He had opened the notepad to a blank page, and had his pencil poised at the ready, the representations of purrgils in captured images swimming to the front of his thoughts, preparing him to recognise them when…
“There…you… are!” He hissed, his words swept away somewhat by the air currents the movements of the purrgils made, once again emerging from the clouds, coming up in the rising and dipping they were programmed by nature to do. Immediately he was putting them down in graphite, just making a quick sketch of this part of the overall pod with enough detail to discern what the picture was of, and that he could refine to greater detail with this fresh memory he was now making, and for as long as they would remain in his field of view.
So fixed on his task was Toby, that he almost didn’t notice when the other padawans came back around to him, trailing a couple more along with them, only catching the end of her ask, but enough that he could infer the rest. Mind, he was a touch dumbstruck as he turned to the source of the voice, when the first face he saw was the almost auburn-haired girl he’d appeared to have
just scared off. His blue eyes flicked to Loomi, peeking over the girl’s shoulder, then in the periphery, he saw another girl with chin-length, soft looking brown hair embroiled in her excitement over the purrgils...
"I think that one is a girl!"
...just as another guy approached her, cutting in before Toby could even begin to summon an answer himself, but strangely enough... the Corellian couldn't bring himself to, anyway.
"I also have snacks, if you'd like some?"
Toby’s head and eyes snapped back to the girl, his eyes widening nigh-imperceptibly at the colourful orbs looking back at him -
[ what the… ] - but the surprise was in passing as he slowly set his notepad in his lap and his focus fully clicked over, the tumult of his recently provoked self-doubt clawing at him, doing a fair job of cautioning him as he searched for what to say. Toby swallowed, suddenly a bit nervous.
“Ah…” he blinked a few times, trying on a smile that didn’t quite want to stick, then held out his pencil hand, palm up, in a gesture to the blank span of the bench alongside him,
“...please!” Then finally that unsure smile coalesced into place, and he looked to his Godoan friend again,
“Hey, Loomi.”
And a rueful greeting, it was. Toby glanced down at his unfinished drawing, then back to the others as they settled in. His nerves prompted him to speak, while his doubt tried to restrain him into letting someone else take the lead. His nerves won out rather quickly.
“So, ah… how’s…” He grabbed onto the feeling of how it felt when his father would ask this same question, and encourage his progress when he was a kid, letting the security of it push him onward,
“...how are your drawings coming along?”
A careful, perhaps hopeful query. Trying again.