Bodhi snorts quietly. "Sounds like it was in your way," he says as he examines his bricks of tea. The spice one is the most depleted by a narrow margin. He already made a rule for himself that he won't horde the stuff, or he'd be afraid to ever touch it. The bricks would sit wrapped and perfect and utterly useless. If this is the last taste he or anyone else will have of Jedha (even if it's imaginary, created by whatever hands send the gifts), he wants those tastes frequent and widespread. He snatches a bit of smoldering wood from the stove for the brazier and snaps off a corner of the tea brick without missing a beat. "Anything exciting while I was gone?"