[ Maybe it's the alcohol working its magic, but the sting isn't quite so strong when he thinks about it — about Maul's revenge, about his inability to save Satine, about his weakness in the wake of it. It's still debilitating, like a hot pain in his chest that curls his shoulders and tightens his posture. ]

As am I. [ He regards his glass, mouth twisted into a bitter little smile. ] Unfortunately, regret isn't quite as frowned upon as attachment.

[ Kenobi takes another drink and very nearly drains his glass again. There's a miserable hesitance and his shoulders slump that much more. Perhaps he's finally settling in. At least not feeling the urge to run anymore. ]

Moira has seen fit to return her. Most vital and... difficult. I've had no small amount of trouble coming to terms with this fact.