CH56

Hesitantly, she reached for the cloak, waiting for Vader to change his mind or completely disregard her embarrassment– or, more realistically, for her to wake from the strange dream in which she found herself. She took the cloak from Vader's grasp and slowly draped it over her body, almost immediately feeling the absence of his hands on her skin. It was a sensation she didn't want to dwell on, but at the very least, she allowed herself to breathe in relief.

Once fully covered, she stood up and inspected herself. The black robe was enormous- far too big for her small figure- but it concealed her half-naked body, and for that, she was thankful. She slowly turned toward Lord Vader, wiping the tears from her face and trying to regain her composure, becoming somewhat stable, though the sickness and alcohol still lingered in her belly.

"Thank you, Lord Vad–" Padmé tried to speak professionally, but soon felt herself swaying as a wave of nausea coursed through her body, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Your drunken state makes you act like a fool," Vader snapped in annoyance, stepping back noticeably as if he could sense the wave of nausea and wished to avoid it. "I despise drunks."

He appeared excessively annoyed, yet she could hardly care. Padmé focused on her breathing, her hand resting over her mouth as she counted to thirty until her stomach settled.

"I'm not that drunk," she attempted to argue, feeling the wave crash over her once more before her hand found her lips again. Shit. Maybe she was.

"Count again," Vader commanded, and Padmé obeyed, suppressing the chill that crept down her spine as she realized he had been monitoring her thoughts once more. "It's enough to confuse your senses," he continued, reprimanding her while resting his hands on his belt; his words were more severe than she fully comprehended. "Your tolerance for such substances isn't high. What you did was foo–" "Foolish," Padmé completed his sentence, sensing the wave pass as she rolled her eyes. " I get it. I know. What do you care?"

"I despise babysitting," he growled, turning and walking down the street instead of retreating into his darkness. "And idiots."

Padmé hurriedly stumbled after him, tripping over the long garment that slid behind her, yet too afraid to pause for fear of being left alone. "Is there anything you don't despise?"

"No," he replied dryly.

"Well," Padmé offered, her curiosity piqued and bold. "If you despise everything so much, then why are you here?"

He made no effort to reply, his head held forward as he continued his slow pace. Padmé watched him as they walked, feeling a strange sensation about the man beside her. It was something she couldn't quite understand, yet she knew she had never felt it before. Oddly, she no longer felt only fear regarding the Sith; she also experienced a heightened curiositymore curiosity than she had ever felt before, if that were even possible.

"Silence," she mused with a slight nod. "You know that won't deter me from asking questions."

"Your drunkenness has given you some bravery," Vader commented, his voice irritated and angry. Unfortunately, I'm aware.

"Good," Padmé replied, reinforcing her point. "So, why are you here?"

Once again, he made no effort to reply, but Padmé continued nonetheless.

"Does it relate to that party? The Senate? Palpatine? He told you to spy on me, didn't he?"

It was a fair question, one that even surprised her in her dazed state, but Vader remained unimpressed– unimpressed and silent. Padmé battled a wave of annoyance, seeking answers but struggling to find them. She knew the opportunity might never arise again– that she would never again feel so carefree and reckless. She doubted she would even remember this night, or so she hoped, which made Vader's silence seem pointless. With a smirk, she figured out how to provoke him, giving him an amused glance.

"You know," she sighed, "I could return to the sex questions if you'd prefer."

He didn't move closer to her, but Padmé sensed his sudden change. "I would induce you into a coma," he breathed lowly. "If I weren't so apprehensive that you might stop breathing."

The threat lingered in the air, but Padmé was too pleased that he had responded to truly care, instead analyzing his words and piecing together the clues. "Are you worried about killing me? Does that mean you have orders not to?" Vader let out a sound akin to a disgruntled growl before turning away. Padmé smiled, confident she had at least one answer. His annoyance—and the simple fact that she was still breathing—was sufficient to provoke a resounding yes.

She proceeded to her next question.

"So you're powerful with the Force," she remarked thoughtfully. "But I suppose that much is clear." She looked up with a slight frown, gazing at his hooded head and contemplating who or what lay beneathpondering whom Palpatine was concealing from the galaxy. Just who was Darth Vader, really? And what secrets did he harbor? "It's the mystery beneath the hood..." she concluded quietly, envisioning various creatures in her mind, each more sinister and repulsive than the last.

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