Although he usually appreciated Poe's slightly skewed sense of humor, today Anakin just wasn't able to be lifted by the jokes. His young face remained serious, blue eyes troubled, haunted. The residual power left by that anger back in the corridor still clung in fractured tendrils to his shadow, and that terrified him. His mind was a closed door, a blank wall, an impenetrable vault; he never wanted Poe to feel this in him.

After three tries, however, he finally managed to untangle his tongue, stare down at his boots, and mutter stilted apologies. Poe didn't deserve this. He'd never deserve this.

"...m' s-sorry, Poe," came out eventually. Anakin shook his head once, twice, heaving a sigh that seemed to come from his feet, which he apparently found irresistibly interesting just now.