[It's not like he's lost his Droid. Not this time, at least, and after last time he's pretty sure that BB-8 would come home from anything. Besides, almost all hands were on deck for the repairs on the legendary Falcon, still in the air despite the loss.
It's a strange feeling. He doesn't- didn't- know Han Solo all that well. Not comparatively. But he knew the General, and his parents knew everybody. They talked about them like you'd talk about family. He understood that, with his squadron he understood it now better than ever. Almost enough the years he went without seeing his parents faces for longer than a week or two seemed forgiveable. They'd lost a hell of a lot more than a symbol. But they'd gained-
His fingers skate along one of the Falcon's struts as he pokes his head around, looking for a telltale roll. Plenty of people at work, but no custom Droid to be found. The hatch was open, though, and it was inviting, even if this ship wasn't exactly his kind of ride.
He takes a single breath before he ascends, like crossing a church mantle, footsteps more even and less rushed than usual. Inside is a mess, too, and honestly he's a lot more pilot than he is mechanic but even he knows it's going to take a lot of work. So he's not surprised to see his Droid lending a hand. He's a little more surprised to see who he's lending a hand to. Not that it shows. He doesn't get starstruck by Jedi. Even pretty ones.]
There you are- [He'a kind enough to make sure her head isn't in a place that jerking back will earn her a nasty bump, that she's not doing anything too delicate with her hands. Attention to detail was important.]
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It's a strange feeling. He doesn't- didn't- know Han Solo all that well. Not comparatively. But he knew the General, and his parents knew everybody. They talked about them like you'd talk about family. He understood that, with his squadron he understood it now better than ever. Almost enough the years he went without seeing his parents faces for longer than a week or two seemed forgiveable. They'd lost a hell of a lot more than a symbol. But they'd gained-
His fingers skate along one of the Falcon's struts as he pokes his head around, looking for a telltale roll. Plenty of people at work, but no custom Droid to be found. The hatch was open, though, and it was inviting, even if this ship wasn't exactly his kind of ride.
He takes a single breath before he ascends, like crossing a church mantle, footsteps more even and less rushed than usual. Inside is a mess, too, and honestly he's a lot more pilot than he is mechanic but even he knows it's going to take a lot of work. So he's not surprised to see his Droid lending a hand. He's a little more surprised to see who he's lending a hand to. Not that it shows. He doesn't get starstruck by Jedi. Even pretty ones.]
There you are- [He'a kind enough to make sure her head isn't in a place that jerking back will earn her a nasty bump, that she's not doing anything too delicate with her hands. Attention to detail was important.]