Dasas Tadii is slightly restless and moderately bored.
He had tried to meditate to calm himself, but the thrum of so many minds had made it difficult enough that he quickly gave up on the idea. He can be patient a little while longer.
The cafe he usually waits in for Red is still closed, so early in the morning; why Red would want to talk to the Senators at this hour is beyond him. Regardless, he’d promised that he’d be there each time, and so here he is.
(Perhaps he ought to start bringing some books with him? It would give him something to do, at least.)
Eventually the constant press of harried minds that is the Senate, at any level but especially the highest and lowest, becomes too much and he retreats to a quieter corner, sighing softly in relief as the relentless buzz of others eases.
There is a reason Dasas prefers small groups of close friends to large crowds; Nautolani, particularly Force-sensitive Nautolani, are intensely aware of most beings around them.
With the relative quiet, he closes his eyes, letting the rigid mental shields he keeps ease some, giving his mind a break from the constant guard.