“Sit.” Qui-Gon motions to a chair with a quick, commanding dip of his head. His voice falls short of sounding harsh, and he fights to keep it level, but it still pushes the boundaries of taking on a steely edge.

But that’s not how he wants this conversation to begin, and Qui-Gon allows himself a few moments of self-reflection and correction. He needs the outcome to be constructive in nature, both in regards to addressing the actions Ezra had taken and ensuring that his own actions don’t damage their newly established familial bond. When he speaks again, it’s with a softer affect, as if an apology is weaved into the tone itself.

“I spoke with a few of the merchants today about an incident from a couple of weeks ago. Something about a confrontation, two eopies, and quite a bit of yelling.”

He keeps his arms folded as he shifts his stance.

“I was wondering if you had any information on the matter. Or if there was anything you wanted to tell me.”