Waiting was very nearly like torture. Every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour. A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but it was how he felt.

So Aden paced around. Tidied anything he felt that needed tidying- like the droid didn't clean and tidy enough, so that there was almost never anything that needed to be done. He went to check himself in the mirror and fussed over his appearance. Then it was back to pacing.

He considered making himself a drink, and then decided against it- wanting to be fully present.

When Vector finally called for him, it took a lot of effort to not sprint to join him, though his pace was definitely hurried- though he paused as he reached the door, hesitating when he saw his eyes- their color was beautiful, but-

"Vector?"