He stared at her in confusion. "I guess you really like the quiet types, huh?" She explained, but his astonishment didn't diminish. "Well, the Jedi are powerful group. I guess she would have to be a wonderful woman, plucking an orphan like me off the streets and treating me like I'm her blood." He paused and looked down at the floor, waves of guilt washing over him. "She's been like this since we moved here. In ninety years she'd never left Coruscant, and in a span of two weeks, her husband of seventy years dies, the Empire takes over her home, and I move her out in the middle of nowhere, to a place that couldn't be less like her home if it tried. I didn't want to leave her with the Imperials, she would have told the Emperor himself to shove a lightsaber up his arse. But when I see the alternative, I'm not entirely convinced it was the right choice. She's such a stubborn woman, I'm convinced this is her little rebellion for having to leave."
He remembered fighting with her at the docks. She was still willing to walk then, and she planted her feet to the ground and refused to move. If she was going to die, she was going to die in her home like a normal old woman. He was almost afraid she was going to bolt. Even in her age he might not have been able to catch her his pantpockets filled with pounds of the Wilsea family valuables, and a crying Illuria hanging on his arm. But she was the one who finally convinced his mother to board the starship, so he couldn't exactly complain.
"She was a real champion for children back in the day. She'd probably would have jumped on the next ship out of here and go save your Padawan. And force feed him stew." He smiled at the thought. She thought that every child she came across was too skinny and needed some stew.
"What about you? I know Jedi take initiates young, but do you remember your parents?"