the man ain’t got no culture

The child trembled, his scrawny body curled in on itself to make him appear even smaller. There was no clear indication of how long he had been in the cell, but Imogen recognized the hardened gleam in the boy’s defiant glare. He experienced enough not to trust anyone who could open the locked door.

In those piercing eyes, the former Inquisitor recognized something else. A subtle strain at the edges of his features told Imogen that it took a massive effort to put on such a brave face. 

Imogen saw a faint resemblance of the girl she had struck down all those years ago. That child had been slightly younger than this one, and she had been so very afraid, yet she stepped into the path of Imogen’s blade anyway. As if that would spare her younger brother behind her from an Inquisitor’s wrath. Even children reach for the smallest victories. 

There was no one else this boy could protect besides himself. And even that was moot. The restraints on his wrists made what little he could use to defend himself obsolete. The boy knew it. Imogen knew it. Still, he scowled fiercely as if daring her to do her worst. 

Imogen grinded her teeth and glanced left, then right. The other troopers on the block were dead and the hallway lay barren. She should not bother with any diversions, but she thought that perhaps granting this child a chance — however meager — may begin to balance the scales. 

A chance was far more than she ever got at his age. 

With a twitch of her fingers, Imogen forced her mind into the inner workings of the binders and released them. They clicked open and clattered onto the cold durasteel floor at the young boy’s feet. He glanced down and then blinked back up at Imogen in shock. The unexpected act of kindness only seemed to make the child more suspicious of her, so Imogen took a step back and pointed down the hall. 

“That is the way out,” she said curtly. “I suggest you take your leave quickly.”

Imogen did not spare the child any words of comfort or even another glance before she turned on her heel and marched onward. She got several paces along until the gentle patter of a rushed gait behind her reached her ears, nearly drowned out by her own steady steps. 

As she turned back, she saw the young boy come to an abrupt halt a mere meter away, his eyes wide and suddenly desperate. 

“That way,” Imogen commanded and pointed in the opposite direction with more insistence. 

The boy stood with such an unfazed expression that Imogen wondered if he even understood Basic until he spoke up. “I… I have nowhere to go.” 

“The exit is a good start.” 

“What about after that?” He shuffled on his feet and stared into his now empty cell as if that were the most viable option. “I don’t even know what planet I’m on.” 

“That is not my concern,” she replied coldly. 

Before he could argue further, Imogen turned her back on the boy again and continued on. She did more for him than she should have and would certainly not burden herself further. If he lacked the basic intelligence to escape or even take care of himself then he would not last long in the galaxy anyway. 

“But you’re like me!” 

Those words stopped her short. Imogen hadn’t the faintest idea where this random child had gotten such a notion. Had the boy not wasted so much of her time already, Imogen would have found his claim amusing. 

“Is that so, child?” Imogen asked incredulously as she shot an impatient look over her shoulder once more. 

The boy reached out and suddenly Imogen’s blaster flew out of the holster at her side with surprising velocity. She only had a split second to react and catch it with her own mind before the weapon could land in the palm of a child no older than twelve. The blaster remained suspended in the air between them as Imogen took a moment to weigh the boy’s strength in the Force. His talent was no match for hers, but the pull she felt against her whispered of this boy’s potential. 

Seeing enough, Imogen wrenched the blaster free of the child’s influence and it floated into her gloved hand. She remained quiet as she returned it to its holster and regarded the boy with more interest. He clearly was no simple deviant the troopers had picked up off of the decrepit streets, but this revelation complicated things. Imogen had no desire for complications. 

“I’ve never met anyone like me,” the boy stated in wonder, his bright eyes shimmering like she was a beacon before him. 

Imogen should have known that her sins would be no easy task to atone for. 

She sighed heavily. If nothing else, she could pawn the child off on Cal once she returned to him. The pretentious Jedi could finally have more students. “Stay close. Do not get in my way. Do not speak unless spoken to.” 

The boy perked up and nodded emphatically. He trotted over to her like a pup. “My name is—” 

Distracted by her drawing, Andi looked up and quickly teleported onto the seat of the couch, dropping her sketchbook in the process. It already took enough out of her to move herself. “I saw that,” Natasha joked, leaning against the doorframe. Andi looked up at her after picking her sketchbook back up and nervously smiled. “Sorry,” she muttered as she stood up, holding it tightly against her chest. Natasha smiled back and shook her head. “Well, don’t leave on my account,” she spoke, already used to her skittish behavior, but part of her wished she would relax at some point. “Am I really that scary?” Andi looked away, wanting to avoid answering her question at all costs. Out of all the people in this world she met, she struggled with getting to know her the most. Andi could tell Steve was a good person just by looking at him, and was the closest thing to a friend here. He always looked out for her, and genuinely wanted to help. He helped her make the few good memories of this place. Bruce was nice and surprisingly patient to her despite his appearance, a lesson in not judging a book by its cover. Even if she didn’t exactly want his help with her powers at first, she felt like she was finally improving and almost enjoying their time training. Natasha, on the other hand, was hard to read and Andi always felt like she was upsetting her somehow. The others were more open and honest. “If you need space, it’s okay,” Andi explained, trying to make her feel better. “It’s alright,” Natasha reassured, sitting next to her. “It’s nice to have company again.”

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