albinomilksnake | STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

Yeah. [It makes sense, that she'd take off. After everything they've been through--mission or not-- he gets it: she was always centered, always focused, the counterweight to how off-balance his entire life had been before this point, but that doesn't mean she's immune to grief or pain. The stress of a collapsing world and the loss of a friend. A hero.

There's scarring in it, he bets, and if she needs the rest of her life to lick those wounds, it's fine.] Yeah, I kinda figured she bolted.

[It's fine.]

How are you holdin' up, huh?

[Bolted? No, no. The droid trills, insisting that Rey will be back. She has a mission of her own, but she'll return. She promised, though perhaps not in so many words.

After chirping those assurances, BB-8 pauses, as if Finn's question requires actual consideration. The droid wobbles side to side, warbling pleasantly, better now is the implication.]

[Times like these they both ought to be wishing he spoke-- well, understood droid. The clarification whizzes past as some assumed portion of its immediate response: no angry beeps, no irritated gestures, it's easy to get the idea.] Good to know.

Then again, I figure anything that isn't lying in bed for a week is doing great, so there's that, too. [When he was a kid he used to dream about a few extra hours of rest before PT, now he'd kill someone for the ability to get up and stretch without feeling like he's about to come apart at the seams.

Nobody told him how bad the damage was; honestly, at this point he doesn't need to know.]

[It's not really within BB-8's abilities to tell whether or not Finn is well enough to even sit upright, let alone move--though even if it could, Finn only seemed to understand half, or less than half, of anything BB-8 said.

The droid tilts its head to one side as it looks at Finn, thinking. After a moment, it rolls slightly backwards and pivots to face the medical droid, addressing it with yet more indecipherable warbling. The med droid's rattling response was less than unhelpful, the gist of it being that BB-8 should stop bothering "the patient" and let it and the doctors do their work.

Well, it was worth a try, anyway. Turning back towards Finn, BB-8 makes an apologetic--if somewhat chagrined--sound.]

Hey, don't worry about it. [Honestly it could have been worse. Way worse. Dead and gone, wiped out with the last of his old life in one clean, grizzly second. All the things he never thought he'd be able to stare down on his own suddenly insignificant compared to the idea of losing Rey the way he'd already lost Han.

His knuckles, still draped over the side of his medical bed, give an encouraging little tap to the droid's cylindrical chassis.] I made it this far already. I'm not planning on giving up now.

[And then the idea comes to him:] --can you carry more than datachips in there?

[BB-8 nods excitedly, swiveling its body around to open one of the silver panels. A couple of vacuum-sealed, dehydrated food cubes fall out, propelled forward slightly by how tightly packed they were in the compartment that was clearly not made for storing food packs.

Ah yes, that was why BB-8 came down here in the first place. He can't carry anything of considerable size, but he makes it work.]

Woah. [Blinking a couple of times for good measure, Finn reaches over (carefully, and mostly from his elbow rather than his already strained shoulder) to pinch one of the packets between two fingers. Compared to the straight up service models they kept around on Starkiller, BB-8 was practically a phenomenon.

A weird, charmingly round little phenomenon.]

Gotta admit, it's actually a little weird watching a droid vomit up real food. [Said not without gratitude, for whatever it's worth.]

[BB-8 swivels his body around and uses his grabber arm to pick up a few of the dropped food packs, setting them on the edge of the cot in a neat line, chirping softly as each one is carefully aligned with the others.

It was the only thing BB-8 could think to do to help Finn, really. Dammit man, he's a mechanic, not a doctor.

Once the food packs are arranged accordingly, the droid gives a perfunctory nod, satisfied. But his attention doesn't linger on his handiwork, soon replaced upon Finn's question about his carrying capacity. Regardless of Finn's ability to understand the "words," BB-8 beeps inquisitively, asking about it.]

It gets real boring in here, sleeping all day every day. [Sometimes without waking up once, though as the meds draw back, he figures they'll lessen the dosage; they have already from what he can tell.

After a half a minute spent working up the strength, Finn lifts his arm from the elbow down (mostly listless) to catch a packet between his fingertips, fumbling clearly with his attempts to pinch it open.] Just need some entertainment. Maybe a vid or two.

--you guys have those, right? It's not just a First Order thing.

[BB-8 makes a few affronted noises, cocking his head back as if insulted by the prospect of the First Order having anything close to superior technology than the Resistance. Of course they have vids.

To prove it, BB-8 aims his hologram projector above Finn and plays one of the stored vids he has in his internal storage--which ends up being an old recording of one of Poe's many aerial battles.

Granted, it doesn't do much to prove the existence of vids for entertainment, but BB-8 was never used to store fictional movies.]

