Vader was used to being inspected. By Palpatine, by Jedi, by Moffs, by Generals, by Troopers, by Masters. He stood, as always, inscrutable, in the face of it.

"And you will follow." It's not a question. Vader turned on his heel, a lifetime of military training and precision driven into him and it was more natural than breathing. He didn't look back, didn't focus his hearing behind him. Kylo Ren would follow, he had no doubt and even Force Blind didn't concern himself with the idea of an attack from behind. Too many years of instinct telling him it was fine.

Instead, he lead, walking at a quick clip at least for a typical human - all it seemed he was capable of here - a path that wove easily through the market, no missteps or hesitation, Vader lying on memory solely and refusing to show doubt. Until they were on the edge of the market, and then further away. Into the jungle, through the underbrush and branches, up a tiny hill of a rise with a natural shallow dip. They had the high ground, with the ground making for a small natural cover and the ticket protecting them from others' sight so long as they kept their witts about them.

Only then did Vader stop and turn to face him.