NOT EASILY CONQUERED

                  poe’s usually a little quicker on the uptake than this, usually faster at figuring out what a person’s getting at before they have to spell it out for him. but he gets there eventually with everything — and this is no exception. it all sinks in eventually. the jacket— the one finn salvaged from their crashed TIE fighter, the one he replaced his armour with. 

                 ( he thinks of his mother’s ring, tucked under his shirt, the letter general organa wrote to him that’s still safe on yavin 4. in principle, poe knows that things are just that, and people are more important — lives are more important. but he knows why he repaired finn’s jacket, too. knows what it means to have keepsakes. ) 

                 ❝ finn— ❞  he reaches out, puts a hand on finn’s shoulder. leaves it there.  ❝ you’re alive. when i heard— i thought you were gone. you, and rose, beebee-ate. i thought i’d— ❞  poe cuts himself off; this isn’t about him.  ❝ my point is… i know that jacket was important. but listen— you gettin’ out okay is more important than that. and i’m sorry for putting you in a situation where you almost didn’t come back. ❞

▏▶︎Ŧ-И◀︎▕ 

                                                                         he knows, distantly, poe will want to touch him && a part of finn is deathly afraid, muscles tense in anticipation of that contact. he doesn’t know what he’ll do, he doesn’t know how he will react in turn. a part of him wants to flinch away, expecting harshness from a man who’s shown him nothing but understanding and compassion. it makes that small part of him curl up in shame.

                            but perhaps he has nothing to worry about because when the warm palm lands on his shoulder, it spreads a wildfire beneath his skin, through nerves frozen in fear. finn is so relieved, he almost has to close his eyes.

                                                                          ❝you didn’t.❞ it’s what he says to break the silence, after a beat or two. after relief and forgiveness found a way to make his heart start a steady rhythm again. finn spoke softly but when he brings his gaze to meet poe’s his voice gains in strength of conviction. ❝you didn’t force us to do anything we weren’t prepared to do. it wasn’t——— it wasn’t on you. we screwed up too.❞

Hardison isn’t completely unaware that most of the present party are weapons at him, but he’s used to that sort of thing. People usually aim weapons at him sooner or later. He’s not overly worried for the moment – if nothing else, they probably don’t want him to bleed all over the money, so it’s not too hard to act like he’s not the slightest bit scared.

He doesn’t like Finn looking at him like that, though, all hard and disappointed. “In my business they call it a long con, and I’m not fighting for anyone. I’m just helping you because – ” because why, he’s been nice to him? He’s been a friend? They all sound like ridiculous reasons he’s not interested in examining.

“Look. People die in wars, people die even when there’s no war, it’s just what they do. I’m not a people-saver. I’m a thief, thieving is all I can contribute to your cause, if you want it.” Hardison waves at his throne of credits again, and loudly stage-whispers: “I would recommend wanting it. You really need, like, rations and fuel and things.”

As one last ditch effort, what he wants to say is ‘please don’t send me away, it’s been really boring on my own and no one’s put up with in a while’, but what he actually says is: “Oh by the way, a patrol droid left with me. It’s got a long-range communications antenna, seems useful.” 

▏▶︎Ŧ-И◀︎▕ 

                                                                      it’s not the answer he expects, and the twist of his lips, the deepening furrow between his brow conveys just that——— but it’s not an answer he’s surprised by either. it’s one he’s come to expect from hardison, from someone like him, an answer that owes nothing to no one, plainfaced and barebones.

                   it strikes deep and finn finds himself without words just yet.

                                                                     forest dark eyes flit from hardison’s face to the side where the general stands and waits, funnily enough. her silence is unnerving but she keeps her expression blank as she looks at him, as though trusting him to make the right choice. he knows what it is, he knows this is the spark. 

                   that, more than anything, is what causes him to exhale, turning his attention to the man before him. ❝you didn’t think to start with that first?❞

                                                                     it’s a weak attempt at humour but there is a softening to his gaze as he moves closer, angles himself to gesture to a few people who look to be itching to talk to hardison. ❝i think you might be needed to explain a few things to the general and recon definitely wants a word. find me afterwards, okay? i’m———❞