#orbjaewon

@orbjaewon

his bones hurt a little less with a lot more alcohol, and a person to keep him company. 

at this point, kirin can’t care any less if jaewon’s roommate comes in, or if anyone busts them for drinking. it’s not like they’re doing it on their stations, and besides, he believes that they’ve earned it, even a little bit. the bottle remains firmly in his hand and he swears it’s a little bit of alcohol that has stained the collar of his shirt, not tears and snot, and that his face is red because of his drink, not because he’s been crying on-and-off for the past five minutes to the tune of some somber song with alien lyrics he can’t pronounce. 

Growing up as a spacer andsmuggler, she cannot hope to remember all the lies she’s told and heardherself.  There are a few that stand outin her mind however.  For instance, thetime she lied straight to a First Order soldier’s face about the location ofher crew members, even when they burned her. Or the time she managed to convince several of the Hutts that two slavesthat she hadn’t helped two slaved that escaped—when she was the one that rippedout their slave trackers.  The lash markson her back still burned if Hyuna allowed herself to think about it toomuch.  None of them had been particularlygood lies, she was still punished for both. But what mattered to Hyuna was the fact she stood by them until theother party had no choice but to believe her.

Jackson doesn’t really often pay attention to other people, and he bothers with them even less, but there’s something about the way this particular guy threw the weapon away in frustration that struck something familiar inside of him. He recognised the frustration of not being able to manage whatever it is the man wanted managed. And so, in what appears to be his first willing, self-instigated interaction with the rest of the resistance, Jackson had gone over to the place where the weapon was left to pick it up and take it with him.

It had taken him a while, a few trials and errors, before he managed to find the issue and fix the entire weapon, but three days after picking it up initially, he’s ready to go return it to its owner. Of course, that’s an endeavour that takes him a little longer than planned because first he has to find said owner. But with a bit of help from the database and a facial recognition system, Jackson eventually finds out this particular guy’s usual home.

So, with the weapon in hand, he heads over to the other male’s usual whereabouts, hoping to run into him there. He seems to be in luck that particular day, because it isn’t very long before he spots the vaguely familiar face. Walking over to the guy, Jackson reaches out the weapon to him and nods once in greeting. “Here you go. I fixed it for you,” he speaks calmly, giving the other a once over with his eyes so he can recognise him should they meet again. “It should work properly again. Your trigger was jammed.”