For a short moment the only thing he did was blink behind his mask, this instrument of both protection and enslavement that he was forced to wear for such a long time. Now...
Now there was no longer a 'true' reason to keep the device on his head. At least, it no longer needed to breath for him. The vocoder though, that he had gotten very much used to in the past twenty year.
"Defence has no point in my argument, doctor. Especially not if your assumption is wrong."
His angel liked his voice, how it moved like mothsilk over her skin once the sun lost its light behind the horizon. That was what his queen told him. That was what he believed.
And in no possible way could there be a chance that this voice of his youth would still be there. His vocal chords may not have been all that damaged, but still it changed enough to make him near to unrecognizable.
Instead of following the medic's order to leave her room, he stood up to find another screw driver. And maybe some copper wires.
"I'll leave once my maintenance is finished."
Not finding what he was looking for he returns to his previous seat, his eyes never leaving Stoker. He sighed. Vader did not care to find out if it was a sigh of regret or of slight anger.
"Smooth-talking was never my forte," he said, fully intending to blame any overly 'emotional' reactions on his recent surgery.