There is a part of Rex that had never been there before that's always on guard for artifice. He has to, these days, in his line of work. It's a radical swing; the idea that he cannot trust people just because they're should be trustworthy had been a lesson hard learned, and sometimes he feels himself moving too far in the other direction because of it. He still fancies himself a good judge of character when he trusts his gut, though, which is why when Anderson speaks of her capabilities, he feels he ought to believe her instead of thinking she's merely inflating her own ego. To say that she's the best is a bold claim, but it's matter-of-fact, especially now that it doesn't mean anything.

The rest will take time to digest. Rex knows that as she speaks, he's conjuring up an image in his head that can't possibly be accurate. The life she's speaking of is different from anything else he'd ever heard of, somehow even more remote and lonely than the life of a Jedi, even if the basics of it don't sound dissimilar.

"Lucky me," he echoes, watching her kit pile up on the table. It's a good collection. He's terribly jealous. His eyes flick back to her. "You don't have families, but you live with other Judges."

That must make them family, of a sort. Rex can't imagine it any other way.

"Did any of them feel the way you do?"