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Obi Wan (benkenobi) wrote in toboldlyrpg,

Ben tilted more than he pivoted as he offered Poe Dameron his hand with the twitch of a smile. This greeting was more muscle memory than sincere, thrown slightly off-kilter from years of disuse. Gone were his days of diplomacy, introductions and strategic flirtations. No one who recognised him in Mos Eisley dared approach, too afraid of the fact Kenobi was somehow still alive to make inquires as to how he’d managed it. No one beyond Yoda, Lars and the Organas knew how responsible he was for the end of all things. How responsible all the Jedi were.

But this man, with eyes the colour of hot summer nights, he knew. Ben could sense it flutter and flash around Poe’s mind as though Dameron had a halo of anxious fireflies around his dark curls.

“Retirement. Yes -- Hello, Poe Dameron. It’s all about time, isn’t it?” He released his hand with a nod and set his elbow on the bar to minimise the space between them. “All your life there’s never enough of it, until suddenly there’s too much with nothing to fill it. I’m sure you’re already feeling it, being here and not where you’re used to.”