Speaking of a poor sense of fashion... It seems fitting these two would find themselves in common company here and now.
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow reflexively, his eyes still following Maya's hand as she reaches for her boot zipper. It seems to trigger something in him, as if bringing him back to the present, and he promptly turns away, his hand resting flat on his own chest, just atop his robes and just above his heart.
"That's quite all right, my dear," he says without hesitation, but he's silently bemoaning the realization that he's going to have to shed his robes — his entire attire — and he's going to have to do it here in front of everyone gathered. What little shame Kenobi allows himself to feel has always reflected back on himself, and the idea of being so exposed does not sit well with him. Nor does the idea of turning over his only set of clothes.
As he shrugs out of his hooded robe, Kenobi grumbles, "Being naked may be preferable to those wretched uniforms," but he doesn't expect anyone to agree; he's honestly surprised he does.
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Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow reflexively, his eyes still following Maya's hand as she reaches for her boot zipper. It seems to trigger something in him, as if bringing him back to the present, and he promptly turns away, his hand resting flat on his own chest, just atop his robes and just above his heart.
"That's quite all right, my dear," he says without hesitation, but he's silently bemoaning the realization that he's going to have to shed his robes — his entire attire — and he's going to have to do it here in front of everyone gathered. What little shame Kenobi allows himself to feel has always reflected back on himself, and the idea of being so exposed does not sit well with him. Nor does the idea of turning over his only set of clothes.
As he shrugs out of his hooded robe, Kenobi grumbles, "Being naked may be preferable to those wretched uniforms," but he doesn't expect anyone to agree; he's honestly surprised he does.