The Junkyard, Late Monday Afternoon
Tahiri didn't get a chance to visit Fandom as often as she liked. Some days, when life among the colonists on Zonama Sekot got too contentious, she wished she could just book a portal and head out for a few days, but her sense of duty was too strong for her to ever really give in to the impulse. Not today, though; the pull she felt in the Force was too strong to ignore. The second her express portal to Fandom let her out at the end of the causeway she felt a familiar -- despite having been absent from her life for six years -- presence in the Force burning with urgency, and every nerve ending in her body turned to ice when she realized: she knew exactly what had brought her here.
It was still second nature -- it wasn't fair that it was still second nature, but there it was, and she followed that Force presence, the one that resonated with hers in a way no one else's ever would, to the junkyard.
She watched silently for a moment as Anakin, tousled dark hair and purposeful movements all exactly as she remembered, finished getting Fiver seated in the astromech socket and going over his preflight check, then cleared her throat.
"Hi."
It was still second nature -- it wasn't fair that it was still second nature, but there it was, and she followed that Force presence, the one that resonated with hers in a way no one else's ever would, to the junkyard.
She watched silently for a moment as Anakin, tousled dark hair and purposeful movements all exactly as she remembered, finished getting Fiver seated in the astromech socket and going over his preflight check, then cleared her throat.
"Hi."