#priorities

[t65]

Who: Anakin Skywalker sandhate & Luke Skywalker crudematter
Broadcast: nah
Action: On the Paisley probably. ISKAULIT whoops.
When: The literal second the latest shuffle happened.

[Luke doesn't actually know where his father is. Most people would text them to figure it out. Luke sits down and closes his eyes. A few minutes later, he has... a feeling. A feeling's enough.]

[A little while later, he's managed to get his butt on the Paisley. He doesn't know what the ship's called, of course, but he can sense through the Force that this is where his father is. He finds his Father's quarters and gently knocks on the door.]

Father?

Comments

[sandhate]

Maybe those people aren't worth it.

[ He holds up a hand, stopping Luke from going. He wants to ask that question, how he lost the hand that he obviously is self-conscious over but he hesitates in asking. Maybe he'll ask Leia; there's no way Luke's sister would lie about such a thing, even if she doesn't like him. ]

Luke, before you go, I think you should know you're not ...obligated to call me that.

[ He means father; because if it's uncomfortable to hear it, maybe Luke just feels obligated to say it. ]

[t65]

'Those people' are mostly children. [Luke says with obvious fondness. It isn't as though he was the only person with a missing limb in the Rebel Fleet, after all.]

Oh, I know, I... [This realization dawns on him for the first time, in slow motion and possibly technicolor.] Would you prefer I call you something else? [Look, here, he'll try to be accommodating,] ...Anakin? [Oh god that was so awkward it was like pulling teeth.]

[sandhate]

[ He stares at Luke for a moment, his mouth does a weird smile that's half way a pull to distaste and the other to sympathy. The ultimate "you tried" smile. ]

I think you could trust your instincts on that one. I'll leave it to you.

[ He relaxes from his rigid pose and curtly nods to Luke as a way of goodbye. That's as good as it's going to get for now. Anakin steps calmly out of the meditation room, his pace increasing as he goes.

Son of a hutt, fatherhood is dumb. ]