“Sorry.” He say almost reflexively.
His smile falters a bit and he looks over his shoulder at the door to the examination room behind him. Please no one come through, he thinks to himself as he moves a bit closer to Kit. Laying his hand softly on the others arm in a - hopefully - reassuring gesture.
“Hey-” he starts, pausing as he tries to figure out the best way to word what he wants to say. “I’m sure you were uh - great out there. I mean, cause you are well - pretty great - and well…” he trails off a little wincing at his own words.
He spares another glance behind him at the door and turns back to Kit, quickly leaning down to place a chaste kiss against the spot above his brow now covered by the white bacta patch.
“Sorry, again.”
“Stop.”
Not the kisses, but the apologies. Maybe KT-1807 should learn to specify – for his skin is miserably cold, when Vox does heed him. Brow furrows. Lips drawn tight. He’ll look at the other man like he doesn’t understand what to make of the affection he received. They are careful. Always. so. careful not to overstep.
“Stop.” He repeats himself, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say to this Rough fingers find their way into golden curls, his grip too tight when he closes around them. It is the stammering, in part, that the trooper can't STAND. Vox's uncertainty evident in the way that he can never seem to find the right words. Praises are hastily offered, when KT-1807 is at his worst, and he is handled with such care -- an animal, where none can know if it might bite.
“It’s alright. You’re alright.”















