albinomilksnake | STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

Thank you. [Said small to the droid for the tape. She picks at it until she finds the seam, pinches the end and strips a long piece from the roll with an obnoxious shrrrk!]

The two of us and every other Resistance mechanic. [It's clipped, habitually brusque. She looks at him over the curve of the roll and bites the strip of tape free.] Until tomorrow, I think. Early. The ion impulse regulator's still offline, so there's a half day on that to get the rear drive back in shape.

[And then she's wrapping the stripoed section of wire with insulation tape - quick and efficient and as even coverage as it needs to be.]

[BB-8 is two seconds too late popping a cutting tool out of one of his silver panels, intending to help by cutting the insulation tape to length, but Rey has already torn through it with her teeth. The droid looks between Rey and its extended arm before warbling something akin to oh...neeeevermind and retracting the outstretched tool.

He starts to do another pass around the deck to find the next useful thing, but remembers something and stops mid-way. Wobbling a bit side to side, he chirps and whistles, reminding Rey that it'd be worth running diagnostics on the hyperdrive. Artoo seemed to think it'd save everyone a lot of trouble.]

[That little bit of gratitude goes a long way in making his impression of her even more positive. Plenty of people didn't treat druids with much respect or appreciation. Like they thought since it was their job they didn't deserve consideration.]

Quick. Where'd you learn to fix ships?

[He crouches down then, hand to the top of BB's head. Gently swivels it with his palm, smiling easily.]

Well pal, seems like you could manage that.

[If BB-8 had eyelids--or eyes, for that matter--he'd be blinking at Poe.

Of course he could manage a diagnostics run on the hyperdrive, in theory. It's just a matter of finding the right port. He is an astromech, after all. But the Falcon is nothing like the X-wings he's used to interfacing with; it's older, and bigger, and BB-8 is rather small. The droid makes half a beep, the start of a response, before stopping suddenly.

He stares at Poe for another moment, then swivels his head sharply towards Rey, stares, swivels back. Repeats this motion a few times, dubiously. But of course, if Poe wasn't here to help, or to talk about Important Things...

BB-8 chirps, if you say so, and rolls off towards the cockpit, which seems like the most logical place to have a port for the hyperdrive.]

[It's a perfectly fair suggestion and a good place to start work next, really. They'd need the hyperdrive in perfect working order and part of her, the part intimately familiar with the modifications the Falcon had been settled with, wants to check it herself. But-- BB-8 knows what he's doing and anything that pings back wrong she can check. More than likely half the fixes that needed to be made would be out of the droid's reach anyway. Inconvenient, she thinks, putting so many access panels in the ship's subfloor where he couldn't easily reach.

But she also doesn't miss the droid's moment of indecision. That has her squinting, brow lowering by a degree. She looks between the two of them and slowly secures the last wire with the insulation tspe as BB-8 rolls off.]

I took a lot of things apart on Jakku. [She unsticks her fingers and fits the cover back onto the eletrical compartment. Easy enough. Hefting herself out of the hatch, Rey squirms along the grating and eventually gets a foot under herself. Her hands are black with grease and there's a smudge on her cheek from where she bumped it across her hand while using her teeth on the tape.] This is just doing it the other way around.

[Maybe, if they were alone, he would play up how insulted he was. Ask what the little Droid was suggesting. But they weren't, and he doubted very much she'd be the kind of girl to find that sort of thing cute. Instead he shoots BB-8 an aborted little salute as he rolls into the cockpit.

He did want her alone, to be fair. To be more fair, his intentions were far from impure.]

Hey- [He turns his face back to her as she pulls herself up, moving with a kind of practiced ease that made it clear nothing about what she'd said was false. The expression on his face shifts into something a little more serious, not quite the focus he applied to piloting, nothing quite so sharp, but without any veneer.]

You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but if you ever want to talk about what happened- you know, when they captured you, I'm here. I figure if someone else would get it-

[He shrugs soft. Easy, slides his gaze off to give her time to think. He'd been thinking about it. A bit. He hadn't spoken to anyone else about it, even though they'd tried. And they probably would have kept trying if things hadn't been so desperate. If the General wasn't so wrapped up, she'd probably have insisted.

