well, actually...

His mouth resolved into a frown, and he turned away, padding over to a window to peer over the vast cityscape, an ecumenopolis that billions called home. It was hard not to feel selfish, and guilty for it in the face of that fact. What was he even doing, fretting over that which breathed no air, and felt nothing, with so many lives at stake? What could he even do, in either case?
Toby dropped his forehead against the pane of transparisteel, followed by a hand splayed against that same cool window, overrun by the hard feel of these two things that tugged at his feelings and conscience. The Masters at The Saber had explained to him soberly that this path would be difficult when he was simply an older child, a curious seeker, but difficulty and challenge were never things the teen had shied away from. They had followed that up in tandem with another undeniable fact: this was a path he would not be walking alone.
Then, as if on cue, his comm started to jitter a pattern of vibrations in a pocket of his trousers just as he released a heavy sigh. The young Corellian lifted his head from the window and glanced down towards his hand as it emerged from the pocket, not yet cued enough to the quirks of the Force to see the timing as anything other than coincidence. Toby blinked, his eyes going wide upon seeing the contents of the name display; he was quick to straighten himself out and shuffle himself out of the quiet sanctuary of the Archives before he answered the call.
He brought the device to his ear as he continued to walk, putting further distance between himself and that silent domain. “Oh, ah, Master Westgard--” he cleared his throat, “--uh, hi! Sorry, had to get out of the Archives before I answered,” that was self-explanatory; he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit awkward with his thoughts and heart still very much mired in the troubles of the present, “what, ah, what’s up?”