it’s the first quiet moment wedge has found since they left naboo.
everything else has been a flurry of activity - getting organized, finding everyone space, clearing out some of the junk that was still in the falcon - and he’s tired. he often doesn’t show it, but like anyone else, there’s points where he feels stretched thin so close to breaking, but there is no time for breaking. so he finds himself a quiet area in the falcon, which means the corner of a hallway where no one treads unless they’re looking to just take in some quiet, legs stretched out against the floor of the falcon.
he knows who’s down the hallway with barely a glance. “you know, i thought the whole deal with this was that i wasn’t supposed to feel like my actual age.” fifty-five, now. and yet the war rages on. he never thought he’d be sixty years old and still fighting a war that is mostly about all the same things, just with some new players. but that’s how it’s looking.
and it’s vaguely depressing. “let’s take a vacation,” he offers. “me and you. some outer rim planet. the rules are no sand and nothing too humid.”