[She steps into his personal bubble and he tolerates it for approximately two seconds before he stumbles to put some distance between them. Fortunately, his deductive reasoning fills in the gaps before too long.
Right. Of course.
Ben can't stop his lip from curling slightly. He can't decide what's worse -- being strapped to a metal chair alone and being told to sleep, or having his apparent sleeping quarters invaded by a force sensitive person who just spent the better half of the past hour torturing him.
Still, he doesn't have much choice, especially now that he is in the room and the door is closed. So he gives her a long look as he wanders over to the bunk in the wall. It won't take much for him to sleep, if he could calm down his flight instinct. He could already feel the heaviness of his limbs even as he sits at the bed's edge to pull his boots off, followed by the fanciful jacket he'd picked for the affair down at the casino. The holster hidden beneath it comes next.
Belatedly, he realizes his blaster is still missing, and his frown deepens further.
When he finally rests down, he's left with a pair of dress pants and a white undershirt. And for a long time, his thoughts race, and he forces himself to stare at the wall instead of turning around to confront the fact that Kira was just a few feet away from him with a fucking datapad.
How mad would she get if he asked her to go somewhere else? Probably pretty mad.]
no subject
Right. Of course.
Ben can't stop his lip from curling slightly. He can't decide what's worse -- being strapped to a metal chair alone and being told to sleep, or having his apparent sleeping quarters invaded by a force sensitive person who just spent the better half of the past hour torturing him.
Still, he doesn't have much choice, especially now that he is in the room and the door is closed. So he gives her a long look as he wanders over to the bunk in the wall. It won't take much for him to sleep, if he could calm down his flight instinct. He could already feel the heaviness of his limbs even as he sits at the bed's edge to pull his boots off, followed by the fanciful jacket he'd picked for the affair down at the casino. The holster hidden beneath it comes next.
Belatedly, he realizes his blaster is still missing, and his frown deepens further.
When he finally rests down, he's left with a pair of dress pants and a white undershirt. And for a long time, his thoughts race, and he forces himself to stare at the wall instead of turning around to confront the fact that Kira was just a few feet away from him with a fucking datapad.
How mad would she get if he asked her to go somewhere else? Probably pretty mad.]