It's nurse Wogan, with lunch and the scanner. Pradnakt allows the scan without complaint.

He does as well, and nods his thanks for the food.

It's a little odd, now that he thinks about it, to have people waiting on them like this. Not bad, but odd.

She's a little concerned, at the scan, and it shows on her face, but she doesn't say anything.

You'll get used to it, Love.

(She notices the concern, but - she can see him, see that he's fine; she's not worried.)

But he can't see her, not with the same detail and certainty, yet.

"What did you see?"

(The idea of getting used to it is troubling. He's not sure why. He puts that away for later.)

"You're - bruised."

"I sure am," he says fondly.

She nods, still unhappy. "I'll let Dr. Deyne talk to you about it."

"...okay."

He's obviously confused, but he lets it go. Maybe they'll need to wait to do this again until his arm heals more completely, or something. That's fine.

She leaves them to their lunch - breaded fish kebabs with some unfamiliar sort of citrus fruit and peppery seaweed bulbs, with miniature vegetable muffins on the side.

Most people wouldn't like being all bruised up, you know, she points out between bites.

oh.

yeah. i guess they wouldn't.

He steals a bulb off her fork.

you kind of end up that way anyway, though, if you're fighting.

(Gosh, he's cute. It's novel, having someone trust her so much, even if she knows he can see perfectly well that she won't hurt him.)

Yeah, they won't be too happy about that, either, if they think I was fighting you. It's a hospital, people are supposed to be safe here. Another scrap of memory drifts back to them, a lesson on how to escalate in terrorizing a town or city; attacking a hospital is fairly serious, a step above attacking a children's school and roughly on par with attacking a temple, depending on how religious the population is.

This information would be laughably awful if he didn't know with such certainty that it was true. He can't laugh at this yet.

He pushes it away, tries to forget it was ever taught to them, but as things do when you try to forget them, it persists.

- oh.

Uh.

There's... really not much she can do about that. She's not even sure it's among the more disturbing things they'll know, once they get her memories back. (She could, maybe, block herself from getting them back at all. But it'd be risky, and she doesn't actually want to.)

It's not about the information, entirely. He can deal with knowing things.

It's about the kind of person who needs this, who was taught this as a practical lesson.

(It's about the fact that there's an order of operations of hurting-people-the-most, and the knowledge that dead children were certainly involved in finding it.)

Ah.

Yeah.

Well, the chance of her ever needing it is ...basically zero, at least, now that her master is dead. She's not going to be given assignments, now, and that's not the sort of thing she'd do on her own under any but the most extreme circumstances.

when would you do it?

If they were hurting you, she answers immediately. Or Daisy.

...it's probably wrong, to find that reassuring.

But there's a difference between imagining her taking a town apart just – because – and imagining it happening because someone was hurting him. (Or Daisy.)

She gives him a squeeze, more for her own sake than for his. I don't like hurting people. That's the way the world is, and doubly so when you're a sith and have to look strong to be safe; she'll do it, she wouldn't be alive if she wouldn't. But she doesn't like it.

...yeah. i didn't think you did.

Hug.

except me, when it's fun.

Yeah, that's different. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't enjoy it. She offers him a bite of fruit.

Nom.

so glad i still can.

Yeah.

Anyway it's not surprising that they'd be worried. They don't know that you're you. Or that I'm me.