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MHA #8, Thursday Evening
The only reason Stark was not at a bar trying to drink his feelings away for the 4th night in a row was because Anakin had said he would be coming by tonight. He could, he reasoned, always head across the street or wander to the other bar later if he needed to. Or if Anakin didn't show.
Instead of drinking yet was standing awkwardly in his living room, watching the door with a serious expression on his face.
He'd had nothing but serious expressions on his face the entire week.
[For the Jedi mentioned above]
Instead of drinking yet was standing awkwardly in his living room, watching the door with a serious expression on his face.
He'd had nothing but serious expressions on his face the entire week.
[For the Jedi mentioned above]
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Which was pretty much his default state this week.
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"I've been trying," he protested.
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"I'm not hungry," Obi-Wan, popping back up again, said. "But the food smells delicious."
"Thanks," Anakin said a little wryly, opening a takeout box at random and digging in.
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"I didn't mean to take it off!"
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And then reached for some food because this was getting ridiculous and he wanted at least a few bites.
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