Poe was glad to escort the small convey of out-of-Galaxy-ers to the caf. Glad to offer them food that probably was not the best this Galaxy had to offer, but it was better than rations cubes and water. He was seated across from them, the toe of his boot bouncing silently against a durasteel floor and his fingers idly tapping out a rhythm upon his thigh.    Holden, his nervous energy, was palpable and if Poe hadn’t become used to the nervous vibrations rolling off of nearly everyone he came into contact with–and maybe if he weren’t strung out on fatigue–he might have acquired some of that nervousness too. For what it was worth, he couldn’t blame Holden. Entering in to the middle of confrontation and being immediately dragged to one side was as daunting without information, as sticking your head in a hole that may or may not contain a sarlaac. They were safe now, officially under the protection of at least one Resistance fighter.    Inhaling slowly, the pilot tilted his head one way and the other, humming thoughtfully before he finally let the his bouncing leg still.   “Well, that is a pretty long history to catch up on over supper–or breakfast–or whatever meal it is you’re currently dining on.” He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, the gesture was almost slowed down to ensure at least the big guy didn’t go reaching for his gun. “There isn’t really a short story to explain what’s going on here sooo~” Drawling and setting his arms to fold across themselves on the table, he smiled. “I’ll—Explain what I can. So this entire galaxy has been host to a number of pretty nasty wars, makes sense. Anywhere civilization is, there are going to be opinions and differing opinions. Within the last give or take little under a century, there had been a couple of pretty bad regimes that’ve cropped up with intent to pretty much hold the galaxy hostage or to clean it up. You don’t agree with their power tripping? You’re dead.” He shrugged and continued.     “Current opposition is the First Order, before them, there was this fancy regime called the Empire. Before them we had the Republic and the Separatists–on and on. So some force-happy sleemo got his hands on another force-capable dirtbag, engineered this rise to power because they’ve got the magic touch, or whatever you want to call it–” Poe wiggled his fingers and heard BB8 chirp an exasperated sound. He glanced down and laughed. “Yeah, I’m telling the story, buddy. I don’t think they’ve quite got what you’re saying.” The droid purred an indignant noise and Poe laughed again. “Soon, pal. Where was I–Oh right, space woo woo, mystic powers whatever. So this guy rises to power and he starts killing all of these other force-capable people, probably because he’s scared of being de-throned, but I don’t take much interest in the force and how it works for the light or dark side. I’m a pilot, I fly things. Anyway, those guys were defeated by the Resistance’s predecessors, the Rebellion. You can tell we’re really good at naming things.” He winked and he looked between Bobbie, Amos, Alex, and Holden, but he held his gaze mostly on the nervous man in an effort to try to sooth his nerves.    "My parents, the general, her brother, and her husband all thought that when they took down the Empire and its dark-side regime, their antics would come to an end. It is a vain hope, but they thought peace might reign for a little bit. Obviously where you’ve got light, you’ve got shadow too. Well, not every single Empire person was detained, or killed. In the shadow there were some pretty furious officers that decided they wanted to try again. No surprise there. Up until just a little while ago, we were living in relative peace under the new Republic’s order. Nobody expected another galaxy-wide war to just crop up thirty-ish years after the last thing had been put down. But here we are. Resistance verses the First Order. Light verses Dark. They call us terrorists, but we just want peace and freedom.“    When he was finished, Poe unfolded his hands and knocked his knuckles on the table between himself and the Sol-System visitors. "You don’t gotta get yourself tangled up in this fight.” Poe offered, his expression was sincere and colored with concern. “A lot of good people have died in the  name of peace, a lot of good people are going to die in the name of peace. We’ll take whatever help we can get, but if you aren’t from around here and if you aren’t planning on staying, we can’t rightfully ask you to put your lives on the line for our fight.”

Watching Tivan with the sort of acute awareness that kept him (along with the helpful chatter from BB8) and his X-Wing flying, he straightened some as the cotton-haired male rose and approached him. He looked so familiar, similar in features to... Poe chewed his tongue and dared not suggest that maybe Tivan and DJ were from similar origins. Not when Knowhere was so far away... But maybe when he'd assumed DJ was from nowhere, it had actually been Knowhere. "You got a twin?" He finally managed, holding out the kyber piece with a soft cloth curled around it for fear of somehow tainting the crystal. "Go ahead--it's real. The kyber, I mean. It's real."

