[They've been face to face for a matter of minutes, but already Anakin is aware of the casual shape of the man's body- the slope of his shoulders, the way one hand tucks into his back pocket, the way his dark glasses sit on the bridge of his nose. For a guy that's been yanked out of his home world and put in one of who-knows-how-many train cars, he doesn't seem all that bothered. But then he's probably being unfair. If this guy looks so calm, experience has taught him that he's likely got good reason. Knowing Master Yoda is enough to remind him that capability comes in all shapes and sizes- so who is he to worry about capability leaning against a pillar and handing out candy?
Anakin rolls the mint to the other side of his mouth and with it, his head tilts fractionally to one side. A generous person would call the expression thoughtful, but it might be more accurate to say that this is Anakin quite literally trying to look from a different perspective. When he'd asked doesn't that sound like a lot of work he'd meant that he would be the work- after all, Anakin has been on the other end of enough disciplinary meetings, lectures, and spontaneous holocalls to know he has a reputation. It hasn't occurred to him yet that he could meet his match out there in the wider universe; for a guy who so often represents unpredictability to the Jedi, he isn't used to anticipating it from others.
His weight shifts, a kind of wordless invitation to start walking- especially with the dropping of the a-word.
Allies.
Anakin's gaze lifts, catching the other's profile. There's no avoiding that the word has immediate relevance and he knows that; the whole galaxy has been embroiled in war for two years now, and it shows no sign of stopping. Alliance is a word that gets bandied around all over the place- in the hopeful faces of foreign planetary citizens, in war rooms, in high end diplomatic balls full of wealthy politicians. Disgust momentarily curls his lip, turns his stomach. But this isn't the same thing, not really. So shouldn't he just be happy to have run into someone equally focused on hurrying out of here?] Something tells me you aren't asking for help with the locals.
no subject
Anakin rolls the mint to the other side of his mouth and with it, his head tilts fractionally to one side. A generous person would call the expression thoughtful, but it might be more accurate to say that this is Anakin quite literally trying to look from a different perspective. When he'd asked doesn't that sound like a lot of work he'd meant that he would be the work- after all, Anakin has been on the other end of enough disciplinary meetings, lectures, and spontaneous holocalls to know he has a reputation. It hasn't occurred to him yet that he could meet his match out there in the wider universe; for a guy who so often represents unpredictability to the Jedi, he isn't used to anticipating it from others.
His weight shifts, a kind of wordless invitation to start walking- especially with the dropping of the a-word.
Allies.
Anakin's gaze lifts, catching the other's profile. There's no avoiding that the word has immediate relevance and he knows that; the whole galaxy has been embroiled in war for two years now, and it shows no sign of stopping. Alliance is a word that gets bandied around all over the place- in the hopeful faces of foreign planetary citizens, in war rooms, in high end diplomatic balls full of wealthy politicians. Disgust momentarily curls his lip, turns his stomach. But this isn't the same thing, not really. So shouldn't he just be happy to have run into someone equally focused on hurrying out of here?] Something tells me you aren't asking for help with the locals.