----

Indeed, Master Dooku was not far wrong when he said that Qui-Gon would be frustrated at this. The boy was, and he almost threw his little comm. device across the room in the process. Rather than destroy his only connection with his mentor, though, Qui-Gon ultimately settled with just pocketing the device (with unnecessary force) and kicking a cushion over onto its side.

Qui was again in the main chamber of Master Syfo-Dias’s apartment. And said Jedi Master was, again, absent, sorting something out with the Council. He had been far from pleased with young Master Jinn when he had returned last night to find no essay and the smashed teacup still in its many pieces on the floor, it has to be said. He had therefore been forced to supervise Qui-Gon as the boy cleared up the mess and wrote a ramshackle essay.

It was fast approaching midday and Qui-Gon had been forbidden to leave the apartment. He had taken this opportunity of solitude to contact his Master, but, displeased with the result, now felt once again alone on all sides. Even his Master was not going to comfort him in his hour of need - did he not know how terrible it was under Syfo-Dias’s wing? Did he have any idea of what he, Qui-Gon, was going through?

After a moment or two of silent venting, Qui collapsed onto a low stool and glared at the wall. Surely he and Master Syfo-Dias would have to be leaving soon on this mission? He hadn’t heard anything more about it since the day it had been mentioned, and was wondering when Dias would finally decide to spring it upon him and give him ten minutes to prepare to leave.

Qui got up off the stool and re-entered his sour-milk room. To be honest, he didn’t care when Master Syfo-Dias told him to get ready, because he was ready - he still hadn’t unpacked his stuff from the moment he had arrived here. There was little in the room to make it seem lived in, except the fact that he hadn’t made his bed and that the floor was littered with the two blank pieces of paper that had meant to have been his original essay, both of which he had been playing noughts and crosses on with himself.

He flung himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t be a good little angel under Syfo-Dias, that was humiliating! How could his Master expect him to be so servile? Yet - though it hurt Qui to admit it - a lot of what his mentor had said was right. But his pride was far too deeply indented for him to admit to this right now.

A thought then sprang to his mind, and it said, ‘What would Master Dooku do in this situation?’ But suddenly, this thought was swept aside by a voice that, in Qui’s head, sounded a lot like Master Dooku himself, and this one said, ‘No, what would Qui-Gon do in this situation?’

Qui licked his lips and thought on this for the rest of the afternoon…

----

It was evening. Qui sat at the table he had fallen asleep by yesterday and watched as, the door swishing open, Master Syfo-Dias returned and plonked a bag full of many unknown things before Qui’s face. Qui-Gon’s brow creased and he looked between the plain white bag and the Jedi Master, silently entreating an explanation.

“It seems, Master Jinn,” Syfo-Dias went on, removing his cloak and hanging it over the back of the opposite chair, before taking a seat, “That you forgot, or have chosen to forget, some of the very first words I said to you not more than 72 hours ago. Shall I enlighten you?”

Qui said nothing, so Master Syfo-Dias pleased himself.

“I asked you,” he went on, removing one boot, “Not to make my life difficult.” He placed this boot on the floor then went on to remove the other, “Yet you seem to have gone out of your way to do so!” He laughed, strangely - Qui wasn’t sure whether it was in spite or disbelief, or something else - and as the final boot hit the floor, Dias then stared at his rival’s Padawan, clasped his hands together upon the table and stared at the boy; “I know that you are upset and unhappy,” he went on in a lower tone, “I don’t need to see your sulking face to realise that.”

Qui blinked - he had a sulky face? He half hoped he had had a mirror nearby in which to look so that he could see what his sulking face was actually like.

Syfo-Dias meanwhile slid the white bag aside so that he had a clearer view of Qui-Gon; “Please, do try to be more careful, Master Jinn. My patience is as thin as yours, and the only reason you have not seen its manifestation in a hundred porcelain fragments of a teacup on the floor is because I know how to control my emotions.” He then sat back and scrutinised the boy for a few moments.

Qui looked back, his brow rising as the moment stretched out. Dias then heaved a sigh, got back to his feet, and -- Well, he had been aiming to just open the bag and give something to Jinn, but he tripped over his boots before he could, and cursed as he stumbled over the floor, almost falling over in the process.

Qui-Gon snorted, but tried frantically to contain his laugh, and, wiping his hand over his mouth, managed to hide his mirth within the next few moments.

“Well, that was a good start,” Dias murmured more to himself than anything; glaring at his boots, he cast them aside with the will of the Force, and, as they thudded into the far wall, he returned to the task at hand and looked into the white bag.

“Our mission is to commence tomorrow, Padawan,” he announced as he rummaged, “I ask you to be prepared for we must depart before six in the morning.”

Qui still didn’t utter a word - he was trying to weigh up Syfo-Dias. The man didn’t seem quite so bad as he had been before, and he wondered if the Jedi Master had received some rebuke from a higher power similar to the one Master Dooku had communicated to him.

Out of the bag came some blue milk and a bread roll of some kind, then Syfo-Dias looked to the boy; “Is there any problem with that, Master Jinn?” he asked.

They made eye contact and, after Qui-Gon had left a brief pause, he then finally replied, “No, sir.”

“Good,” Dias went on, only removing his eyes at the final moment and looking back to the bag, “For the rest of today, thenceforth, you are free to go and cavort with your cohorts. You may as well seeing as you might not see them again for some time.” A quick smile came Qui’s way again, followed by the milk and the bread roll, which were pushed across the table to him in turn, “Now eat up, there’s a good lad.”

The rest of the bag’s contents remained a mystery and disappeared with Syfo-Dias into the kitchen. Qui-Gon looked the blue milk and the bread roll up and down before he decided that they were quite safe to consume, and he ate and drank hungrily - for he was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten properly.

Following this, he took his leave of the Jedi Master and wandered about the halls aimlessly, looking for a cohort with which to cavort. Whatever that meant…