;; &* ( ᔕᕼᕮᕮᖇ ᑎᕮᖇᐯᕮ )

that’s it bb, play dumb && maybe you’ll still get away with it.

A TOUCH of a smile FLITS across sun-worn features as familiar chatter fills her ears. She’s felt so LOST here among the Resistance – some part of her had futilely hoped that she would walk onto the base and feel at HOME – and it’s nice to finally have some form of comfort amidst the noise. Finn still hasn’t recovered form his wounds enough to wake, and she’s spent the majority of her time at his bedside, only emerging when she needs to sleep or fetch food or meet with somebody.                  “BB-8!”  She has the impulse to race over and throw her arms around the unit, but two things hold her back. First off, it would be somewhat odd to hug a droid, and second, she’s being WATCHED. If course, it’s reasonable to assume that this is the famous Poe that she’s heard so much about, but that doesn’t lessen her WARINESS. She’s met a lot of people recently, and she’s reasonably sure that she’s rubbed most of them the wrong way. Introductions and small talk aren’t really her strengths,                   “Don’t worry. He likes you more.”                            “ – You shoulda seen him when                               he first saw Finn in your jacket.”  Fiercely loyal to a fault, that droid.               She can’t blame him; she is too.

      he’s never had anyone betray his trust so violently, no reason to be wary of the woman that stands before him. bb-8 trusts her, after all, and if she managed to override the skittish self-preservation protocols with her strength of character, that’s good enough in poe’s book.      “ i’m poe. ”      he offers, probably an unnecessary statement, but they’ve never been properly introduced, and the pilot is polite before anything. a hand is thrust forward as well, bb-8 happily chattering in the background.     “ --- poe dameron. ”

“Breathe.”

🌻 - Their Father 🌷 - Their Mother 🌟 - A Different Family Member 🐶 - A Pet 👊 - A Best Friend 👋 - A Friend 🔍  - An Acquaintance 🍼 - A Child (Theirs or Not) 🎭 - A Former Friend 👿 - An Enemy 📪 - A Neighbor 💘 - A Love Interest 👻  - Someone They Don’t See Often 💀 - Someone Deceased ☀️ - Someone who Can “Turn Lemons into Lemonade” ☔️ - Someone who Can “Turn Lemonade into Lemons” 🍀 - Someone Lucky 🍰 - Someone who Loves Food 🍜 - Someone who’s A Great Cook

          a transparent phantom that tentatively ghosts across springtime gates, the contentious asseveration solicitously bestows unadulterated reassurance unto the charismatic personage. a patently immaterial yet irrefutably palpable treasure that the incisive adolescent so ardently craved herself mere moment ago, it eternally holds the power to temporarily placate exceedingly vociferous thoughts that are frequently conceived by seemingly inexhaustible perturbation so that ephemeral tranquility can properly console uncharacteristically tempestuous minds. will this innocuous message manage to satiate the perennial concern that has undoubtedly compelled the eminent pilot to judiciously venture to a place where frangible threads of health are assiduously fortified? perhaps, but to what extent can only be soundly determined by the pertinent individual. 

     a small nod meets her words, a little jerk of a movement that seems to spur muscles into walking once more. ( alright is a relative term ).      “ thank you. ”      gratitude is such an ambiguous thing here ( thank you for the information? for taking care of him? for watching? for being here? ), but ambiguous or not, the emotion stands true as he takes a stance at the head of the pod, one shoulder supported by the wall as hands find their way to pants-pockets. perhaps it’s not entirely about the male still stuck in healing slumber’s embrace --- it’s about bb-8, the map and the mission he had failed to complete; a failure that still haunts him as sharply as finn’s injuries do now.      “ couldn’t sleep either? ”     the question falls after a breath of hesitation, sounds casually dropping from lips as almost all his words do even in the heat of high stakes conversation. 

please do not reblog this post if you are an rp blog with a star wars verse - we’ll make a separate post for that.

     His words caused an arched brow to raise, a small hint of amusement present, though it was at the very least visible, a bit of the usual tension in her shoulders releasing at his familiar presence. “Well hello to you too.” Leia managed to quip, turning her attention away from her holopad to meet his gaze. “I say that you must have too much time on your hands, Commander. Do you really want to spend an entire day painting? If you need something to do, we can always send you out on more missions.That or you can make me a proper office.” She jested, her gaze warming just in the slightest. “But if you really want to, we’ll make it happen. She could use a bit of pampering, it’s true.”

     it is not quite a smile that passes over the time-worn face, but poe deems the mission a success all the same ( if only by measuring the less caustic line of the general’s shoulders, and the lilt that shadows her reply ).    “ that she does, general --- ”    sure footsteps bring the pilot further into the office ( or rather what is a shadow of on ); the boxed lunch in hand is set upon one of the few clear places on her desk.  he does not sit while she stands; the respect for the woman before him running too deeply.    “ ---  but she’s just as functional without a shiny new job. only as good as her pilot, not her appearance, some might say. ”    the resistance, too, has better things to spend their limited funds upon than paint for fully functional x-wings, and poe is quickly losing momentum with the conversation --- the joke running thin too fast.    “ do you need anything? ”