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The Pantoran’s enthusiasm for an otherwise menial task had spruced up his mood.
The growing crowd had been distracting, especially when he had elected himself to be the leader for this rotor. All at once, he had this heavy burden of responsibility weighing down his shoulders, eyes constantly shifting from padawan to knight – trying to keep up with all of the going-ons.
Only the voice of a certain blue-skinned Jedi Knight could snap him out of it. “Can’t say I’ve ever made anything Pantoran,” he said, itching his cheek, memories of home flooding his mind, searching for similarity. “Didn’t see a lot of them back on Lothal.” He shrugged helplessly at the fact. “Well, here you are anyway. I’ll grab the ingre—”
All of a sudden, Vayla had set herself off. It was fascinating. She became a blur of blue, hands pulling out ingredients of all different sizes. Her voice listing each one. There was something so endearing about it. She was excited at even the thought of her home. For that, he could relate.
“Well, run me through the steps, Vayla,” he said, his palms rubbing against each other. He readjusted his apron. “Let’s get this almost-Pandoran seaweed soup going.”
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The Pantoran’s enthusiasm for an otherwise menial task had spruced up his mood.
The growing crowd had been distracting, especially when he had elected himself to be the leader for this rotor. All at once, he had this heavy burden of responsibility weighing down his shoulders, eyes constantly shifting from padawan to knight – trying to keep up with all of the going-ons.
Only the voice of a certain blue-skinned Jedi Knight could snap him out of it. “Can’t say I’ve ever made anything Pantoran,” he said, itching his cheek, memories of home flooding his mind, searching for similarity. “Didn’t see a lot of them back on Lothal.” He shrugged helplessly at the fact. “Well, here you are anyway. I’ll grab the ingre—”
All of a sudden, Vayla had set herself off. It was fascinating. She became a blur of blue, hands pulling out ingredients of all different sizes. Her voice listing each one. There was something so endearing about it. She was excited at even the thought of her home. For that, he could relate.
“Well, run me through the steps, Vayla,” he said, his palms rubbing against each other. He readjusted his apron. “Let’s get this almost-Pandoran seaweed soup going.”
_