Padmé's time with refugee relief work as a child and her training while queen and senator had given her a wide range of skills to draw from in their new life, and what she lacked could be sought from the neighboring settlers. She was a quick learner and enjoyed working with her hands, so she had little doubt they would succeed in making this life work. No, what she worried about was the possibility that he might come to resent her for all of this. After all, hadn't Anakin made those terrible choices because of her?

The thought was one that emerged at the darkest moments when grief and despair rolled in like a rising tide, and it was one she refused to share with Obi-Wan. It remained buried in those emotions, other thoughts and musings piled on to drown it out in the hopes that he would never pick up on it through his abilities. She couldn't bear to have that conversation with him. Not yet.

His closeness while she worked didn't bother her in the slightest. On the contrary, she found comfort in his nearness, unconsciously leaning just that bit closer, instinctively seeking further comfort in his company. They were all each other had now, and as guilty as she felt about that at times, she would never send him away.

"Thank you," she murmured, securing the panel in place again before turning to face him, the lack of space between them suddenly becoming even more apparent. But still, she didn't move away, instead staring up at him with eyes that saw perhaps more than he might wish. Lifting a hand to gently touch the back of her fingers to his cheek, she observed, "You look tired, Obi-Wan."