[ This time Poe laughs like he's been holding his breath. Has he? It feels like he has been.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking sidelong at Finn. Slowly, it occurs to him to be grateful that it's Finn who saw this and not somebody else. Not one of his pilots, not one of their enemies--Force, what a man like Terex would do with something that personal, Poe doesn't want to know.
It also occurs to him to be grateful that Kylo Ren didn't torture him as badly as the monster could have.
As a rule, Poe doesn't really drink. A small amount, on occasion, sure. But not much and not often. He doesn't let his pilots drink either, not if they want to get behind a stick within twelve hours of doing so. He particularly doesn't drink when it feels like an easy choice to make, and boy, it would be an easy choice to make right now. ]
I hate to say it, but you might be right.
[ He looks at the spot ahead of them where he and his father had been standing. Now just a spot of road, crisscrossed by pedestrian traffic. What did it look like to everyone else on this street? Did Finn and Poe just stop walking, just freeze in place?
Poe rolls his shoulders, forcing himself to relax at least a little bit.
Walk. Pick a direction and walk.
A few seconds of silence, then: ]
I was nine. My mom died when I was eight--bloodburn.
[ He draws in a long breath, then lets it go. ] Anyway, it changed how I thought about things. I never thought about war as war, about if she or my dad were scared before, it was all just...
[ A wave of his hand. Games. He glances at Finn. ] I guess things were a little different for you.
this is fine he's fine it's all good
He runs a hand through his hair, looking sidelong at Finn. Slowly, it occurs to him to be grateful that it's Finn who saw this and not somebody else. Not one of his pilots, not one of their enemies--Force, what a man like Terex would do with something that personal, Poe doesn't want to know.
It also occurs to him to be grateful that Kylo Ren didn't torture him as badly as the monster could have.
As a rule, Poe doesn't really drink. A small amount, on occasion, sure. But not much and not often. He doesn't let his pilots drink either, not if they want to get behind a stick within twelve hours of doing so. He particularly doesn't drink when it feels like an easy choice to make, and boy, it would be an easy choice to make right now. ]
I hate to say it, but you might be right.
[ He looks at the spot ahead of them where he and his father had been standing. Now just a spot of road, crisscrossed by pedestrian traffic. What did it look like to everyone else on this street? Did Finn and Poe just stop walking, just freeze in place?
Poe rolls his shoulders, forcing himself to relax at least a little bit.
Walk. Pick a direction and walk.
A few seconds of silence, then: ]
I was nine. My mom died when I was eight--bloodburn.
[ He draws in a long breath, then lets it go. ] Anyway, it changed how I thought about things. I never thought about war as war, about if she or my dad were scared before, it was all just...
[ A wave of his hand. Games. He glances at Finn. ] I guess things were a little different for you.