But everyone had bigger things to worry about. Him too, when he wasn't sleeping.]

[If there's something she expects from a stranger-- from a friend of Finn's, sure, but still just a man in an orange jumpsuit and an inflatable pilot's jacket --, it's not that. It catches her off guard, has her blinking: away and then back at him, something wide and open in her expression.

What does she know about Poe Dameron? That he was a friend of Finn's. That he was BB-8's master. That he was an excellent pilot. That something had happened to him on Jakku, and then he'd almost died but he-- hadn't. What's he suggesting, exactly? She leans down, catches the grating and wrenches it back into place to cover the access channel.]

You were captured?

Edited 2015-12-28 07:59 (UTC)

[He is, in a way, surprised she doesn't know. But then again, would it be the first thing Finn told his new friend? That his old friends- that's unfair. They weren't any friends of his- captured and tortu- that they took the information from him they needed and we're going to kill him before he helped him escape?

No, not good conversation. Not for anyone. So her surprise makes sense. That very young look on her face.]

Yeah. That's where I met Finn. They uh- wanted the map, and I was the last person who had it. Before BB-8.

[Wrong place, wrong time. Or wrong man. He'd given them what they wanted eventually. Even though he was supposed to be the best man for the job. The only mission he'd ever failed. If it weren't for Finn, and this girl. Rey. The new Jedi.]

He's not a very gracious host.

[He figures it's obvious enough who he means. Kylo Ren. The General's only son. A ghost that haunted the halls of the Resistance as long as he'd been a part of it.]

[Kylo Ren. That's the only person he could mean, the only person who had tried to ply her for what she knew of the map. He's the last person she wants to think about - his face, his hand on his lightsaber, the shape of him on the bridge set against Han Solo's before, how he'd looked at her past his outstretched hand with his fingers twitching like he wanted her throat more than what lay inside her head. It makes her blood run cold, prickles the small hairs at the back of her neck. Some part of her goes swimming at the thought of him - untethered and wild and viciously angry for a hundred things including, maybe, the part where he must have hurt Finn's friend Poe Dameron. It puts a bitter taste in her mouth like standing too near an ion coil. She blinks rapidly. Something behind her eyes stings and she doesn't want to think about what that is.]

No. He isn't.

[She bends, fetches the roll of insulating tape from the deck, and moves with purpose toward the cockpit after BB-8.]

[He wants to ask her. He wants to ask if she talked. Like the shuttering hot and cold expression on her face wasn't enough for him. Even though he told her she didn't have to say anything.

She didn't. She didn't, not like him. If she had the First Order would have what they wanted. They wouldn't be waiting for the falcon to be fixed. They'd send their fastest pilot- him, and Leia would trust him with it even if- to bring Luke back before Kylo Ren and his master found him. So she didn't talk.

It should be easier to accept that it was just how it was. She was a Jedi, and he was just a damn fine pilot.

He doesn't say anything. Just let's her pass before he stands to trail after her, expression falling back into place. She'd talk to him if she wanted to. He'd offered, at least.]

[BB-8 is just trundling through the door as Rey moves to enter the cockpit, a combination of variables that results in a slight collision. BB-8 isn't moving fast enough to even knock Rey off balance, though the droid itself rocks backwards slightly after the impact with her legs, making a high pitched sound of surprise.

Tilting his head back, he looks up at Rey and trills a brief apology before moving aside. He did manage to find a port through which to interface with the Falcon, and discovered that the hyperdrive is in good condition, though needs some calibration, according to the ship's computer. He conveys this in a drawn out series of warbles and whistles, his head rotating to look towards the instrument panel, then back towards Rey and Poe.

Nuanced facial expression isn't something a droid can even attempt, and as such the droid just appears to stare blankly, more so at Poe than Rey.]

[The collision is, all things considered, totally minor - at least half her own fault. Rey makes a short noise of surprise, throwing her hands out to catch the droid though he's already rolled back, twisting away to accodomate her presence (and Poe's) in the small space.]

Good work, BB-8. [She's stepping around him, climbing into the co-pilot's seat to access one of the secondary panels. The blasé way she pulls up the panel's facing has everything to do with being comfortable with the components and nothing to do with an eagerness to leave the subject of Kylo Ren behind.]

