[He hates it. He hates that this kid knows that, has faced that. It makes something twist and knot in Branch's chest.]

[Branch debates whether he should do it, but he decides to slowly lower himself down from the little table, wrapping his hair around the table leg to have something to dangle from as he slowly slides down to the ground. Once his feet gain purchase, his hair withdraws again, back to its shorter length.]

[He walks closer, body language a little hesitant, afraid he's crossing a boundary here. But he wants to reassure and his people are very tactile. Despite his many years alone, he's started to learn to communicate with that part of his people's language again. It's starting to feel more natural.]

[And he has a very strong feeling Lucky has lived a life where he probably hasn't gotten any comfort in a while.]

[He approaches slowly and just gently places a tiny hand on Boba's knee, watching to make sure he doesn't recoil or seem uncomfortable. It is so gentle, Boba will barely feel it. Like the brush of a dandelion.]

[Branch finds himself wishing he could meet his eyes better, at the same height. And reach a human-sized hand to his shoulder.]

I will be. [He withdraws his hand, not wanting to be too pushy.] I know how to hide from big people when things get too dangerous. I've had to know how to do that my whole life.

[He reaches back to tap the handle of the holstered baton.]

And you just made it so I can be even safer.

[His soft impression morphs into a smile.]

Trust me, if I'd had this thing a year ago, I'd have solved a few Bergen-sized problems in half the time.