sithkabobed | IC CONTACT

One day Rey will learn that if there's anyone who needs to be questioned consistently, it's Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. It won't do much good, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a good habit to get into.

The quick nod of his head does enough to showcase Qui-Gon's approval of Rey's abilities. It's a skill that most Initiates in the Jedi Temple have studied and, by the time they were Padawans Rey's age, have also mastered. However, much like Ezra, Rey comes from extraordinary circumstances. Qui-Gon can't and won't ever hold against her.

But that leaves the question as to where and who she's learning these techniques from. It's not impossible for someone to be self-taught and have that kind of finesse, especially when they're as inherently talented as she is, but her defensiveness spoke wonders all on its own. Whoever is mentoring her wouldn't be met with approval from Qui-Gon, or, by extension thanks to being the only other available Jedi Master, Obi-Wan. The list of potential individuals is almost comically short, but Qui-Gon remains mum. Even if he's tip-toeing around the truth, it's far more important that Rey fesses up to it herself. That she trusts him enough to do so.

"Very good."

He pauses to acknowledge that glimpse of satisfaction on Rey's face with a small smile.

"You have remarkable speed and accuracy. I'd recommend working on your control next. Try lifting objects and holding them steady before calling them to your hand. A balancing exercise would make for good practice, too."

There's a small yet unexpected part of Rey that balks at Qui-Gon's instruction. With any other topic, his input might be helpful, but this? This she finds herself unwilling to share. Maybe it's her own pride that demands it be purely her own hard work when she goes back to show Kylo her progress. Maybe she's protective of this one thing since it would be impractical and foolish to agree to more lessons with him after her original request is granted. Maybe, stupidly, she actually likes his teaching.

"Yeah. I'm working on it."

It comes out slightly more defensive than she was hoping, but with an luck he'll take it as her being touchy about her skills. Which... she is, so it's not inaccurate. And also not inconsistent with how she's reacted to Qui-Gon's suggestions in the past. Certainly one of her more believable half-truths. And just to be safe, Rey jumps on the first opportunity to move on that she can spot, glancing up at Qui-Gon briefly to see what sort of entirely unhelpful expression he's wearing this time.

"What's a balancing exercise?"

Qui-Gon pauses before responding, eyebrows arched as he catches that hint of defensiveness. Regardless of where it's stemming from, that's the kind of reaction that would earn a stern talking to in a traditional setting. On the other hand, ten points for catching this particular expression.

"It's an exercise that pushes the practitioner to divide their focus between many different objects at once," he finally replies as he gestures to the rock in Rey's hand.

He then turns his serene gaze to the yard as a whole, his posture still relaxed and casual.

"Like so."

Qui-Gon's eyes flutter shut and he breathes deeply through his nose. The Force flows around him as he focuses on everything around him, living and otherwise. Then, as if he were simply picking them up and stacking them by hand, Qui-Gon piles a bunch of stones and dried twigs into a small column that, by all accounts of the laws of physics, shouldn't be able to stand on its uneven edges and weight distribution.

His eyes open and he turns to face Rey once more with an unhelpful, but also unprovocative, neutrality.

Rey's almost expecting a stern talking to, or at least the pointed quips that sometimes pass as lectures from Qui-Gon. But then he lets it slide again, and again she decides not to question it too hard. If Qui-Gon has decided not to confront her about things today, then who is she to argue?

The "balancing exercise" is admittedly cool, but it also drains away the rest of Rey's previous enthusiasm. The Jedi has taken it upon himself to remind her of how comically far behind she is, apparently, and her accomplishment seems childish and simple now. She can't even look at the rock gripped tightly in her hand, eyes stuck on that column of rocks and sticks balanced in a way that she knows must mean Qui-Gon is using the Force just to keep it upright.

"I'll keep it in mind," she replies stiffly, expression shifting through several different versions of envious, resentful, impressed, and dismayed without ever settling on one particular emotion.

"Is that all you wanted?"

Her voice sounds more blunt and rude than she anticipated, but at least there won't be any question that he's touched a nerve. Who knows, maybe his non-confrontational streak will continue, and he'll leave her alone.

"No, it isn't."

Qui-Gon is used to dealing with rude and meeting it with unwavering calm, and that's exactly what he does here with Rey. The pile of sticks and stones slowly slides apart, landing with a series of thumps against the soft grass without any attention paid to technique.

