@dmrn : â is your foot alright ? â
" oh, fuck off, dameron, " jyn scowls, shifting her injured foot out of his line of sight. despite her words, her tone is underlined with a hint of amusement ; though she usually only has disdain for the upper echelon of the alliance, dameron's all right : a good head on his shoulders, mostly gives decent orders, and doesn't take himself too seriously. as far as commanding officers go, he's likely one of the better ones, even if she wishes that she didn't have to work under anyone's thumb.
" it's fine, " she stresses. a strained ankle is nothing compared to what she's been through -- and, much to her chagrin, it'd been a rookie injury, too : a fucking pothole, of all things. she doesn't want to talk about it. she'd wrapped it with pilfered bandages she'd stolen from the medbay a few days ago ; with the pressure off of the weak joint, it's easy enough to ignore that the injury had happened in the first place . . . even if still hurts to walk. ( compartmentalization -- shove the pain deep down into the cave in her mind. ) " good enough for me to go out on the next mission. you better not be benching me. "









