The room, he likes.

His parents weren’t exactly poor, but it’s not like they traveled much together, so this is the first time he’s actually been in a room much like this one.

(It’s odd to be thinking about things he used to be so much. Are they really his memories now?)

Without thinking about it much, he looks with what Force senses he’s developed to see if there are fish in the fishtank.

There's one tiny fish, a little shocked from her recent sudden relocation, hiding among the leaves.

(They're yours if you want them. They're where you came from, even if they're not what you are.)

Their guide bustles around the room, showing them the controls for the comm, climate controls, music system, and holoviewer, and then asks if he can get them anything to make their stay more comfortable.

I don't think so. You? Pastries, maybe, but she'd rather wait until they can enjoy them properly, after whatever medical things are about to happen.

He watches the little fish intently.

i'm okay.

"No." (There's got to be, like, Sith etiquette, for a situation like this; too bad she doesn't remember it. Oh well.)

   "Very well, lord." He bows again, suppressing the urge to stare at them. "The doctor will be here in a moment."

"Good." He goes.

The fish isn't doing very much. She might come out of hiding once she's a little calmer.

She's very simple. It's nice.

He hopes they'll take care of her once the Sith are gone, once the room is empty and she has nobody to look at her.

are we ready?

She pulls him in for a hug. I don't think we're going to be more ready.

And then, ready or not, the doctor arrives, tapping on the doorframe before coming into the room. He's an older Dorfu, from the gentle web of wrinkles around his eyes, with close-cropped hair and a trio of plain silver rings pierced along the outer portion of each eyebrow, complementing their silvery sheen. He seems confident, even to Force senses, and friendly; a little curious, but not pushy.

"Lord Pradnakt, and friend? I'm Dr. Deyne, I'll be taking care of you while you're here. Why don't you have a seat and we can get started?" He gestures to the dining-table chairs, and takes the one from the desk for himself.

Pradnakt considers the chairs, and opts to settle them both into one, with him on her lap; she drapes one arm over his lap and reaches up to pet his head reassuringly with the other hand.

He looks over the doctor warily.

(He has...some sort of feeling about the piercings, but he can't tell what. It's very nebulous and difficult and mostly just makes his stomach hurt.)

Everything's fine, for now. He lays his hand on her arm and listens.

"First off - I want you to be comfortable with everything that happens, here; if there's something you don't want, just say the word, and it'll stop immediately. I know you've had a tough time, recently, and the last thing we want to do is make that worse for you."

This seems incredibly suspicious.

He nods, though.

I'll kill them if they hurt you, and I'm sure they know it, she reminds. You're safe. They want to be safe, too.

The doctor nods back, a little more serious now. "So, from what your droid told us, you both need checkups, and we should check your amputations to make sure they're healing properly and get you fitted for a prosthetic and a hormone pump, is that right?" Pradnakt nods, and he continues. "I think the scans should be the top priority - they're not invasive, and we can set them up so you can go in them together - but we can do it in whatever order you'd like."

That's reassuring, somehow. He nods.

He might as well get the question he doesn't want to ask out of the way now, though.

He takes a minute to collect his thoughts.

"How good do they get? The prosthetics?"

With an implicit 'how good could they get here, for me?'

"Just as good as the original, except that they need maintenance. Better, in some cases."

He lets out a breath that it feels like he's been holding since

yesterday.

"...can I learn to do the maintenance myself?"

I've worked on prosthetics, at least the once. It can't be that complicated.

"Basic maintenance, yes. We recommend that anything more complicated be brought to a technician, but if you'd like to get your own certification, I'm sure we can find you a class to take."

He nods firmly.

(He's building up a list of things he has to learn, ways to become just as dangerous and just as self-sufficient as he has to be to be a person again.)

"All right. Would you like me to send a tech up to go over your options in more detail?"

"Yeah. Please."

He nods. "I'll have them send someone up as soon as they can. Is there anything else you'd like to take care of now?"

He thinks about asking a question about the pump, but–maybe one thing at a time.

He shakes his head.

He nods. "I'll let you get settled in, then. Don't hesitate to call if there's anything we can do for you." And they're left alone again.