“Weren’t you at this when I left earlier?”

    An argument was brewing on the tip of his tongue as Whiskey informed him that he weren't indeed all right. The pilot did not need to be told how he was and wasn't feeling, but the fact of the matter was, Whiskey knew. Whether or not Poe tried to bury the feeling, Whiskey knew and that bothered Poe. Instead of letting that show, he lifted his head and grinned almost too broadly at Whiskey.    "Yeah, you pull that kind of stunt again, and I might have to shoot you." Glancing toward the data pad, he nodded once and folded his hands in his lap. Worth it for the intel, maybe. He couldn't be upset about results.

    The pilot watched with the faintest arch of his brow as Anasiah wrestled with her thoughts, grease-coated hands coming to rest against his hips as he considered the young woman. At her indication to drop the previous subject, and onward to offering assistance in working on his baby, Poe glanced toward the chaos of disheveled pieces and shook his head.    "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really like other people working on my X-Wing. And again, not tryin' to be offensive, but I can't imagine a kid working seriously on thousands of light fighters. Just doesn't sound safe. But thanks, I appreciate the offer of assistance. This is just a side-project. Seriously though, you good? Maybe you need something to eat? Some sleep?"

"Uh." It was probably going to make him sound like an idiot, but he couldn't read the writing on the card. "I don't... Can't read this." Flipping the card between his fingers, he motioned to the writing. If BB8 were with him, it might have been able to decipher the scrawl, but this wasn't Aurebesh... Or close to anything he'd ever read before. "Actually, y'know what? I'll just hike back, it's fine. Thanks for the help, pal."

              But your eyes…                             It doesn’t show in your eyes.                                 That’s how I can tell,                                     Those eyes have seen things.

Plane crash... Or rather, light fighter, because X-Wings were a little more intuitive and practical than Earth fighter jets. And then a fist fight, because he didn't quite take to mean mugging, gun toting thugs trying to get their hands on his stuff when he was only asking around for directions. Watching the motion for him to settle back down, Poe pursed his lips but eventually let himself slid to sit back down against a dingy wall. "I'm not gonna bust a hip." The pilot scoffed but he took the tissue that was offered and delicately worked it over his wounds to clean himself up. "Sorry, what?" Glancing back up, he blinked twice and shrugged. "Didn't ask for their names, wasn't aware I'd be playing twenty questions with some jumped up--albeit generous--punk a little while after."

   "Finn--hey, buddy."   Sliding into the spot beside the other man, he set a hand against Finn's shoulders and offered him one of those genuine, golden grins. "I'm going to be heading out here in a little bit... Mission I'm on is a lot of waiting for something to happen. I was wondering if, I dunno, maybe you wanted to come along?" His shoulders rose and they fell, that brightness in his expression unyielding and warm. "There're some nice places I'd like you to see, but only if you're interested. No pretty to go if you'd rather not."

   "Ever been this deep into the Outer Rim, Diana?"     As Poe spoke, he moved through the start-up systems procedures as if the complex systems checks were second nature--for him, they were. "There's a lot of trouble from pretty much every direction." Glancing back at her with a small, amused grin, he shrugged. "But don't worry, you're with me. We'll be good." He was more than aware of her skill and ability, but the pilot would not force her to out herself as force-adept or otherwise, and he would not rely exclusively on that skill either. It was useful, but she wasn't a pawn.    "Good food though."

"Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot." He was having a rough time of it, trying to blend in with a world and culture he had absolutely no information about. "You done staring or--" gingerly pressing the sleeve of his shirt to his nose, Poe tried to wipe blood away without starting it bleeding again.

  Poe approached the taller man, a blanket draped over one hand and a mug of something warm and faintly herbal scented in hand. "Y'know running yourself ragged doesn't do you any good." He murmured and approached Keith, an arm curling lightly around him in a short but longing-for-contact embrace. "What can I help you with the make sure you get done faster so you can nap?"

Like for a tiny starter~