Sometime in the afternoon, Ezra aims his path to take him to the older Jedi's house. It could just be any other day, with nothing more on Ezra's mind than his next Jedi lesson, except this time the teen has something in his pocket and something like nervous energy in his steps that makes a few pebbles rise up an inch or two off the ground before they drop behind him. Which, you know, could be a problem, if he shows up with a significant tell like that.

So before Ezra knocks, he takes a moment to compose himself. Calm, a Jedi is calm. He breathes in deeply, then breathes out, runs a hand through his growing, shaggy hair. Almost long enough to tie it back now, not counting the little tuft he's already got bound behind his ear.

Once he's ready (and once the pebbles are all lying still), he raps politely on the front door.