It isn't hard to tell that Rey hasn't taken Qui-Gon's display the way he'd wished. Rather than seeing it as a glimpse into what she can accomplish in the very near future, Rey seems to have taken it as a challenge, or as a means to quash whatever progress she's made (with or without a mentor). He doesn't need to peek into her mind to understand that much. He'd have to approach bruising her pride with a conservative touch. Fluffing up her ego would only prove insulting, and pushing her down would only further distance her.

"Would you like to try your hand at the exercise?"

It's not a challenge per se, but more of an invitation to show off her skill. To show what she's capable of.

"You've already seen the best I can do!" she snaps, frowning up at Qui-Gon with something much closer to frustration than anger. She gestures sharply with the rock in her hand, just in case there's any question about what she means by "her best."

"Don't act like you think I can do that. We both know I can't."

To be fair, moving so many things isn't something Rey has attempted before. She has no idea if she'd be able to do it. But with her defensiveness already high and her pride freshly wounded, she's in no mood to try anything for the first time in front of a Jedi and potentially humiliate herself even more than she already has. Qui-Gon doesn't know he's being cruel, she's sure, but that almost makes it worse. That just means he doesn't get it.

"I would never ask you to do something I didn't think you could do," Qui-Gon responds quietly, the creases around his eyes deepening as he holds his composure.

In turn, he points to the rock in Rey's hand--slowly, as if making a vague gesture--but doesn't break his gaze away from hers. She's wounded, yes, but that doesn't mean he's going to go easy on her. His neutrality is only meant to keep the frustration from feeding on itself in an endless loop, not to coddle the young woman in front of her.

"And you would do well not to put words in my mouth. Only one of us seems to believe this is the best you can do, and I assure you it is not me."

Qui-Gon pauses and folds his arms into his sleeves.

"That being said, I'm willing to bet you could balance at least one of those rocks on top of another."

The wary look in Rey's eyes should communicate well enough that she's not entirely convinced. Qui-Gon is... well, she has a hard time reading him at the best of times, and more often than not he's an inscrutable wall. On rare occasion, like now, a layer of secrecy get sloughed off—or at least she thinks it does‐but that does little to help when he seems to have spent the majority of his life crafting a thousand more layers of mystery underneath. He does appear to be speaking more honestly now, which she appreciates, but she still has no desire to embarrass herself, especially when she never even requested this lesson. Not from Qui-Gon, anyway. And he clearly knows she was lying about getting help, so why—

Oh. Maybe that's why he's so insistent. If he knows she's gotten lessons, he can probably figure out who's been giving them. Suddenly, Rey's much more annoyed that he let that whole topic slide. Is he trying to pull her away from getting Kylo's help... without ever mentioning Kylo?

"Maybe," Rey replies simply, narrowing her eyes in a calculating stare.

"Promise me you won't tell Obi-Wan, and I'll try it."

"Promise me you'll do it, and we have a deal."

The whole 'Do or do not, there is no try' mantra can take a backseat for now. Not that there isn't wisdom in Master Yoda's sayings, but sometimes they needed a rest, especially when Qui-Gon is fairly certain it would only come across as a hollow retort.

"You'll have my word that I won't tell Obi-Wan," he reiterates, "but I want to see you succeed."

He doesn't like the idea of keeping secrets from his former Padawan, but it's a necessary deception to gain Rey's trust. Further, he's done the same for Obi-Wan in the past. It'd be hypocritical for him not to extend the same consideration to Rey.

Edited 2017-06-25 23:46 (UTC)

Honestly? Rey half didn't expect Qui-Gon to actually go for it. Or at least not to answer so plainly. He didn't even hesitate, which seems odd. And yet, more odd than that, Rey finds that she does believe him.

Maybe it shouldn't seem strange. Qui-Gon does appear to be, after all, the result of stuffing a giant pile of secrets into a robe. What's one to add to the pile? If Rey has trouble getting straight answers from him, she can't imagine others have much more luck. Her secret is safe, if only by the Jedi's overall enigmatic nature.

She eyes him skeptically, taking a bit longer to respond than she actually needs to deliberate. She doesn't want him thinking she'll just jump into believing him about everything every time, after all. That would almost certainly backfire at some point. Plus, there's still a chance there's a catch to this deal somewhere, considering how unequal the terms are currently, and she's not about to let Qui-Gon sneak anything past her.