This will be easier with three pairs of hands anyway. [She pushes her hand into the exposed circuits and wiring, feeling around with a pinched look on her face that smooths when her hand closes on-- there. Rey drags a square box and its countless attachments out into the open.]

BB-8, you take that-- [and then she's climbing over to stand on the other seat, popping a panel overhead. Reaching in, she's barely tall enough to find what she needs to.] --Here. Poe, I need your hand there. There's a lever. BB-8 can tell you when to crank it.

[He's well clear of the doorway when the two collide, as mild as it is, and he's not surprised to find the Droid successful- excited in it. He was a good partner, after all.]

Knew you could handle it.

[praise comes easy to him, even now, smile genuine enough even for someone who knew him well, and BB-8 certainly did.]

Aye-aye captain. [He sidesteps the Droid, easing into the space beside her, arm high to catch his hand where she'd pointed. He was no mechanic, but he was used to being an extra hand. Helpful was his middle name, and the x-wings were part of his squad, their state part of his responsibility.

Maybe he was nosy.]

Found it.]

Edited 2015-12-28 20:10 (UTC)

[There is a brief moment after Rey says "three pairs of hands" when BB-8 tilts his head down, as if looking at the hands he doesn't have, but as soon as the secondary panel is off, the droid simply rolls over to it to do his job.

After setting himself up with the box that Rey had pulled out of the mass of wires and circuitry, BB-8 beeps and whistles, double-checking that Rey is where that third pair of hands would be needed before starting a countdown to when Poe has to pull the lever.]

[Once she's certain he has the right lever, she's hopping down from the chair and making her way to-- yes, there, the primary maintenance panel is just there. She levers it open as well as BB-8 begins the countdown, sorting through fuses and wiring and coordinator compression boxes. Somewhere in here there's...]

There you are.

[She wrenches free the component she's looking for, turning it out from under a nest of wiring so she can see what she's doing. There's some tuning she can do during the countdown to the lever pull, but once the moment nears she readjusts, finds the right switch and waits, waits, waits--

And throw it in time with the pair of them to very little fanfare. Which is, technically, a good sign.]

[He keeps his fingers on the lever but cranes his head to watch her progress and the Droid's, only wrangling his focus back down tight when BB-8 gets close to the final countdown. His timing doesn't suffer any, and he cranks it at just the right time, raising his eyebrows when, apparently, nothing happens.]

Is that good? That's good, right? Right lever?

[From her to BB-8 and back again, fingers still hurried in the panel above his head.]

[BB-8 takes the opportunity of being interfaced with the Falcon to double check that everything--or at least everything he could detect--is functional, letting Poe's question hang in the air unanswered for a moment.

Then, without preamble, the droid warbles: You want to go into hyperspace to test it?

That indelible lack of nuanced expression is what BB-8 is counting on for the joke to succeed. He stares at Poe blankly.]

[It's good. She knows it is exactly in the moment. There's no smoke or sparks, for one, but she can feel how the hum in the box component she has changed by a degree under her hands. It's subtle, small, but she knows in her gut that it's right. That she was right. That they're on track. That they all know what they're doing here--

More or less.

She breathes out a noise that isn't a laugh for the droid's sense of humor, but is close - her mouth going all pinched and crooked, smile lost somewhere out of habit and recent low spirits. Rey jams the component back under the wiring, secures it, and then flips the panel closed.]

It's good. Between this and clearing out all the junk Plutt stuffed in, there shouldn't be any trouble staying inside hyperspace for as long as necessary. Right, BB-8?

[His hand stays firmly where it is even as the Droid teases, but as soon as Rey gives him the go ahead he drops it to point, very straight, at BB-8.]

Don't tempt me. This is the Millennium Falcon. Made the Kessel run in under twelve Parsecs. She may be a bit big for my tastes but this girl can move.

[It is a small bit of hero worship on his part. What kid who grew up on the stories of the rebellion against the evil empire didn't dream about getting to see the Millennium Falcon? To meet the heroes of the rebellion? He's grown up knowing they were real, that his parents were a part of it, but he'd never seen the Falcon in person. A tree back home in the yard was the closest he got to the legends until he'd been old enough to sign on.

