In some ways Leia could understand the desire; droids were droids, after all and couldn't replace human contact. Though she honestly found certain higher-level droids to have more personality than some people she'd known over the years, especially the portion of those years spent in politics. R2, for all his limited vocal capabilities, still always managed to make his feelings on matters known with or without 3P0's help, and Poe's little BB unit looked to be following in his metaphorical footsteps.
"It wouldn't have worked," she said. "I tried it a few years later, once I'd managed to slice the lock on the storeroom where the gardeners kept their tools; the wall extended too far underground. And yes, I'm sure my aunts would have been thoroughly scandalized by my choice. Though I think my parents would've been able to bring them around eventually."
The light mood vanished suddenly though, as if a cloud had moved across the sun. She picked up on Ben's distress even before he'd started speaking, and on the tears he was trying to hold back as he spoke. The Force, simple maternal instinct, or a combination thereof, she couldn't be sure, and frankly didn't much care. All that mattered right now was her son. Her son who was suffering, and who she was finally able to help through that suffering after so long.
"Ben," she said, "I hope you know that there's no set time for you to be 'back on track' by. And if Luke or anyone else has tried to set you a timetable for your recovery, you tell me and I'll have words with them." Likely of the unprintable variety, at least partially. "One thing I've learned over the years is that recovery is a different process for everyone, and anybody who tries to shame you for not meeting some arbitrary standard of progress, emotionally or with the Force, will damn well answer to me for it." She remembered all too well being accused of being unfeeling because she hadn't broken down into some sort of hysterics following Alderaan's destruction, and would be damned if she let others try to force such arbitrary emotional standards on her son.
The rest of it though, was worrying, if only because of Ben's mental state. She'd heard of the technique, and under the right circumstances didn't doubt that it could be useful. But she highly doubted that being traumatized and somewhat desperate were those circumstances. At what point did an extreme form of meditation become a method of punishing oneself, either for past wrongs or a perceived lack of progress?
She got to her feet, her hand never leaving Ben's as she moved to stand in front of him. "I'll talk to Rey," she said gently. "If she's worried about the food going to waste, we can arrange something. But that's not what concerns me." She paused. "Ben, how often have you been doing this? And how long a period have you been going without food for?"
Appropriate song is appropriate. And also FEELS. ;_;
"It wouldn't have worked," she said. "I tried it a few years later, once I'd managed to slice the lock on the storeroom where the gardeners kept their tools; the wall extended too far underground. And yes, I'm sure my aunts would have been thoroughly scandalized by my choice. Though I think my parents would've been able to bring them around eventually."
The light mood vanished suddenly though, as if a cloud had moved across the sun. She picked up on Ben's distress even before he'd started speaking, and on the tears he was trying to hold back as he spoke. The Force, simple maternal instinct, or a combination thereof, she couldn't be sure, and frankly didn't much care. All that mattered right now was her son. Her son who was suffering, and who she was finally able to help through that suffering after so long.
"Ben," she said, "I hope you know that there's no set time for you to be 'back on track' by. And if Luke or anyone else has tried to set you a timetable for your recovery, you tell me and I'll have words with them." Likely of the unprintable variety, at least partially. "One thing I've learned over the years is that recovery is a different process for everyone, and anybody who tries to shame you for not meeting some arbitrary standard of progress, emotionally or with the Force, will damn well answer to me for it." She remembered all too well being accused of being unfeeling because she hadn't broken down into some sort of hysterics following Alderaan's destruction, and would be damned if she let others try to force such arbitrary emotional standards on her son.
The rest of it though, was worrying, if only because of Ben's mental state. She'd heard of the technique, and under the right circumstances didn't doubt that it could be useful. But she highly doubted that being traumatized and somewhat desperate were those circumstances. At what point did an extreme form of meditation become a method of punishing oneself, either for past wrongs or a perceived lack of progress?
She got to her feet, her hand never leaving Ben's as she moved to stand in front of him. "I'll talk to Rey," she said gently. "If she's worried about the food going to waste, we can arrange something. But that's not what concerns me." She paused. "Ben, how often have you been doing this? And how long a period have you been going without food for?"