"Just one rock. That's all I have to move."

She speaks slowly and carefully, as if haggling a price with a particularly shady business partner. The metaphor isn't... entirely inaccurate.

"Just one," Qui-Gon confirms, his tone returning to its usual chill.

He doesn't take offense to the skeptical glances or the blatant mistrust Rey's treating his words with. When your reputation is surrounded by mystery and the occasional double-talk, such things are to be expected. To his credit, however, Qui-Gon's being entirely honest with her: he won't breathe a word about what's happened today to Obi-Wan, or about Rey's training with Kylo Ren.

Her misgivings surrounding how he led the conversation, however, are entirely warranted.

Qui-Gon takes a couple of steps back, giving Rey both the literal and metaphorical room she needs to work her space magic.

Edited 2017-06-26 21:37 (UTC)

Rey isn't sure if it's better or worse that Qui-Gon doesn't seem offended by her obvious distrust. On one hand, he isn't trying to justify himself or going overboard with attempts to convince her he's trustworthy, which would be suspicious. But on the other hand, he seems to have no problem with her wariness, almost like he anticipates it. Which is also questionable.

But ultimately she decides there can't be any harm in trying this one thing... and then afterward she'll deal with what sort of trick the Jedi has up his sleeves. He's already agreed to just one rock, so if she actually succeeds, at least he can't start adding more to their bargain.

Rey opens her hand, letting go of her physical grip on the rock she's been holding while grasping it again with the Force. Qui-Gon probably meant for her to use one of the stones he left in a pile, but if so then it's his own fault for not specifying. She knows she can move this one, so she's using it. So there. Counter to Qui-Gon's demonstration, Rey keeps her eyes open to watch the rock follow where her hand guides it, and her brow is heavily furrowed in concentration. But getting it over to the pile the Jedi made was never really the hardest part of this, though it's still certainly a challenge to keep the dumb thing from shooting toward or away from her. No, no, the most difficult part is doing his stupid balancing trick. Dumb Jedi parlor tricks. Stupid Jedi tricking-her-into-training-again rubbish. Nonetheless, after a fair amount of frowning and scrunching up her nose in a near-snarl, the rock does eventually perch on its corner on top of another and stays for two whole seconds before toppling over.

As infuriatingly shady as Qui-Gon could be, he's never gone back on his word. It's what separates him from the underground dealers he's so frequently worked with and against. Such is the perilous life of a Jedi.

He takes a few moments to himself, hand stroking his bearded chin in thought as he analyzes the sad rock pile. He's already made his judgment—the moment the stone toppled over, in fact—but there's a certain joy in making a student sweat just a little bit. Not that he expects to faze Rey easily, but old habits die hard.

"Not bad," he concludes, "I look forward to seeing your progress."

Rey, on the other hand, is much less pleased. She isn't sure if Qui-Gon could tell—he probably could, knowing him—why the rock fell, that she didn't let go of it intentionally. She simply couldn't hold onto it. Rey's going to blame lack of concentration due to being watched by a certain nosy old Jedi. A nosy Jedi who's made himself an excellent outlet for her frustration.

"I knew there'd be a catch," she snaps, turning her irritated frown from the rock pile to Qui-Gon. She folds her arms, tilting her chin up proudly. She knows what you're up to, old man! ~~Probably.~~

"Progress reports. In exchange for not telling Obi-Wan. Is that it?"

"No," Qui-Gon replies evenly, "Progress reports in exchange for advice on how you can improve even further."

Rocks of all shapes and sizes fall completely to the wayside as Qui-Gon leans forward, arms folded neatly in his sleeves, as he addresses Rey face-to-face in a way that comes across as literal and aggravating as humanly possible. He gives Rey some due space, but the respect stops there.

"Unless you're proposing new terms to our deal?"

If "infuriating" is Qui-Gon's goal, then he's succeeding handily. It's only the fact that he doesn't seem actually malicious that keeps Rey from knocking him in the jaw or headbutting him in his smug face. Qui-Gon is harmless, she's sure. Obi-Wan wouldn't trust him if he wasn't. He's just prone to all manner of extraordinarily irritating mischief. It'd almost be better if he was being cruel. Hitting is much simpler than trying to work with this nonsense.

