"Still you are so certain the Jedi are perfect examples of light." Kreia's voice spilled out crankier than intended. He'd struck a nerve she thought had numbed long ago, the one that reminded her she'd fought with and against green flames, the very image of goodness. "You misunderstand my meaning," the Disciple said. His hands were gentle as he bandaged her wound. "I simply believe one need not be perfect to be a good person." "Perhaps I was mistaken then," Kreia muttered, "and there is still hope for you." "Exactly," he said brightly. And she thought, You misunderstand my meaning. They were all wonderful, of course. But that was my favorite.