botgals.

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SHE WOULDN’T DO anything, it’s probably the first time he’s drunk anything besides Bantha Milk. Or maybe she’s just underestimating him. A small nod and a smile, standing pliant so he was able to touch the arm —- wasn’t like she felt a thing anyway. It wasn’t the most up to date of robotics. They just needed her able to open doors and the like. Feeling the metal under her palm meant nothing to them. But it was understandable, she wasn’t a new table — she wasn’t an investment, sooner or later she’d leave or die. No point in spending all those credits if it wasn’t a permanent fix. Death came for everyone, even party girls. “You should go then. You’ve have quite enough for today I think.” 

Doesn’t answer about the arm just yet, though she still hasn’t moved. It was out of date by a while, if he could make sense of it she would be rather surprised. “But you know where you can find me, I suppose. You’re a Jedi after all.” A small smile and a wink. The offer is obviously there, not just for the arm, but other things. Maybe he would take her up on it, maybe he won’t but it was there. 

Metallic hand reaches up and runs over his cheek, smiling slightly before she stands up. Not long now until she finished, she was sure she could find some poor man to fawn over until she could leave. None, of course would be as interesting as a Jedi padawan, but at least it would give her a chance to think it all over and let the pheromones do the hard work. Not that she had to do much hard work. 

    “Hopefully your master doesn’t mind you’ve had a few too many. I would maybe get someone else to transport you. I don’t want to hear you’ve been in an accident. You can’t fix my arm if you’re dead.” All said with a smirk and wink. Though she was rather serious about him getting someone else to transport him. There was a law against that now or something. She never really paid attention.

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          IT’S GETTING LATE, && Anakin can feel the pleasant buzz of the alcohol in his blood fade into burning exhaustion behind his eyeballs. But he subsists, awareness shrinking to the antiquated prothesis that now rests in the crook of his palm. A seven-function force-feedback manipulator, last generation. No no surprise there, given her eagerness to have a practical stranger take a look at it. He turns her arm over, fingertips tracing the precise order of snips && screws that hold the mechanical seams together. The parts speak to him as they always have; a minute, inorganic parley, revealing to him all their little electric pains && how to best rectify them.

              He could fix this in his sleep.

    ❝ Tomorrow night, ❞ he promises, lurching off his barstool, his robe hanging haphazardly from one shoulder. ❝ I-I’ll bring my multitool && fix it for you tomorrow. ❞ Bright lattices of laser light brand ghost lines across his eyes, bobbing in his vision as he walks. ❝ I can— I can call an air taxi. ❞ Fingers fumble for the comlink hidden at his belt, punching in a shaky rendition of the local air taxi call code.

             Several meretriciously dressed twi’leks sway towards him from the shadows, all silk && slink && smile— until they realize he’s leaving, && quickly move onto giggling in another prospective John’s direction.

              Anakin stops before the exit, turning back to Vi to wave goodbye one last time before Coruscant claims him again.

 
independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.