[Such a belligerent stare. Such an angry, anguished little dumpling, and though Kanan has far from forgotten his own disappointment, still, a small part of him is vaguely endeared by that expression.

That declaration and subsequent collapse, too. Kanan sighs softly. He can just see the tip of a pointed nose beyond the steady rise and fall of a skinny chest, still blotchy and red from his tears.]

I know.

[Of course he does (of course he doesn't, not really, but emotions are so overwhelmingly definite at this age).]

Still, you understand him far better than I. [Does he? But that isn't the point.] Did he think he was helping you by telling you all that?

[He reaches over, gently rubbing one foot in a quiet attempt at soothing and comfort both (I'm still here).]

Perhaps he, too, wanted to be sure you didn't take anything the wrong way.