For Padmé, the silence was comforting. There weren't many she could simply spend time with that she didn't feel the need to maintain conversation. However, as the seconds passed by, and Obi-Wan finally spoke, she realized that she, too, wasn't quite certain what to say.
"Are you from long after, then?" she heard herself ask, sounding relatively at ease about discussing her own demise. Padmé glanced at him, studying his profile for a heartbeat. Her brow was furrowed a bit, feeling sorrow for the fact that she'd clearly caused him pain with her death.
It was surreal, really, to think about it. She remembered dying. She remembered there being nothing for the briefest of instants. Then, she found herself here. On that no-name street, wearing nothing but the birthing gown she'd worn while having her children.