the words are clipped, but not unkind. the office of the senator has always been prided upon it’s diplomacy afterall. granted, her brand of diplomacy is probably not quite so eloquent or as necessary these days as that of senator amidala, but some habits still die hard. sabé is still regaining her own footing, piecing together her own identity in the absence of one that is shared - but certain mannerisms will always be mirrored, adopted traits borrowed once and never since returned. in a way, it’s how she likes it. it means that on some level they’re still connected. still soul sisters, even if no longer on a shared political footing.
the look she gives him is impossible to read; ( an expression that in some respects is far more knowing than it ought to be. ) she’s watched padmé’s own expressions for the best part of the last decade. learnt every intricacy of that angelic face and marvelled at it’s perfection. she knows every smile and every frown - memorised every precursor to both, because it has been in her very job description to emulate and anticipate. but she hadn’t expected the change in recent months. hadn’t expected the smile that anakin had heralded, or the ease with which padmé now seemed to carry herself. if she didn’t know better, she might say she was jealous of him. of being the one to gift such joy and light in her dearest friend’s life, simply by existing, but sabé is not so naive, nor melodramatic. she is merely acutely aware of a change, even if she can’t quite unearth the extent of it yet.
❝she SHOULD be, for what it’s worth. but you know politics.
it’s always on somebody else’s time. ❞
