[He's not fond of it. Fighting always puts him on edge, draws something out of him that's more heat and anger than conscious effort or want. Reactive, volatile, nauseating at best.
There's blood seeping into the snow of Hoth. Crimson coursing out from beneath the crumpled bodies of Republic soldiers and Jedi, Imperial and Sith alike. It's a mirror image of destruction that he blatantly ignores as he fixates on the blinding blue flash of a consular's saber, cutting a wide arc less than an inch from his brow. His mind is a blank slate of emotion. He's forgotten why they've even come in the first place, regardless of the thorough briefing he'd received beforehand.]
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BATTLE TIME IS GO
There's blood seeping into the snow of Hoth. Crimson coursing out from beneath the crumpled bodies of Republic soldiers and Jedi, Imperial and Sith alike. It's a mirror image of destruction that he blatantly ignores as he fixates on the blinding blue flash of a consular's saber, cutting a wide arc less than an inch from his brow. His mind is a blank slate of emotion. He's forgotten why they've even come in the first place, regardless of the thorough briefing he'd received beforehand.]