He tips his head back to her catching up with the rest.]

Junk?

[The droid makes a sound not unlike a digitized imitation of laughter before agreeing with Poe about the Falcon. BB-8 was in it during Finn and Rey's daring escape, and got a good sense of it both right side up and upside down...and sideways.

BB-8 then agrees with Rey, confirming the systems check was all green as far as he could tell, and the droid disconnects from the attachments hanging out of the secondary panel.]

[There, a burst of something like satisfaction to hear the Falcon talked about with such admiration, to hear the chirping slew of beeping from the droid. It isn't pride - this isn't her ship - except for how it absolutely is. Maybe it's because she got the ship off Jakku (it got them off it), or being elbow deep in its guts a handful of times now with generally good success, or maybe it's just that there is something bouyant and pleasant about loving the same thing as someone else--

But it's good. She can't help the pleased flush that passes through her. Like breathing in raw oxygen. Like adrenaline behind the pilot's console. A short burst, but there anyway and that counts for something.

She wipes her hands on her pants and rescrews the panel into place.]

When we picked her up off Jakku - there were all these useless modifications. Absolutely garbage, really, but they've mostly been stripped out and replaced now. She's almost back to normal.

[He grins, chin tipping for the easy eager agreement. Fast ships and fancy piloting might have been almost the only thing he cared about but it's not like he was alone in that.]

That's what I thought.

[And that's a new bit of information. Finn's story was rushed and half complete at best, and he'd been more interested in Rey than anything else, not like he could blame him.]

What kind of wampa-brained idiot messes with perfection? Still, you ended up with a better ride out of that joint than I did. How long were you stuck there?

[BB-8 chirps, answering the question, though not before beeping at length about how he would've been sold for scrap if Rey hadn't saved him.

The droid extends its grabber arm and--somewhat clumsily--tries to shove the wires, circuitry, and the little box back into the secondary panel. When it's clear that he's not really made to restore order to such a tangled mass, he abandons the effort, rolling back away from the panel.

On the subject of being stuck on Jakku, though...

BB-8's attention pivots towards Poe and the question of how Poe got off that sandy junk planet gets twittered out in melodic binary.]

[With her own panel secure, Rey moves around (crawling across the co-pilot chair) to help BB-8 put the wiring and components back to right there.] Don't be so dramatic. I didn't save you, I just helped you out of a net.

[It's mild, said absently as she resecures the panel here. How long had she been on Jakku? Forever. Which isn't right, but it felt that way sometimes when she'd sat in the shadow of an AT-AT and watched ships leaving, jumping into the stratosphere and then space beyond while she'd been down below - no one, nothing but a grain of sand in the planet's desert.

She looks over her shoulder to Poe as she rescrews the panel. There's something like raw curiosity in her expression that aligns with the droid's chirping. It's a fair question, actually. From the sound of things, he'd survived a rescue and wreck with little.more than the clothes on his back - less than, given Finn's possession of his jacket.]

How'd you pay your way off the planet?

[Even if she'd wanted to ditch Jakku, she never would've been able to afford it.]

[Poe laughs as he extricate himself from the hatch, carefully tucking everything back into place.]

I know how long you were there, I was talking to my new friend.

[He's heard part of the story before, in so many words, but he still agrees. A net was a mess to a BB unit.]

He can be dramatic, but in this case he's definitely right. You saved his metal skin a dozen times over.

[He hums quietly at the question, turning to face her, hip propped against the chair and arms crossing loosely.]

I didn't. Not with money, anyway. I was wandering around that big sandbox with my brains all rattled around when I got snatched up by a silver tongued Blarina named Naka lit. He wasn't all that impressed with me until after I managed to outmaneuver some pirate types, which I guess was enough to convince him I wasn't completely crazy. [Bad day. He still kept remembering random pieces of it, all his memories a little sideways after the crash. It hadn't interfered with his flying anyway, which was all that mattered.]

His good will got me to a friend of his, who was sympathetic enough to get a crazy Resistance pilot off planet.

STAR WARS: possible spoiler warning

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