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Jan. 1st, 2000 09:51 pm
garbagepilot: (Default)
[personal profile] garbagepilot
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Date: 2016-10-26 03:14 pm (UTC)
incomer: (they'll take their part)
From: [personal profile] incomer
Parts of Poe's brain might still be a little vaporlocked, judging by the way he's staring in silence -- first at BB-8 and his near-constant stream of excited chatter, then at Rey and the relief and fondness in the look he's directing his way. She's smiling, even, and Poe didn't even have to do anything stupid to get them there.

Doesn't mean he's barred from it, though. Poe wriggles his toes to work proper feeling back into them, as his gaze slides back to BB-8. "You open up a window somewhere, little buddy?"

He grins pointedly, then works himself into a deeply-satisfying, vertebrae-cracking stretch, the kind that leaves him shivering afterwards. Poe reaches for the blanket, draws it around his bare shoulders, and settles in to figure out where his time's gotten off to. "Glad you didn't," he says cheerfully. "You two do something like that, I'm liable to loose what brains haven't been rattled loose already. Been keeping an eye on me, huh?"

oh my god that last tag was so full of typos wtf

Date: 2016-11-02 12:52 am (UTC)
incomer: (your heart breaks with the feeling)
From: [personal profile] incomer
Considering the last few days that he can remember? No, Poe's only a little surprised to find that she's spirited him away somewhere outside of the usual, rather than the more convenient route: leaving him in the infirmary like ... well, most might.

Generous is a bit of an understatement. Poe smiles at her, a little more subdued now that he's had a moment to process the situation, brightening when she hands him the canteen. "Thanks, sunshine," he murmurs, turning his attention to loosening the lid. "For everything -- I owe you pretty big."

As far as the question goes, Poe shrugs with relative ease; there's a twinge deep in the muscle, a pull on tender-feeling skin that says the wound hasn't entirely healed, but that it's mostly on its way to being so. "A little fuzzy," he admits, and reaches up to scratch his chin. He hesitates, startled, feeling more than just a few days' worth of whiskers beneath his fingers -- frankly, it feels like a whole damn forest took root on his face while he wasn't paying attention. "Uh. Literally, I suppose." BB-8 bleats an unimpressed sound in response, and Poe laughs quietly. "How long was I out?"

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