[ Anakin's eyes briefly follow the movement of Claude's muscles as he moves, the tight shirt stretching across his chest and making him remember what he looks like without it. Wearing very little, as it were. It makes him feel just slightly heated and he picks at his own sleeve, briefly, just to do something with his body. Something physical. The thrill of racing has long since abated.
Are you going to tell me Claude asks, not because he can't guess - the other man has told him many times that he isn't blind to the way the galaxy works, that there is oppression and carelessness and corruption within the established system, as a direct consequence of it. At best, it's accidental neglicence. At worst, it's selfishness.
Or rather, a combination of both.
He worries his bottom lip for a second, feeling weirdly young all of a sudden. When he first came to Coruscant, he'd known next to nothing of the world he'd come to and seen everything through the lenses he'd been born with, the views he'd been brought up to survive by. Though the Chancellor had never made him feel stupid (as opposed to Obi-Wan who still, regularly, indulges in that little joy), he'd known that his views were... limited. The world is much, much bigger than they'd ever tell you, Anakin, Palpatine used to say when Anakin would come to him, angry and stubborn (and sad) about yet another thing he hadn't known how to know, for not being able to read or write, for bothering Obi-Wan with his ignorance. It's no fault of yours, the Chancellor would add, always kindly. All you have to do is keep listening and your base of knowledge will right itself.
Hard to say whether that ever truly happened but if the Chancellor sees too much in him, one can hardly blame him. It's just the way he is. ]
If there'd been any true power behind the Republic as it is, they would have ended the Hutt Clans long ago.
[ It comes out harshly, his words clipped. Catching himself, he takes a deep breath and continues. ]
They're criminals. Murderers - slavers. And we have an army now, we have fire power and means. But all we do is fight droids and I get that it's important, that we mustn't give even an inch to the Separatists. Even so.
[ He trails off. Runs his fingers through his hair idly, restlessly. ]
[ While he listens to Anakin, it dawns on him that the other man isn't speaking from an ideological point of view. He is speaking from experience, and what a difference that makes. While Paris has suffered under oppression for generations, it has been of another kind, there has not been a societal acceptance of crime or murder or, indeed, slavery. No matter what you might say of everyone being slaves of the system, it is not those people who are owned and branded by others.
It saddens him. Not for his own sake, not for anyone's sake but Anakin's. His eyes are drawn in by the way Anakin runs his fingers through his hair, the half-long strands of it falling around his face. Claude would embrace him if he had been given any invitation to do so, as it is his hand clenches into a fist next to his half-empty cognac glass. The only sympathy he can offer, really.
As individuals they are all but powerless in these matters. It is a systemic problem to solve. Because the systemic structure relies on the status quo to exist and on the dismantling of the status quo to not. ]
You're right, it is. [ It's not a difficult admittance to make. ] It's not just wrong as a matter of oversight either, its wrongness is consciously being ignored, because as long as we support that kind of injustice, the moneyflow will uphold everyone's living standards. Everyone except those who suffer under it.
[ With a frown, Claude turns towards Anakin fully, twisting on his stool, his knees bumping the other man's leg gently. ]
It isn't meant to be like that, it isn't meant to be a division between everything and nothing. We're all supposed to own enough to be comfortable, not more and not less. Least of all, we're all supposed to own ourselves, Anakin.
[ The last sentence comes out soft and empathetic, to emphasize that Claude is going to guess at why this matters to him, why he isn't blind to this shortcoming of the system, although Anakin's evidently willing to overlook a lot of other ones. There are many problems in regards to the established system, of course, some greater and some minor, and unfortunately sometimes it's the resolution of the minor ones that will in the end lead to a current that can resolve the great ones. You should think it was the other way around, right?
Feminism works on several levels at once, it must. Claude looks at the other man directly while taking another drink of his Abrax. ]
By principle, I should probably tell you the only way to solve this is through political channels, but there are transgressions so grave and belief systems so skewed that diplomacy can't fix it. We have a saying on Paris that translates to something like "you can't reason with a violent madman, you must first knock him down and once he lies still, you can reason". I think it applies here, too.
[ Claude bumps his knee and tells him that it isn't meant to be like this, not because the ideology is right and the people are wrong - but because the system itself isn't based on freedom for everyone. Slavery isn't meant to be abolished, by that logic. Anakin hates it.
And he's known for years, though he'd never be able to put it as concisely as Claude just did.
Drink mostly forgotten, he leans in a little, gaze roaming across Claude's features - familiar at this point, pronounced cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips - and thinking, how does he understand? but he does, finally, someone who does. When he was younger, he'd talk to as many people as he could in the Temple, trying to find someone who'd be willing to help him, to go with him to Tatooine and get his mother, their people. It speaks volumes, really, that he's here today, fighting somebody else's war, while his mother has become one with the sands. Diplomacy can't fix it says Claude and that's the problem, in a nutshell.
