“You have a choice,” Cody begins. “I don’t want any of you to think that you don’t. If you want no part of this, all you have to do is say so. But if I know any of you half as well as I think I do, this choice won’t be particularly hard to make.” He takes a deep breath and counts his heartbeats against the reverent silence of the mess hall. “We may belong to the Republic, but we were made for the Jetti.” And thus, the 212th Attack Battalion abducts their General. (It's for his own health, really.)

It all comes down to this: the babies in his arms are just so little. “You should sit down, Sir. Let Waxer and I take the tubies for a minute,” Cody gentles. Despite the even, easy tone, despite knowing that it’s Cody and that, as the last twenty-four hours have successfully proved beyond a doubt, Cody would rather die than see any harm come to him, Obi-Wan can’t suppress his immediate reaction to the thought of putting the twins— his twins, his now, and he’ll die before he lets anything touch them—down. “Full disclosure, I don’t believe I am capable of letting go of them, at the moment.” He thinks for a beat and then adds, “Possibly ever.”