Anakin wasn’t so much as closed off as he waited until he trusted a person before explaining himself, or spoke of details. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, with little regard to what other concluded about that, much to the eternal exasperation of all the other Jedi of the Order. But he rarely ever explained why to them, even Obi-Wan. He knew the answers they would give, he’d learned them all quickly his first month in the Temple – eschew all attachments and let everything go. In other words, quit whining.
Needless to say, that didn’t work for Anakin, and he had, despite their strong objections, found outlets for his emotions outside the Force. After months of considering his actions leading up to his fall he’d come to the conclusion his emotions and the need to express them had not been the crux of his problem. His problem had been that he’d opened up to the wrong person.
Here, things could be different. There were no Sith or Dark Jedi lurking over his shoulder ready to tempt him to the Dark Side. He could trust Padme and Helena not to abuse the dependence he placed in them.
He stepped back from the bike. It was starting to look more like the impressive machinery it had been during his first meeting with Helena, though with parts still stacked on the work table he had some ways yet to go. Leaning against the table he wiped his hands on a rag, though it didn’t do much good. He gave up when he realized his hands were as good as they were going to get.
He crossed his arms, trying to find the right way to bring this up. He wanted to say ‘No’, but even he knew that sounded petulant. And there was a chance Padmé wouldn’t appreciate him talking about their situation. But he needed to talk to someone. Had not their stubborn insistence that they could handle their situation all on their own been to their detriment last time? In the end that memory won out.