Vader was not a happy camper. Oh no.
"Come on, Dad! Just let me have some!" Vader skillfully kept the substance where his son could not get to it.
"Son, I do not think you--" Luke tackled his father to the ground.
"Dad, if I can stand up to the emperor and live, then I THINK I can survive some Vodka!" If Vader hadn't been wearing a mask, Luke would have seen his eyebrow raise in a dignified manner.
"You're too imperious, you know that?" Luke said sulkingly.
"You're too impertinent, you know that?" Vader answered mockingly. Luke sighed and stood up, allowing his father the same freedom of movement. However, the younger Skywalker still had yet to give up on the Vodka.
"You are SO hoary!" Vader started at that.
"EXCUSE ME?" He demanded. Luke started him straight in the eye.
"You heard me. You're hoary. Hoary, hoary, HOARY!"
"You keep using that word -- I do not think it means
what you think it means." At that, Luke's face broke into a mischievous
grin.
"Wanna bet?" came the reply. "Hoary has two definitions. One, having grey hair. Which, I'm sure, isn't the one that applies to you seeing as you are officially BALD. Two, old and unoriginal which DEFINITELY fits your description."
Vader stared at his son's smug face. And stared. And stared. And stared some more as he tried to remember WHY he had agreed to meet with his son. Which was when he realized his son had never given him a reason.
"And today is the day I realized that you are FAR too young for alcoholic beverages."
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