Settling
down beside his General, Zuru yawned and scratched his nose before
glaring down at the tray of breakfast. “So run by me again what you
meant that our missions are going to change?” He questioned,
glancing tiredly at the other man.

Lifting
the fork to eye the overcooked meat at the end of it, Obi-Wan let out
a low hum. “We have been a seek and destroy unit of two since the
start of the war when I was sworn in on the council though I was
rarely on Coruscant to sit in the damn chair. But with the way the
rest of the council members are behaving I get the feeling those
missions are going to be changed.” Obi-Wan finally put the meat in
his mouth and chewed, grimacing a bit before shrugging.

He
had eaten worse.

Taking
a bite out of the luckily soft bun, Zuru tapped his fingers on the
table. “Which means?”

“Publicly
sanctioned missions, suitable for the common people to know and
understand,” Obi-Wan took a bite of his own bun. “No
more off the grid behavior and murder pretty much so white board
missions. No more black ops.” He shrugged and peered at the pilot.

Huffing
in understanding, Zuru nodded. “I see, this is going to mean we’re
going to be returning to Coruscant more doesn’t it?” He
questioned with distaste. He really did not like Coruscant, all those
politicians everywhere that made faces at the slums of Coruscant
while
pretending they were among the people causing it by not granting
credits in restoration.

And
the war was making it worse he knew, having heard from Senator
Amidala while watching the Senate report holo with Obi-Wan that water
and power regularly went out in the worst districts. He would bet his
hands that there were areas that didn’t have power at all.

“Why
are they changing our missions?” Zuru whined, uncaring who heard.

He
liked the solo missions!

“Because
I’m a broken piece of shit Jedi whose utterly insane and apparently
now the other councilors want to fix me.” Obi-Wan said cheerfully.

Pausing
in grabbing his water, Zuru ogled at Obi-Wan, opening his mouth and
then closing it again while raising his brows, eyes wide.

“They
did not outright say that,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Zuru. “But
that’s the implication. I’m becoming too much so they need to
reign me in and now they want to ‘fix’ me after all the things
they had me do that has driven me forward.” He grunted a bit,
settling his elbows on the table to rest his head on his folded
hands.

Blinking,
Zuru scratched at his nose before shaking his head. “Well okay,
that’s going to be a change in pace at least.” He said weakly,
not sure what else to say.

He
couldn’t exactly argue that his Jedi wasn’t a bit broken or
insane, the latter he told the man regularly after all. But it was
odd to hear it from the man himself and to find that there was
finally consequences for all of the man’s downright suicidal and
traumatizing behavior he put himself through.

He
looked up smiled weakly when he saw Obi-Wan smirking at him. “Well,
they aren’t really wrong. You could do with a bit more socializing
with others.” Zuru said.

“Like
a toddler, in need of social interaction.” Obi-Wan
pointed out dryly before chuckling when Zuru coughed into his arm
crook, the pilot trying to hide his rather obvious grin.

Around
them the others also tried to hide their own laugh.

Honestly?

Obi-Wan
felt more like another vode than a Jedi at this point, his wry sense
of humor and sarcasm making him fit quite well in with how effective
he proved to be.

And
it also helped he seemed to genuinely care for clones.