[Anakin wouldn't describe himself as a guarded or taciturn person, but he knows that the last few years of shouting over blaster fire and reading casualty reports have changed him. They've changed everyone, some more obvious than others. But it's more than just grim resolution; Anakin has found a kind of understanding and fraternity among the Clone Soldiers that he hasn't had among the Jedi. A willingness to be in the moment instead of examining each and every new person, place, thing from as many angles as possible.

As far as he's concerned, this man has asked for help and Anakin is able to provide it: no interrogation required. His hands clap against each other as he dusts them off, shaking dirt loose from both the knuckles and creases of his flesh hand, and the joints of his durasteel one- but it's clear that the question catches him off guard.]

Oh- yeah.

[Or maybe it's the offer of help that's done it. He frowns thoughtfully at the grass. The grass doesn't respond.]

The clinic is running low on supplies so I figured it couldn't hurt to scrounge up anything edible. This place seems pretty unprepared for the disease. If it keeps going on like this there won't be many locals left to make sure the sick will eat.