Obi-Wan isn't entirely sure how much time passes before he pulls himself into a seated position. Klaus's hand has relaxed in his and Obi-Wan separates their fingers gently, then presses a kiss to Klaus's knuckles before laying his hand upon the blanket at his side.

With his hands upon his knees, sitting cross legged beside Klaus, Obi-Wan seeks out the man who is no longer there. Who hasn't been for a very long time now and yet whose guidance Obi-Wan still craves. Qui-Gon had been the perfect Master for Obi-Wan, rebellious, questioning, deeply clever, and Obi-Wan learns from him even now, recalling lessons he perhaps hadn't quite understood as a Padawan.

When he speaks aloud, he doesn't even realize he's doing so, so deep in his meditative state.

"You always said I would make a good Master, Qui-Gon," he begins, his voice soft, but not unintelligible. "I don't know that I've lived up to your expectations, but I would like to think, if nothing else, I've become a decent teacher. There's a part of me that wishes to pursue this, the art of teaching others, although I find myself floundering when it comes to what I might teach. My qualifications are hardly reflected within the educational system of Darrow."

He pauses, an amused smile touching his lips. "No one even knows of the Jedi Order, Qui-Gon. I think you'd delight in that."