The guru paused, slightly taken aback by his companion's pointed words. She was right, in death he would be of no use to the people. "Lusca, I-" the prophet moved forwards, but the warrior caste namekian had already bowed her head and profusely apologized. "My daughter, there.... There is no reason to be ashamed of your words, they are a force of good... And you speak with honesty and strength, traits of a true leader." His hand was on the shoulder of the repenting namekian now, and he held it there for a moment before turning to the side. "You are right," he began to speak, to acknowledge that she was wise beyond her years, but no further more words came from his mouth. "Now then," the guru shifted his focus lightening up significantly, "I think we have had enough training for now, yes?" Comfortable cushioned stools appeared beneath the two namekians, and a table materialized in the space between them. As the prophet sat down, a teapot and two subsequent tea cups would appear in the center of the table. "Now then, how about some training of the pallet?" The prophet joked, reassuringly picking up the teapot and beginning to pour a cup for his friend and wise ally.