it easier, but. Um. [She's biting into her thumb again. When did that happen?] Y-you're not alone you know! There's other people here with sad things and. Stories about...Though that doesn't make what happened to you any less sh-shitty.
[And if it were an order of Knights with mind powers, just what would it take to wipe them out? Killers with even bigger, scarier mind powers? Ugh. Sci-fi was not her genre. Too much was possible and the stakes were never real.
War, though. Annihilation. Those are concepts that carry anywhere.]
There's a lot of stories that glorify being alone. The lone warrior, the lone w-wolf. But in the end, I think they're p-pretty stupid. Maybe being alone makes you tough in some ways, but...who the hell is meant to be alone? What kind of existence is that?
So. It's okay. Not that it's okay th-that that happened to you but that...it hurts. And you miss them. [Does this make her sound like an idiot? Or did she get too far away from what he was saying in the first place?]
I hope he made it too. Did you talk to him about it?
[ All it takes is her first couple of sentences for him to relax, let his grief settle again, and smile, all softness and warmth. She's trying her best to console and comfort him—that's easy enough for him to see—even if she isn't particularly good or confident about it.
But she's trying, and that's plenty enough for him. And hey, it does work. ]
I do miss them. But you're right—it's okay. It took me a really long time to realize that.
[ There's a hint of humor there, referencing his very difficult journey coming to terms with the loss. This journey has everything! Zombies, shirtless hobo grandpas, locking eyes with your opponent over your crossed lightsabers in a sexy way, locking eyes with your opponent over your crossed lightsabers in a not sexy way, hot goth space witches, mental breakdowns over crystals, and getting stabbed in a way that should kill you but somehow didn't.
It was very eventful.
He shifts a little to turn partway towards her, legs stretching out. Still with that warm smile on his face. ]
I did. He knows about what happens to us, the Jedi.
His smile draws a small echo from her. There and gone again, her eyes back on the grass. She's no good at speeches. Komaru wasn't either, but she spoke from the heart with such ease that Toko hopes she's done her at least a little proud. He seems in better spirits. That's what matters.
Ugh. All this sentimentality. He better not expect this out of her again.]
Hmm...I...uh. [Her thumb is between her teeth again as she mulls the possibility over.] I know there's plenty of stories about time travel and how w-warning people about the future doesn't work out, but... Those are just stories. Written by people, and people are never as clever as they think they are. M-maybe some part of him will remember what you said, and he'll make a quick getaway.
Besides, it would be a shame to lose a guy like him... [Is that a blush painting her cheeks just now? Did her eyes turn a dreamy glance to the heavens? Perhaps.]
...Oh!
[Toko snaps out of the daydream and without warning, snatches Cal's hand in hers. The other hand, not the one with the thumb that was just in her mouth.]
I-I've washed today! So you have no right to complain, got it?
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