Hearing all of that, Anakin suddenly jerked away with an exasperated huff, shaking his head. "I'm not the kryffing Messiah, General," he tried not to growl. And by some miracle, succeeded, but it was a near thing. "I don't even know what to do most of the time, so how in all hells can I save the Jedi or embody the Force or whatever it is Uncle Luke tried to beat into my head when I was just a kid!"

Frustration--which had perched on his shoulders all of his life--lashed out without warning, and the corridor light bulbs suddenly whined, buzzed, then burst. Silently horrified, Anakin recoiled from his mother, tucking his hands beneath his arms out of sheer reflex. He didn't speak any further, just shook his head again and headed towards the flight deck, veering that way out of sheer instinct.

Moving by feel alone, he wound his way through the cluttered floor, finally fetching up near Dameron's ship, stuttering to a halt nearly out of breath, but not from any physical exertion. Blue eyes were wide, however, as he ducked beneath a wing, and they fixed on the pilot without hesitation.

Anakin bit his lip, unsure.