[Anakin stops short in the cave entrance, his silhouette lit by the dim light of what passes for stardust and moonshine on this outpost planet. There's an audibly sharp intake of breath and a pause, a too-quiet, too-still moment as he parses that single syllable. There's little softness in it, though that is rarely a thing he expects with his former Master. There is, however, enough desperation that he understands it implicitly, can read into it as a plea on a level that doesn't need the Force to help shape, and outline, and illuminate (however much he still wishes it would).
With a heavy exhale a moment later, his shoulders finally slump, and he can feel the tension in those tired muscles release, even if the pain underneath is still wound like a tight coil set to spring. Another deep breath, and he finally turns back, snapping his lightsaber to his belt. He glances back at Obi-Wan, his expression no less pained, but the anger, at least, is gone, leaving behind only tired, red-ringed eyes and a pout to rival the most petulant teenager. (Something he never did quite grow out of).]
Fine.
[But he's not apologizing for this. Not right now.]
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With a heavy exhale a moment later, his shoulders finally slump, and he can feel the tension in those tired muscles release, even if the pain underneath is still wound like a tight coil set to spring. Another deep breath, and he finally turns back, snapping his lightsaber to his belt. He glances back at Obi-Wan, his expression no less pained, but the anger, at least, is gone, leaving behind only tired, red-ringed eyes and a pout to rival the most petulant teenager. (Something he never did quite grow out of).]
Fine.
[But he's not apologizing for this. Not right now.]