Winning the war is up the Jedi, to the soldiers, to those who take up arms. Ending slavery is no different.
For a long, long moment, he just looks at Claude, his own gaze unflinching as he takes him in, imprints. ]
I'm glad you know these things. That someone does.
[ He shifts forward, their knees not just brushing but pressing together, feeling the hardness of the other man, bone and muscle and skin and above that, heat. For some reason, he remembers the flash of lights passing by as he'd flown through the lower level streets, spinning and dodging completely by instinct, his own body a continuation of the speeder, of its circuits and switches and the fuel, burning to nothing too fast.
He thinks about that and then, carefully, he puts his flesh hand over Claude's and rests it there, fingers curling slightly around the shape of it. ]
[ They draw closer proportionally, Anakin turning towards him, their knees pushing over each other, bone and flesh and heat and blood ready to spill, and Claude stays calm beneath the other man's gaze, because it weighs on him, like lead, like metal, like heatwaves. He doesn't imagine the Jedi Temple has been a welcoming home in regards to these particular views, not any more than his own Council welcomed his views back on Paris. So, they've been shouting into abysses, the both of them.
Now they're shouting at each other and if nothing else, there are willing ears on the other end of the sound, travelling.
Anakin's flesh hand is lighter and warmer, but also somehow gentler than what Claude has felt of his mechno one. It wraps around the back of his own, like initiative, but also like bridging. Claude sits like that for a long moment, lets Anakin tell him that he's never met anyone like him before which, honestly, likewise, Anakin Skywalker, before he twists his hand in the other man's grip, turns his palm upwards, catches his fingers and interlaces them with his own. A slight smile, not amused, not teasing, just there. His most genuine response.
It feels nice, close. He feels visible for the first time in many years. Like a ghost seeing its own reflection in a mirror, impossible but they say that about a lot of things that you only need the right measures for.
Claude leans in a bit, bringing their faces closer together, hair brushing, foreheads almost, too. ]
Means we've both been too alone, I guess.
[ He bumps their foreheads, then, smile widening. ]
If you don't want to go back tonight, you can sleep at my place.
[ Claude doesn't pull away and though Anakin hadn't exactly expected him to - mostly because he doesn't usually concern himself with what-ifs or hypothetical failures - there's still a part of him that settles, feeling Claude staying beneath his hand before he turns his palm upwards and entwines their fingers. His smile is sweet. Anakin watches it, feeling hungry for something he can't entirely understand and when the other man leans in, he follows suit, mirrors him, until their foreheads press together. ]
I do. [ He pauses. Re-thinks the words quickly, then adds, feeling like he's stumbling over himself a little now, the way he used to do around Padmé when he was eighteen, devoid of experience: ] I mean, I want to. Come home with you.
[ Right now, he can't imagine doing anything else - going back to the Temple to be by himself some more, to meditate? Going back to the lower levels to drag his wrecked speeder away, knowing that it'll take him months to fix it? All of that sounds like he can't afford the time it'll take, like it's too long and it'll leave him with less than when he started, the way it's been ever since he left Tatooine. Losses. Less and less.
Meanwhile, Claude's smile makes his heart beat faster.
Smiling slightly, he tightens his grip on the other man and holds on. He knows where he wants to go and Claude... Claude is leading the way. ]
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no subject
Are you going to tell me Claude asks, not because he can't guess - the other man has told him many times that he isn't blind to the way the galaxy works, that there is oppression and carelessness and corruption within the established system, as a direct consequence of it. At best, it's accidental neglicence. At worst, it's selfishness.
Or rather, a combination of both.
He worries his bottom lip for a second, feeling weirdly young all of a sudden. When he first came to Coruscant, he'd known next to nothing of the world he'd come to and seen everything through the lenses he'd been born with, the views he'd been brought up to survive by. Though the Chancellor had never made him feel stupid (as opposed to Obi-Wan who still, regularly, indulges in that little joy), he'd known that his views were... limited. The world is much, much bigger than they'd ever tell you, Anakin, Palpatine used to say when Anakin would come to him, angry and stubborn (and sad) about yet another thing he hadn't known how to know, for not being able to read or write, for bothering Obi-Wan with his ignorance. It's no fault of yours, the Chancellor would add, always kindly. All you have to do is keep listening and your base of knowledge will right itself.
Hard to say whether that ever truly happened but if the Chancellor sees too much in him, one can hardly blame him. It's just the way he is. ]
If there'd been any true power behind the Republic as it is, they would have ended the Hutt Clans long ago.
[ It comes out harshly, his words clipped. Catching himself, he takes a deep breath and continues. ]
They're criminals. Murderers - slavers. And we have an army now, we have fire power and means. But all we do is fight droids and I get that it's important, that we mustn't give even an inch to the Separatists. Even so.
