"All right." Jam. Sandwich. For him, the sandwich.

It takes him a moment to take it, but it goes down as rapidly as the first one once he does.

She starts on another. "Any plans for where you're going next?"

He shakes his head - he's worried about where she's going with these, about someone taking this much interest, but...

But she's feeding him and hasn't hurt him yet. "Hadn't thought this far ahead."

She nods, "that's all right," and offers him the sandwich, then closes up the jars and bag and sets them aside.

"I have a friend coming by in a while; will you wait for her with me?"

The third sandwich quickly goes the same way as the other two.

Then he shrinks in on himself again, and then nods. "Yes, ma'am." (He seems to be taking it more as an order then a request.)

Poor kid's probably spent some time around some Sith already, with that reaction.

"Were you done with your book?" She offers it over.

He looks cautiously at her hands, and the book. And his hand slowly edges over to take it, looking ready to pull back at any moment if she shows any sign of displeasure.

She's sort of carefully not making eye contact, mostly. The book stays where it is until he takes it.

He takes it, and shuffles slightly further away from her, and hunches over the book, flipping it open in his lap. (His other hand still isn't completely free of flames, but he keeps it well away from the book.)

She leaves him to it, directing her attention to her own book.

After a while - the sun has started to set, and it's beginning to get chilly - a speeder starts up the road toward them, and she gets up to go meet it. "Stay here," she tells the boy as she stands.

He's started shivering by this point (what he's wearing really isn't up to the dusk temperatures here).

"Yes, ma'am," he nods and carefully pushes the book as far away from himself as he can. Then he curls back around himself, rocking himself, and the flames spread back over his arms. (He's grateful for the warmth, but he doesn't think it's going to be helpful.)

She meets the speeder in the road; it's not really far enough for privacy, but better than nothing, and it seems like a good idea to give the kid some space.

"Evening, Levi."

    "Evening, Maris. Esser wants the kid out of town."

"Esser's going to get himself killed one of these years. The boy is fine; he's not hurting anything, he's just scared."

    "He's dangerous, Maris."

Sigh. "And pushing him around isn't going to make anybody safer. My boss is on her way; do you want to offend her, if she decides he's one of hers?"

    "- no, can't say I do."

"Then leave him alone. If he goes on a rampage, then you can play hero."

    "...all right, fair enough. I can't just leave you alone with him, though."

"Fine, just stay back. He's nervous enough with me."

    "All right."

She heads back up the steps; the man with the speeder goes to sit on a bench a few buildings down.

He's been watching, and his shaking is more pronounced. He flinches a little away from her when she comes back, but keeps watching the man, worried he's going to do something, even if he is a way from him.

"M'sorry?" he says.

"It's all right, you haven't done anything wrong, and he's not going to hurt you."

He nods a little hesitantly, and a little disbelievingly, and can't quite stop watching the man.

Slowly though, the flames ebb back to being flickers over the back of one hand, rather than obvious tongues licking up both arms.

She's gone back to her book by then, but nudges his back over when she notices.

He carefully scoops it back into his lap with a quiet murmur of: "Thank you, ma'am."

Time passes; it gets chillier, but they aren't disturbed. After a couple hours, she makes him a few more sandwiches, and one for herself.

And an hour after that, a subtle sense of doom descends on them, followed by a speeder driven by a black-cloaked figure turning onto the street.

He's (almost pathetically) grateful for the sandwiches, and they don't hang around much longer than the first three.

He starts shivering more with the subtle sense of doom, pushing the book away again. He watches the new speeder, chewing on his lip, trying very hard to stop the flames from winding up his arms again. (He manages, for now, to stop them at his wrists.)

The speeder stops in front of the library; the driver takes a small box from the center console and clips it to her belt before approaching. "Marisel;" she nods a greeting, and gets one in return. "And what's your name?"

He's hunched down as she approaches, and flinches when he's addressed, fire lunges up over his wrists in time with his surge in anxiety. It takes him a moment to scramble for something that might be an acceptable answer. "I- Nova, ma'am? If you. Like?"

"Nova. All right." She motions for Marisel to come down the steps and away from him, and waits for her to do so before continuing. "Can you control that fire, Nova?"

He nods desperately. "Yes, ma'am," he says desperately. (It's true sometimes.) "I promise, I can." (The flames on his hands don't seem to be listening to his promise.)