Give Me Love

chapter thirty nine

"Thanks," she mumbled. "You do, too."

You grabbed another flute of champagne from a server walking by and passed it over to Ahsoka, then took her wrist and began walking through the crowds. Balls could get boring real fast-- the music wasn't right for dancing yet, and people were still arriving. So you thought that maybe you'd scope the scene out for a bit, see what you had to work with.

You had Ahsoka had made three rounds around the whole floor, starting the dancing off by being the first ones to twirl around with each other to the strum of the cello and violins, and quenching your thirst with too many glasses of champagne.

You were actually having a a decent time, taking turns spinning under each others arms and shooting glares at the creepy man still watching Ahsoka from the corner of the room.

Your tipsy self had just downed another glass of champagne, and decided it was time to go confront him. You left Ahsoka on the dance floor and pushed through the crowd of politicians toward the creepy guy, when you saw him.

He looked older than you remembered. Graying hairs by his temples, saggings lines under his eyes and by his mouth. Those inquisitive eyes that seemed to capture everything-- so cold and distant, as if he had been blessed with endless knowledge, but cursed into only being able to view it from the other side of a looking-glass.

His head was always stuffed in a damn microscope.

There were wrinkles by his eyes as a result, eyebrows overgrown and also streaked with gray hairs. His hands were a little less smooth, a little less steady as they clutched the rim of a champagne flute. A surgeon's hands, through and through, but one that was growing old and weak and tired.

The business must be taking a toll on him, unsurprisingly, considering what he must have dealt with after you left.

"Y/n, wait up! We can't make a scene--" Ahsoka stopped short in her tracks when she saw your horrified expression, quickly growing serious. "What's wrong?"

"That's... that's my..."

Someone was talking to him, and they pointed at you. His head turned, and your blood froze.

Your dad.

"We gotta go," you grabbed her wrist and pivoted on your heel, narrowly avoiding a couple who just happened to walk in front of you. You shouldered your way through uncaring that you probably looked like an asshole right now.

"Hey, Y/n! Ahsoka! Come say hi," a voice rang through the air, high as a bird and clear as a bell.

It was Padmé talking to your father. Now this was interesting.

Your skin crawled, stomach lurching and doing somersaults in your stomach. You desperately shoved your way further and further away, but the dancing was picking up and most people were being shoved together now. The whole damn floor was filling up, almost pushing you in their direction, and she was waving you toward her excitedly.

It was inescapable.

You thought you were going to throw up with every step toward them. You felt trapped, choked among the dozens of sweaty body's paving your way.

Ahsoka was right by your side though, fingers twitching for her lightsaber as if she were going to use it. She wasn't-- but the copious amounts of dread and panic you were leaking off into the force would have fooled her into thinking there was a natural disaster going on.

She fit the pieces together pretty quickly when she got a full view of the man's face.

She was only a little familiar with what your life had been like living with him-- "unpleasant", you had called it, with a wrinkle of your nose and dismissing the topic as soon as it came up-- but obviously you weren't thrilled about being put in this situation.