A meal and good conversation

Ahsoka frowned abruptly. “No. I don’t think you can.” You don’t have to be hit by a brick to know that it hurts, but you have to be hit by a brick to understand how it hurts. She picked up her tray, went over to the nearest trash receptacle, and dumped what was left on her plate, then put the washable eating-ware in the bucket provided.

Shane froze, looking properly put in his place, as Ahsoka headed for the trash recepticle. Up until that point, Warp had been the only person he knew who had told him, perhaps in a not-so-polite way, not to ask about such things. He understood what killing was, and he understood not having a family, or too many friends. And now he understood that he didn't know what real war was, and probably never would.

If he could've burned holes in the wall with his stare, he would've. He was frustrated, with himself more than anything else, and he guessed it was more than obvious to anyone else in the room as he followed Ahsoka's example, from a distance and disposed of his trash and place the rest of the items on his tray in the wash bin.

"Sorry." It sounded strange, but he thought it was called for at this point. It felt strange too. Maybe because he didn't think he was sorry.

Ahsoka heard him, and looked over her shoulder. What could she say—It’s okay? It wasn’t. She managed to shrug ruefully, then left the room.

That TEARS it!! Shane willed himself to wait several minutes after Ahsoka left, before even trying to go somewhere without losing it. He needed to expend his energy somewere exploring asteroids was the first thing that came to his mind, but he remembered that he was confined to the ship, so that wouldn't work. Maybe he would just take a walk and try to think about where he wanted to be and not were he was.

Finally leaving the dining area, Shane started wandering the halls of the Nexus, going nowhere, and wanting someone to vent on.