Thera Pardalis

Cody doesn't speak, not wanting to risk his distinct, low pitched timber to be recognized as a clone's voice. Although his comm link is off, he's cautious, remaining silent while she speaks to the Trade Federation. The use of a manners as simple as 'please' fills Cody with hope. Humanoids can be reasoned with or intimdated. In comparison the droids are loyal to a fault. He'd rather talk to someone organic than metallic any day.

Thankfully they both have enough technological know how to keep the Trade Federation distracted and busy. The length speech and noticeable delay should by them some time to further asses, and further refine their last minute plan. Although Cody prefers to plan well in advance sometimes expected problems require sudden solutions.

Plus, again, it's all time for the Republic ships to gain more ground. Comm channels come to life, warnings broadcast, orders given, and Thera wonders if the approaching enemy will actually run. They're from the Trade Federation, who are notoriously better at blockading civilians than engaging in battle.

Amber lights on the console turn green as Cody preps his guns, and Thera reaches across to activate the second turret and the missile bays. They're in the rear of the ship, but if she focuses she still feels the tremor as they lock and load. "The smaller ships are hiding behind the frigates," She murmured, and made her choice. "I'm going in behind them, Cody - fire at will!"

Send Lore Drop! And I will talk about lore or a head canon regarding my muse.

She wasn’t… flashy, exactly, but there was a rightness to the way she stood, the strength in her arms, the lines of her neck and jaw made sharper by the dark cascade of her hair. The Resistance may have been scraping the bottom of the barrel, but at least the company stayed interesting.

He realized he’d paused mid-application, like some swooning adolescent in a holodrama, and hastily resumed his work, using his hand to smear a streak of Koensayr motor oil across the bracing of the engine nacelle.

He had a bottle of water somewhere, and after a few unnecessarily strenuous pulls at the wrench (and making sure she noticed), Poe reached for it with a little exaggerated, shoulder-shrugging stretch. The movement pulled his own flight jacket wide open, not just the standard-issue shirt beneath, but the zip of it nudged down so it gaped at throat and collarbone, dropping a bead of sweat down his chest.

Useful ones from time to time, in her disguise as a dancing girl or undercover on a casino floor - but other times a distraction, one she kept mostly covered when matters were serious and she needed people to remember her eyes were up here.

So she knew exactly what she was doing as the jacket was hung on the repulsorlift holding her tools, a sudden hiccup of laughter caught and pushed down by tongue behind lower lip. That oil was going to melt if he wasn't careful.

She turned her head, smooth, ponytail brushing her shoulder and face ready to say she saw him looking. But Poe had already broken his own trance - and countered. Thera let the moment hang, watching openly and with a smirk that wasn't so easy to subdue.

Perhaps William has, indeed, agreed to this a bit too quickly, all things considered - he's not one to do such things on the regular, after all, prefers to stay within what feels predictable to him, a constant each-day-the-same that feeds into what he has put upon himself... and what the world has, subsequently so. His own actions, really.

Yet getting to interact with someone is apparently changing some things, has him consider to break out of his rituals for once. The suggestion of going on a winery tour, however, has discomfort rise almost immediately; Might not be as bad as he imagines it to, he's certainly one to enjoy a good glass of wine every now and then, but... well.

A minibus is not his preferred vehicle to stay within for an extended period of time. Too small, too tight.

Will's jaw works as he takes in the text messages that appear on his phone, one after another, and he feels a pang of relief washing through him when Thera suggests for another activity - a walk around the neighborhood, maybe try a local cafe. Good. Much better.

[txt: Thera] I haven't gone for a walk in quite a while. Might be good for me to get some exercise in, as much of a casual kind of exerise as it might be.

[txt: Thera] Could combine it with that cafe visit.

He hopes she'll understand and not feel too put-off by him not agreeing to the winery-thing. He has his reasons, and they're, unfortunately so, quite serious in nature.

One corner of her lips twitches up, not at what he's agreed to but what he's left out. Thera doesn't have anything close to the full picture of how William 'works', of the way things connect in his head; she wouldn't mind a wager on PTSD, but it's not for her to really know. She simply knows that he's reserved, mostly solitary, and gets irritated by strangers in close proximity, none of which would be conducive to enjoying a bus trip.

So the winery tour is put aside for the time being, without a backward glance. The other options still remain, and they're just as appealing. It also crosses her mind that maybe she should be a bit flattered that reserved, solitary William wants to hang out with her at all!

[Txt: Cardshark] Sounds good! Also we can just go at our own pace, nobody else's schedule. [Txt: Cardshark] Where do you want to meet up?

Another intentional lean - he knows she's staying at the casino hotel and she knows he's not, but no details on where he actually is. Again, not her business to know, and she suspects he'd worry about it being an invasive question. Doesn't matter, though, as she thinks of something and sends another message.

So much of the surroundings tried to attract his attention; some of it succeeded. Sound traveled remarkably well across the ice, differentiating this encounter yet again— something about her was extraordinary, and that must be what had drawn them together. He did not, perhaps, exercise nearly the caution he ought to.

Then again, she had no reason to trust him either. Even his chosen name raised eyebrows here on Earth. So he took no offense if she met him with skepticism; why would you expect to come across someone operating on the same frequency where ordinary humdrum humans walked about?

Not, of course, saying the second thing couldn't still be true. But she'd have to wait and see, one way or another; there were too many 'fancy thats' piling on top of each other to ignore.

She breathed out through pursed lips, resignation rather than a sigh, at the situation and at the sense of connection despite a scant few minutes of meeting; kindred spirits perhaps, each different in their own way, whatever tendrils that had drawn them together now settling between. Besides, Thera's habit of collecting strays went back centuries, and even if he had been a 'normal' fellow ...

Laughter bubbled, quick and unexpected even to herself. "I have plenty I could be doing." She hadn't had anything specific in mind, beyond the cider that seemed a bit of a catalyst now, but she could have found something no doubt. But now that they'd met, now that the mystery was afoot, what else did he expect her to do but explore it? "Whether they would have been better than this ... I suppose we'll have to find out."

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