The grand dining hall of the military residence is uncharacteristically quiet this morning. The soldiers sit in tight clusters at long wooden tables, eating in awkward silence. The only sounds are the clinking of utensils against plates and the faint murmur of low conversations. Every so often, someone sneaks a glance toward Anakin and Lady Leya, seated at a separate table near the front.
Anakin had disrupted their routine this morning by choosing to eat with them rather than in his private quarters, a decision that had left Lady Leya with no choice but to follow him.
She has to stay close to him, his presence is her only ticket to remain relevant in this place. Yet, despite sitting side by side, a palpable discomfort hangs between them, neither acknowledging the elephant in the room— his dance with Yetsune at yesterday's ceremony .
