( @oletherian )
THERE IS LITTLE NOISE as he steps into the room other than the swish of the door & the muted padding of his boots upon the ground. The bacta tank is empty, & the room cavernous. It isn’t exactly cheerful, but it is functional. He glances around, sensing his father’s presence in the Force but not seeing him straight away. There is something that has always made his perception of his father the slightest bit unclear, as though he were trying to glimpse him through the surface of a pond, or perhaps find his outline in the curve of the stars up above. But in a matter of seconds he finds the silhouette of his father on the other side of the room.
He calls a greeting & makes his way over.
“I managed to find a few newsholos,” he explains, standing next to the small slab which juts out of the wall; it serves as a desk & a table. He sets the small datacards down on the corner, watching his father while also carefully monitoring the man’s emotions.
“If you hand me your datapad, I can pull up the latest for you.”












