He pads along in her wake, fascinated and uncomfortable by turns: being barefoot feels ridiculously vulnerable. But the warm sand between his toes and even the cool, damp sand barely giving under foot, is like nothing he's ever felt before.

"Amazing," he answers, and he can't help grinning at her, quick and bright in a way that smooths out the harsh lines of his face and wipes away years from his appearance, making him look almost boyish. "Is the ocean always like this where you're from?"

He's breathing deep, starting to find all the ways to differentiate the warm salt air here from the overpowering stink of the sea outside the domes on Kamino. Everything about this place is gentler, milder, the scent of sun-warmed plant life mingling with the smell of the ocean in a way that he could never mistake for the cold, sterile inhospitability of his putative home world.