[She wants to believe, and maybe she does, but not fully, not all the way. Not yet, anyway. How he had looked at her, thinking that she had betrayed him on Mustafar, as if she would ever do such a thing. But it hasn't happened, not for him, not yet, and maybe, just maybe, that is the saving grace. There is no twisting to his features, no confusion or hatred or befuddlement. He is Anakin. Her Anakin. Her love.
Yet looking at him, he radiates that truth, and she does find her heart lifting, that own shadow dissipating ever so slightly. She vows to herself in that moment that she won't let it happen again. Never. Not here.
Delicately, as if it is something new, and it is, her fingers move to curl around his arm, until she is squeezing it. That light pressure remains, as if reminding herself over and over and over that it is him, that he is here, that this is some reality where he has not descended.
Steps. Small steps. One at a time.]
The quarters I've been assigned to. The Nomo deck?
[Casting a curious glance in his direction. Mechanical things have always been in his blood, right from the first time she had met him. No doubt he has been around the ship, quite possibly poking in to things he might not be poking in to. More like than not, he knows where it is.]
no subject
Yet looking at him, he radiates that truth, and she does find her heart lifting, that own shadow dissipating ever so slightly. She vows to herself in that moment that she won't let it happen again. Never. Not here.
And there is a soft noise at his gesture, one of relief and love and perhaps a touch of amusement. It's still too soon for the darkness in her own soul to be gone, but how she just wants to gather him up again and never let go. Secrecy has always shrouded their marriage, just as she said it would. Padmé would not ruin him, deprive him of being a Jedi, for being a Jedi was just as much a part of him as being her husband.
Delicately, as if it is something new, and it is, her fingers move to curl around his arm, until she is squeezing it. That light pressure remains, as if reminding herself over and over and over that it is him, that he is here, that this is some reality where he has not descended.
Steps. Small steps. One at a time.]
The quarters I've been assigned to. The Nomo deck?
[Casting a curious glance in his direction. Mechanical things have always been in his blood, right from the first time she had met him. No doubt he has been around the ship, quite possibly poking in to things he might not be poking in to. More like than not, he knows where it is.]