Arha did not care if he did not wish her there. She came with her hair loose, clad in her plantsuit, barefoot, empty handed. This was not a lightsaber battle, nor was it one of any blade at all. She had peeled the plantsuit up to allow her feet to dig in against the deck of the medical room, should she need it. There was no
steeling in preparation, she came open, her shields dropped and baldfaced before Vader.
She studied him from the doorway, her head tilted and her blue-within-blue eyes half-slitted in contemplation. He would be rude, she would ignore it, he would yell, and she would speak softly. The poison in him, this Dark Side, it was just poison. Arha had survived The Water of Life--so, too, would she survive the taint that flowed through him.
Poison always burned.
She swept a cursory probe over the work she had done the day before and found it well and still healing. It needed help, but this was why she came. It was not easy to initiate contact, to push aside the darkness, but such a thing was to be done and she would get better at doing it in time. She moved into the room and took a seat beside his bed.
For the moment, she sad nothing.
[[For this post I have music: Canvas.]]