Padmé managed her best smile, hoping it would do the trick. "I'll think about it." But Rush still couldn't be pleased. "Nope," he said, shaking his head. "Not good enough." His eyes sparkled with mischief, and with his next move, he sat on top of her desk, Padmé's datapads tumbling in every direction as he took center stage to emphasize his point. "I'm not leaving until you agree."
"Mr. Clovis..." Padmé felt herself becoming annoyed. "This isn't–"
Rush raised his hand. "Ah, ah," he said, swinging his finger. "I don't want to hear that. I want to hear that you'll agree." He smiled again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and literally lying across her desk. "Or else I'm not leaving, and I dare say you shall not get any work done."
Padmé frowned, caught between annoyance and outright dismay. The audacity of this man! "Mr. Clovis," she began, "I'm flattered by your inter–" The statement fell short. A sudden gasp from beside her stole Padmé's concentration, shifting all her thoughts from the unwelcome guest to her long-time friend. She spun her head toward Dormé, who appeared pale and stumbled backward. "Dormé?" Padmé asked, immediately concerned. She rose from her seat and reached out to grasp the other woman's shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Dormé's skin felt cold to the touch, almost like ice or death. In truth, Padmé had felt corpses that were warmer. "Dormé?" Padmé probed again, but Dormé remained silent and frozen, her paralyzed gaze cast toward the door. The only sign of life was how her body seemed to tremble.
Another wave of concern washed over Padmé as she gently shook the young woman, but Dormé remained unresponsive. It was unsettling. Padmé had never seen her like this before. A loyal handmaiden of Naboo was rarely rattled to the core, and Dormé was an experienced one at that. She was hardly ever shaken, yet here she stood, her face frozen with fear and her eyes filled with the lingering whisper of death. However, Padmé had to admit that, although this was a new expression on Dormé's face, there was something about it that felt familiar. Something oddly nostalgicor something of that sort. Where had she seen that look before...?
Padmé paled. Moons of Naboo...
In that moment, Padmé knew. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and her senses instantly tuned into the change in the suite. She had felt this occurrence only once before, but that one time was enough to memorize the clues of the certain presence. How could she not? It was unmistakable. Unforgettable. It accompanied a certain someone wherever they went. It was evident. Undeniable. Like a wave of pure dread and a bitter chill that penetrated her bones. Her body physically reacted to it; every hair stood on end, unable to stop shivering.
She slowly turned toward the door, everything seemingly falling into slow motion. That simple action suddenly felt like the longest act Padmé had ever attempted in her life, and even more alarming was the thought that it might be her last. She prayed to the Force in those drawn-out moments, offering a silent prayer for her family's sake, though she couldn't help but add a small plea for her own well-being as well. Her mind told her there was only one reasonable explanation for the dark presence, yet she fiercely hoped for a lesser outcome. She hoped for a miracle.
It felt like an unfathomable amount of time had passed by the time she fully turned toward the front of the office, her eyes widening as they settled on the chilling sight of Darth Vader, the Sith Lord in the flesh, standing just outside her doorway. "L–Lord Vader," Padmé acknowledged the Sith after a moment, hoping he wouldn't detect the unease in her voice behind her forced firmness. "This is a surprise visit. What do we owe the pleasure?"
The Sith stood silently in the doorway, resembling nothing more than a statue that adorned the halls, intensifying the agony of his sudden appearance. Padmé had heard rumors about the Dark Lord's fondness for and extensive knowledge of torture techniques, and she was beginning to think this was one of them. It was nearly agonizing and suffocating. Even with all her years of experience, it was challenging to remain calm in his presence. She found herself struggling to control her breathing, attempting to mask her emotions as her mind raced with questions. Why was he here? What did he want? Did that mean... Padmé felt her breath hitch in her throat and Dormé's hand crushing against her fingers. Was this truly it? "A surprise indeed," Rush said, completely forgotten in his spot on her desk. "And an unwanted one at that." He leapt off Padmé's desk and strutted into the middle of the room, wearing that cocky smile as he paused a safe three meters away from the Sith. "We're busy here," he continued, waving his hand. "So, if you could come back later, that would be great."
The Sith remained still, and although his gaze was concealed beneath the seemingly endless blackness of his hood, a wave of relief washed over Padmé. Although she couldn't explain it, she sensed that his gaze was not directed at her. In fact, he paid no attention to her or Dormé at all. She could feel it. When Vader looked at you, you felt the weight of his gaze, and your body reacted to the undeniable fact of his deadly eyes burning into your skin. She had experienced the coldness of his presence and the usual fear-based response, but nothing beyond that. She felt nothing... because he wasn't there for her. He was there for Rush. She just knew it, and although that thought was somewhat pleasing, she dismissed any positive feelings relating to the Sith.
"Nonsense," Padmé replied, aware that she was playing a perilous game in which she could easily become a victim. "Please come in, Lord Vader."
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