[ He trails off. Runs his fingers through his hair idly, restlessly. ]
I just think the balance is off.
no subject
It saddens him. Not for his own sake, not for anyone's sake but Anakin's. His eyes are drawn in by the way Anakin runs his fingers through his hair, the half-long strands of it falling around his face. Claude would embrace him if he had been given any invitation to do so, as it is his hand clenches into a fist next to his half-empty cognac glass. The only sympathy he can offer, really.
As individuals they are all but powerless in these matters. It is a systemic problem to solve. Because the systemic structure relies on the status quo to exist and on the dismantling of the status quo to not. ]
You're right, it is. [ It's not a difficult admittance to make. ] It's not just wrong as a matter of oversight either, its wrongness is consciously being ignored, because as long as we support that kind of injustice, the moneyflow will uphold everyone's living standards. Everyone except those who suffer under it.
[ With a frown, Claude turns towards Anakin fully, twisting on his stool, his knees bumping the other man's leg gently. ]
It isn't meant to be like that, it isn't meant to be a division between everything and nothing. We're all supposed to own enough to be comfortable, not more and not less. Least of all, we're all supposed to own ourselves, Anakin.
[ The last sentence comes out soft and empathetic, to emphasize that Claude is going to guess at why this matters to him, why he isn't blind to this shortcoming of the system, although Anakin's evidently willing to overlook a lot of other ones. There are many problems in regards to the established system, of course, some greater and some minor, and unfortunately sometimes it's the resolution of the minor ones that will in the end lead to a current that can resolve the great ones. You should think it was the other way around, right?
Feminism works on several levels at once, it must. Claude looks at the other man directly while taking another drink of his Abrax. ]
By principle, I should probably tell you the only way to solve this is through political channels, but there are transgressions so grave and belief systems so skewed that diplomacy can't fix it. We have a saying on Paris that translates to something like "you can't reason with a violent madman, you must first knock him down and once he lies still, you can reason". I think it applies here, too.
no subject
And he's known for years, though he'd never be able to put it as concisely as Claude just did.
Drink mostly forgotten, he leans in a little, gaze roaming across Claude's features - familiar at this point, pronounced cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, full lips - and thinking, how does he understand? but he does, finally, someone who does. When he was younger, he'd talk to as many people as he could in the Temple, trying to find someone who'd be willing to help him, to go with him to Tatooine and get his mother, their people. It speaks volumes, really, that he's here today, fighting somebody else's war, while his mother has become one with the sands. Diplomacy can't fix it says Claude and that's the problem, in a nutshell.
Winning the war is up the Jedi, to the soldiers, to those who take up arms. Ending slavery is no different.
For a long, long moment, he just looks at Claude, his own gaze unflinching as he takes him in, imprints. ]
I'm glad you know these things. That someone does.
[ He shifts forward, their knees not just brushing but pressing together, feeling the hardness of the other man, bone and muscle and skin and above that, heat. For some reason, he remembers the flash of lights passing by as he'd flown through the lower level streets, spinning and dodging completely by instinct, his own body a continuation of the speeder, of its circuits and switches and the fuel, burning to nothing too fast.
He thinks about that and then, carefully, he puts his flesh hand over Claude's and rests it there, fingers curling slightly around the shape of it. ]
I've never met anyone like you before.
no subject
Now they're shouting at each other and if nothing else, there are willing ears on the other end of the sound, travelling.
Anakin's flesh hand is lighter and warmer, but also somehow gentler than what Claude has felt of his mechno one. It wraps around the back of his own, like initiative, but also like bridging. Claude sits like that for a long moment, lets Anakin tell him that he's never met anyone like him before which, honestly, likewise, Anakin Skywalker, before he twists his hand in the other man's grip, turns his palm upwards, catches his fingers and interlaces them with his own. A slight smile, not amused, not teasing, just there. His most genuine response.
It feels nice, close. He feels visible for the first time in many years. Like a ghost seeing its own reflection in a mirror, impossible but they say that about a lot of things that you only need the right measures for.
Claude leans in a bit, bringing their faces closer together, hair brushing, foreheads almost, too. ]
Means we've both been too alone, I guess.
[ He bumps their foreheads, then, smile widening. ]
If you don't want to go back tonight, you can sleep at my place.
no subject
I do. [ He pauses. Re-thinks the words quickly, then adds, feeling like he's stumbling over himself a little now, the way he used to do around Padmé when he was eighteen, devoid of experience: ] I mean, I want to. Come home with you.
[ Right now, he can't imagine doing anything else - going back to the Temple to be by himself some more, to meditate? Going back to the lower levels to drag his wrecked speeder away, knowing that it'll take him months to fix it? All of that sounds like he can't afford the time it'll take, like it's too long and it'll leave him with less than when he started, the way it's been ever since he left Tatooine. Losses. Less and less.
Meanwhile, Claude's smile makes his heart beat faster.
Smiling slightly, he tightens his grip on the other man and holds on. He knows where he wants to go and Claude... Claude is leading the way. ]