“Younglings.” Dooku sweeps into the room with all the gravity the situation requires.
He will not be making the mistake of agreeing to a favor without setting some boundaries ahead of time twice.
“Hello Master Dooku.” The little ones greet more or less in time.
One raises an arm high, straining with the effort of it and waving in an unnecessary display.
“Yes, Initiate Unduli?” He prompts.
“Where’s Master Sena?” She tilts her head.
“Your usual art teacher has caught a mild illness, I’m afraid.”
“Oh.” The class deflates as one.
Dooku contains his sigh. It’s one finger painting class, he can handle this.
“Is she okay?” Another child sniffles. “Is she dying?”
“She will be fine.” He said mild illness, didn't he?
“Can we see her?” Initiate Kenobi pipes up, prompting speculating whispers.
“That is a question for your crechemasters.” Dooku is not ashamed of passing off that particular inquiry. “For now, you are in class.”
Many of them nod, sullen.
Dooku does not sigh but it is unfortunately a rather close thing.
“How about this,” he tries, “today’s projects can be done in her honor.”
Honestly, she has a mild headache and a cough.
The younglings perk up in unison, turning and whispering to each other with excitement.
Makashi, he should be teaching Makashi.
Alas, Master Sena does not teach Makashi, she teaches art.
To very small children.
One of the younglings sneezes violently into their open hand.
Alright, well, first things first.
“We should wash our hands before we begin.”
“Awww.” The chorus complains.
Dooku simply raises an eyebrow and waits.
It isn’t long before the first child breaks down and walks over to the sink, the rest begrudgingly follow.
Dooku nods, pleased to see some obedience.
While they clean up Dooku opens the paints, setting them down where he was instructed to and preparing himself.
The children return, near bouncing with excitement.
“Master Dooku! Master Dooku!” They chorus. “What are we making?”
Dooku settles himself on the ground, indicating that they should do the same.
It is incredible how much movement younglings are capable of while supposedly sitting still.
“Hmmm… I’m not sure.” He feigns indecision.
“Can we do flowers?” That’s Initiate Unduli again. “Master Sena likes flowers.”
“Yeah!”
“Very well.” He nods. “You may do flowers.”
“Yes!” Initiate Vos throws his hands up in celebration.
Luckily for Dooku, they don’t require much more instruction. He sets out the supplies and reminds them not to get paint on each other.
From there they get to work.
Dooku walks around slowly to make sure all goes well.
“Master Dooku! Look!”
He turns and examines Initiate Vos’s work.
“Yes, very dynamic colors.” He compliments the bright arrangement and the child beams.
“What about mine?” Another student asks, shy.
“Your technique is inspired.” He says, solemn as any critic.
“Thanks.” They duck their head a little, pleased.
One thing Dooku will say for politicians, they are more forgiving of certain crimes.
“But Master! You said that about Obi-Wan’s flower!”
Specifically, the crime of running out of creative compliments.
“Ah, so I did.” He nods and racks his brain for something. “Of course, your use of lines is lovely. The flower really stands out against the background.”
“Thank you!” Well, at the very least, they are more easily mollified.
He glances at the door and finds his time is up.
“Younglings, it would seem our time together has come to a close.”
“Awww.”
He can’t quite help the small smile and gestures to the sink.
“Go on, your crèchemasters await.”
They obey without much more complaining and he looks down to find a small Initiate tugging on his sleeve.
“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow at little Quinlan Vos.
“Thanks for teaching us, Master Dooku.”
There’s a chorus of agreement from the little group and Dooku nearly smiles again.
“You’re very welcome.”
He sees them off without fuss.
It’s only halfway to his rooms that he finds the bright yellow splash of color on his sleeve.
Dooku sighs and somehow it's fond.
He must be going soft.