His new padawan is driving him crazy, and if it weren't for the promise he made to his recently deceased Master, he'd be tempted to do something permanent about it.
He's not sure if it's the age or the boy's personality (or some unholy combination of the two) but Anakin Skywalker can not seem to remain still (or quiet) for a single moment. In a perverse way, he is glad that they probably won't be cleared for missions for a couple of years - if this keeps up, the boy is going to get them both killed; a friendly fire accident just begging to happen. Half the time he's in some hapless stranger's face, asking questions a mile a minute, and the other half he's bouncing back and forth like a sugar-high youngling on his first field trip.
"There's a -" Anakin exclaims, then and hares off around the corner before sling-shotting back, bearing fragments of the conversation with him. " – ancillary servos," he finishes, apropos of nothing. He meets Obi-wan's politely confused gaze. "Master, the . . . thing; it's in the - " and then he is gone again.
The trick is listening with half an ear. Anakin mostly just talks to clarify his own thought process, which Obi-wan has found both devastatingly direct and impossibly convoluted in it's logic.
His padawan will certainly never be an ambassador and, after the spectacular disaster that was last week's lecture on political theory, he is hesitant to even allow him anywhere near a bona-fide politician. But, in spite of this relatively small failing and his extraordinary talent for getting on everyone's nerves, Obi-wan has come to believe that Anakin Skywalker has to potential to one day be a great jedi - perhaps even the best.
Then his thoughts are interrupted by the clatter of falling droid parts proceeded by the heavy thump, clank, and smash of something undoubtedly valuable (and apparently fragile) shattering into a thousand smithereens.
Hmm. Make that an exceedingly large perhaps.
He's back. "- like sticky buns," he finishes sheepishly.