Huh. [It's not exactly stellar entertainment, but it is fascinating, watching his friend pull off the sort of crazy stunts even seasoned veterans would think twice about leaping headlong into. Holds his focus for a little while, ignoring the way one of the medbots swivels its (innately) disapproving head towards the both of them.]

You got anything else in there?

[The droid chirps his assent, flipping through--metaphorically--the admittedly small database of video files he has stored.

Yet again, no movies to speak of, nothing entertainment-specific...but he plays another vid nonetheless.

The hologram lights up and Poe's face flickers into view, clearly pressing some button on BB-8's interface before sitting back a bit to address the recorder. He seemed to be a few years younger than his present self, his hair tousled from wearing his x-wing helmet.]

Hey buddy, what've you been up to? [The recording wobbles slightly and the tinny sound of BB-8 chirping accompanies the movement.]

That's great, glad to see you're getting along with the others. Wouldn't want to make waves this soon after being reassigned, right?

[Another wobble, another digitized answer.

Poe starts to speak again, but BB-8 pauses the vid, beeping with some degree of uncertainty and perhaps embarrassment at playing one of Poe's old journal entries. It's not the kind of thing that makes for very good entertainment, and he isn't sure he should even still have them. It's been a while since Poe's even used BB-8 to record anything, as there hasn't really been time.]

[He can't help but smile as he watches the recoding, lazy in his focus, but clearly more content than he'd have been otherwise. Probably more than he's been in a long while. Something about seeing a familiar face that he trusts-- admires-- right there in front of him, even if it's only a holographic recording. It's not until the feed stops in it's loop that Finn's attention drifts down to the little unit instead, curling a few fingers to wave him on.] No, no, no, don't stop. This is good - I like it.

[BB-8 hesitates for a moment, not really sure that it's his place to show the vid log, but if it helps Finn, then...Poe would probably say that's a good thing, right?

The log is from some years prior, when Poe joined the Resistance and was given the rank of commander. Poe’s image smiles and sits back on his heels, puffing out his cheeks with a sigh. He’s clearly thinking about something before he responds to the last comment from BB-8.]

I think they’re sending us out recruiting on some Outer Rim planets next time. Gotta get more pilots on our side, you know? Then again, we could be on reconnaissance duty, or...

[He shifts to sit cross-legged on the floor, running a hand through his tousled curls. Was there ever a time when Poe’s hair wasn’t stylishly tousled? Not since BB-8’s known him.]

 ...Eh, we’ll get the job we get and do it and pass with flying colors. Prove that the General’s decision to bring me on was right.

[The recording tilts again with BB-8’s response and Poe laughs, his grin broadening.] You can say that again, buddy.

[He can't prop an arm under his head as he watches (wounds too fresh, exhaustion still written across his expression) but the sentiment's there, anyway. Finn watches, still entirely transfixed by the flickering images, yawning only once or twice tops when the medical cocktail they've got him on tries to put him under yet again. Instead he picks up the unopened packet he'd been toying with, holding it out to BB-8 to let the little guy do what he does best: open food containers.] Okay, new mission, BB-8: if I'm stuck in here for the next couple of weeks, we're gonna need a lot more vids.

...and if some of those happen to be Poe Dameron's, you won't hear me complaining.

[With the feed cut off, the hologram flickers once and disappears, BB-8's attention turning to the proffered food packet. He extends one of his tool arms, utilizing what are probably wire cutters to open the package for Finn.

And, as if Finn can even understand him, the droid beeps something along the lines of "why don't I just bring Poe to visit?" If BB-8 has the spare time to dote on Finn, surely Poe would as well. It's not like Poe is going to leave his copilot behind so if BB-8 is on base, so is Poe. Usually.]

Hey, I'm glad we're on the same page, too, buddy. [Which means Finn definitely didn't catch the jist of those looping beeps, already plucking up the dehydrated packet and sneaking a handful of chips of-- something into his mouth. Fruit maybe? The rations back on Starkiller were vitamin based blocks and slurries, designed for keeping the cadets fit and functional. Flavor, on the other hand, was the least of their concerns: everything else in comparison practically explodes with taste he's never really known.]

[BB-8 tilts his head and gives another questioning chirp, unsure. Does that mean that Finn does want Poe to visit, or is that just an "I don't know so I'll just agree" sort of answer?

Knowing Finn the way he does, it's probably the latter. And yet...would anyone honestly say no to a visit from Poe Dameron?

The droid beep-hums, a hand-wave like "nevermind" or "it's ok" before turning his attention towards a few other food packs. He uses his already extended clipping tool to snip a small notch into the corners of the packets to serve as a starting point for Finn, glad that his little gifts are finally being put to use.]

STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

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WINGING IT

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