Captain Rex crosses his arms, the arm plates clanging against his chest armour. The past couple of weeks have been rough, to say the least. What was originally intended to be an inherently rough mission, under the stark commandment of General Pong Krell, has evolved into a massacre. A threat not only to the Jedi Order and to the Republic, but to the Clone Army itself that had flown right under everyone’s noses.

He watches the padawan, as they sit on a crate, hands clutching their lightsaber as it lies on their lap. They bite their lip, their otherwise excitement-filled eyes are glued to the dusty floor. Rex knows that expression; the ghost of guilt. His brothers, too, have worn that face after failed missions.

The captain himself feels his fair share of guilt for what happened. His brothers had not been killed by some beastly monster that lurked in the planet; no, they had, under Krell’s deceiving voice, killed one another. Hardcase had sacrificed himself, and Fives and Jesse now await their trial for the assassination of said general.

Rex starts moving towards the kid, still not sure why. Perhaps it's the same brotherly protectiveness the feels towards his men, except this time it is bigger, as if you were a younger sibling, a vod-ika. He holds his helmet in his hands, wanting to seem more approachable.

“Kid. Don’t do this; close yourself up like this, don’t blame yourself.” Easier said than done, and he knows it. Pong Krell was your Jedi master, after all. “You know, the boys and I always appreciated how you tried to get him to call us by our names, even if it didn’t work,” Rex nudges at your side with his arm, taking a seat next to you.