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He strode down the hall towards his padawan’s quarters. As he approached, he could make out the distinctive sound of plucked strings. He knocked, and the music stopped, the last note fading.
His padawan poked their head out. “Oh, hello, Master!”
“We have an assignment,” he informed them.
Their eyes lit up at the promise of a mission. Still young, they hoped for excitement, like most fresh padawans did. When they were older, he was sure, they’d come to prefer the boring assignments.
“It seems you have a hobby,” he said, after he’d satisfied their curiosity on their assignment.
They nodded. “Do you play any instruments, Master? Maybe you could teach me a new song or two?”
“Oh, no, I’m quite hopeless at it,” he said. “Always have been.”
His padawan crossed their arms and gave him a pointed look. “If you give up before you even begin, of course you’ll fail. You taught me that, Master. Many times.”
“That I did,” he admitted. “I suppose we all forget our lessons sometimes, even us masters. We teach so we can learn, ourselves. Perhaps I can meet you tomorrow morning before we ship out, and you can teach me your instrument.”