Rey draws herself up as much as she can and squares her shoulders, stubbornly refusing to be baited by his taunt. (Though, in the process of being so insistent about not taking his bait, she is of course, in a way, taking his bait. But shhhh!) In fact, she's going to entirely ignore said taunt. Because that's how little she cares about it!!

"I don't need advice, thanks. I've got someone for that."

Hitting maybe be simpler, but the consequences thereof (and life in general) are not. Qui-Gon sees that as unfortunate as Rey does, believe it or not. That doesn't stop him from reaping the benefits of providing the nonsense, though.

"Fair enough," Qui-Gon concedes as he draws himself back up to his full height, his need to be annoying appropriately satiated, "However, if you find this 'someone' unsatisfactory, or if you feel they aren't showing you enough, you know where you can find me."

He tilts his head towards the pile of rocks.

"That is only the beginning, after all."

Rey crinkles her nose at Qui-Gon with a smug sniff, clearly deeming herself the victor in this encounter. Nevermind the fact that it's more of a dignified retreat on his part. But really, that's about as close to victory as she's ever gotten with Qui-Gon, so she'll take it.

"He shows me what I've asked to be shown," she replies sharply, too preoccupied with getting in that last jab at the Jedi to realize she's said he. Oh well, at least Qui-Gon already knows who's giving her advice. She'll be annoyed about the unintentional pronoun later. Right about the time she starts getting annoyed about having to actually defend Kylo Ren's capability as a teacher.

"That's satisfactory enough for me."

"You cannot ask for what you do not know," Qui-Gon reminds Rey.

The balance exercise, although commonplace in the Temple, is only one of many different regimens the Initiates have to undergo as part of their training. Granted, this is no ordinary apprenticeship (if Rey could even be seen as a 'proper' apprentice), but his point still stands.

Rey can never expand her horizons without opening herself--not to the individuals she's sought help from thus far, but to the necessary vulnerability and humility it takes to ask about their knowledge.

Rey opens her mouth to retort... and then closes it, glaring sullenly at Qui-Gon. What could she possibly say to that? She can't tell him he's wrong. He's not wrong. Even with Kylo, she doesn't really know specifically what he'll show her next time they meet. For all she knows it'll be these stupid "balancing exercises."

She can't ask for what she doesn't know. And that's the whole problem, isn't it? There's so, so much she doesn't know. Rey's jaw tightens, all the victory melting out of her posture as she withdraws into something more defensive.

"Yeah. Well—" she starts, struggling for a comeback before she spits out the first thing that comes to her head.

"Maybe I don't like to be reminded every day of how much I don't know. Did you ever think of that? Maybe some days I get tired of it!"

"No, I did not."

Enjoy that extra dose of honesty, Rey. Qui-Gon may be as shadier than a Hutt, but at least he doesn't lie. Much.

"I apologize for my hand in making you feel that way. I should have paid more attention and practiced restraint."

Despite the words he picked, Qui-Gon's apology is anything but trite. With the way his brow furrows just slightly and his insistence on keeping eye contact with Rey, it's apparent that he means every single word. He's caused her pain, however unwittingly, and it's a wrong that needs to be set right.

The instant Qui-Gon replies, Rey realizes she's said too much. Because he actually seems sincere, and that's even harder to deal with than when he's being cryptic. At least cryptic she's used to. Cryptic she can respond to. She doesn't know how to handle this.

Maintaining eye contact leaves her feeling too vulnerable, so she breaks it, looking down and away and any other direction than at the Jedi while she tries to figure out what to say.

"It isn't exactly easy living with Jedi, you know," she starts, frustration still obvious in her voice but with much less anger.

"You do these things so easily—children do them—and I can't. Everyone can do more, everyone knows more. And you all just... take it for granted." She pauses, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"At least I can hit Kylo when he makes me feel like a fool."

"You're right," Qui-Gon concedes, the usual calm present in his tone taking on the softer edge of empathy, although not of pity, thankfully. "And nobody should be making you feel like a fool for something out of your control. Seeing as I've done the same, you again have my sincere apology."

No free pass to hit him though, Rey, sorry.

"Is that why you were hesitant to ask one of us for help in your Force training?"

It's a question born out of simple curiosity and nothing more. There's no hint of accusation or judgment, just a wish to know and understand Rey a little bit better–or at least however much she's willing to share.

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