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Hera never brings him food herself. She does usually help prepare it – she has a better sense of the Terran diet than most, and when it comes down to it, she doesn't fully trust the others not to poison a meal they know is going to their half-Terran 'guest.' But she always finds someone she does trust to take it into him. And then, at first, she'd waited, leaving him to eat alone before she entered his room.

She kept to the first. But the second, she gradually eased. Hera remembered how total her isolation had been, and what had eased in her when she'd grown used to sharing meals. That was something she could do, even if she wouldn't serve him.

So the time she waits becomes shorter and shorter. Until today, when it's only a few minutes after seeing Muroc exit the makeshift cabin that she approaches. She nods to the guard, and then though she doesn't have to, she knocks on the door. She doesn't wait for an answer before entering the room.

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Kanan doesn't startle as Hera comes in, because he's gotten used to her inevitable arrival. He even finds himself looking forward to it, and thus waits for her appearance before actually beginning his meal.

"Did you want to sit?" he asks, as if he's actually hosting a visitor instead of being, well, a prisoner of sorts.

"I'd offer to share, but I don't know if the seasoning is to your taste."

"It was prepared for you."

She does, however, move to sit across the table they've set up for him.

"I know," Kanan says, mustering up a faint smile. "And I know the human palate is very bland."

A pause, and he takes a bite of his meal as Hera sits.

"I'm not as sure about the Betazoid part, I've never . . . really had the opportunity."

"I know some like uttaberries. They're a little sweet for me, but..."

She doesn't smile in return, and yet, "... maybe we can track some down."

"Oh, don't go out of your way or anything. Just -- "

He cuts himself off, taking another bite of his meal, because it's better when it's hot.

"I was just wondering. I've got a lot of time for that, just now."

She tilts her head.

"Well, once you've finished your breakfast, we'll give you something else to do."

He looks up at her at that, expression slightly guarded.

"Betazoid work?"

"No."

Hera watches him for a moment. "But it might help you with that, later."

"All right."

Not all of the wariness has left his face, but it's faded some. He can't help his not-so-suddenly increased desire to know more about his mother's people, their skills, their --

"Do I get to finish eating while you talk? Or -- "

She blinks, just a hint of surprise in it.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your meal."

"No, it's fine, I just -- "

His cheeks are very faintly pink, and he ducks his head to focus on eating for a little while longer.

"Sorry."

Hera doesn't answer this.

But after a few seconds, maybe sensing that her watching him might make him uncomfortable, she averts her eyes to the floor instead, and waits in silence for him to finish eating.

The flush of color fades from Kanan's skin as he finishes eating. (The absence of Hera's direct gaze helps, too. He still resents the gratitude a little, but even that fades with time.)

Eventually he looks back up, pushing the tray away from himself and taking a last swallow of water.

"I'm done. Thanks. Um. You were saying?"

Her eyes flicker to the empty tray.

And then she stands, folding her hands behind her back as she moves. "You can come with me."

She turns, partly, but waits for him to move before she takes another step.

It takes him a moment to fully absorb that statement, looking from her to the door and back to her again before clumsily pulling himself to his feet.

He almost knocks the tray over, but manages to rescue it, eyes cast down for a moment. Then he resolutely looks back up.

"All right. I guess I'll find out where we're going when we get there?"

Hera watches this, and meets his eyes as he looks back up to her.

And with some effort, she softens her voice. Slightly.

"Just somewhere with a little more room."

"Fair enough," Kanan says, but he's not smiling at all now.

And he waits, hands clasped behind his back, for Hera to open the door.

Hera does open the door, again nodding to the guard as they pass, who also rises to follow them. She leads him down the hall, and up a couple flights of stairs. Most of those they pass walk by with their eyes averted, though a few do openly stare, and one Kelpien slipped right out of the hall the moment he spotted them.

Hera doesn't acknowledge any of this, though she does frequently blink back to Kanan, and the guard walking behind them.

After about five minutes, she stops at another door, and opens it. The guard takes up a position standing by it, and as Hera enters the room, lights lined along the ceiling flicker on. It is a larger room, and mostly empty, except for a steel cupboard in one corner, a few hooks along the wall, and set of black mats laid out along the floor.

Kanan's face is like stone. Maybe someday he'll figure out how to separate mental shielding from the more physical kind, but --

Right now it's a no-go.

Some of that stiffness falls away as he enters the room behind Hera, studying the setup with surreptitious glances.

(The back of his neck still prickles with awareness of the guard, sometimes. This is one of those times.)

Hera heads for the cabinet, opening one side of it. Near the top hang several sets of white clothing, and below this there's a shelf with a closed pitcher and several steel cups. Hera pours water from the pitcher into two of the cups.

She pauses after setting the pitcher down again, for a few seconds just staring down at the cups. But then, she shakes her head a little, and lifts up the cup, before walking back over to Kanan.

"I take it they didn't teach you much about other species." she asks, as she holds out one of the cups to him.

"No."

Kanan shakes his head, reaching out reflexively to take the proffered cup.

"At least -- nothing that I wanted to learn."

Which was certainly a disappointment to his father. Wanting to take people apart is a useful talent in the Terran Empire.

"Well, I want to show you something one of my teachers taught me."

She pauses long enough to take a sip from her own cup. "It's a Klingon martial arts form called Mok'bara."

He half-smiles, though the wariness doesn't quite leave his gaze.

"This isn't some half-baked excuse to break all my bones, right?"

Then he shakes his head.

"No, sorry, I know you wouldn't -- "

She'd just do it, is the thing, no excuses necessary. So this really is what she says it is.

Hera lets that one pass without comment.

"Mok'bara is the basis for many Klingon combat techniques. But its purpose is to clear your mind, and to help you stay calm and focused."

She suspects it goes without saying that this is something he could probably use.

Edited 2018-08-14 05:38 (UTC)

"Focused, huh?"

He leaves the 'calm' part alone, largely because that's the more true piece of things.

"That'd be . . . nice."