They were made for the Jedi. That’s the party line, anyway, and Rex says, “Yes, sir” because he was trained by the best, but he doesn’t believe it. And then Knight Kenobi becomes part of the 501st. He wears beskar’gam and headbutts droids and one time he confesses that the last time he fought in a war, he had to leave the Order to do it. Rex still doesn’t believe that he and his brothers were made for the Jedi, but he thinks maybe, this Jedi was made for them. Or, the one where Torrent is Like That, and Cody blames them for all his premature gray hairs.

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.”