sergeant_slick: Slick's eyes are closed and he looks exasperated. (wtf are you talking about)
sergeant_slick ([personal profile] sergeant_slick) wrote in [community profile] spiderparlour2022-05-28 02:08 pm

Escort Detail

He blinked slowly, the world outside his helmet swimming like he was in bacta. He wished he was, but today hadn't gotten that far yet.

Take three seconds to assess the damage before he tried to move. His chest ached, head throbbed, and his neck was going to give him a stern talking-to later. But he could still move his fingers and toes, and there wasn't any stabbing pain or wetness in his lungs or suit, besides a little red splat that was trickling down the inside of his visor. Good. Approximately good.

It took a second longer to remember how he'd got here, and some details were frustratingly missing. There'd been a seeker mine. He'd seen it pop up from the turf and chase the transport, but he'd had no time to maneuver. Good thing he was escorting the senator, otherwise he'd have been on a bike, and then he really would've been--

Shit. That was the bit he'd forgotten. He unbuckled his flight harness, working to free himself from the smashed flight controls. "You still in one piece, ma'am?" he called.
nabooedup: (p8)

[personal profile] nabooedup 2022-05-30 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
Ma'am

The word echoes its way through her aching head, rooting her in reality and pulling her towards consciousness and the awful awareness that she ached all over. Padmé had survived the landing being strapped in, but it didn't mean that the way the transport had been thrown end over end hadn't done some damage in the way of jerking her limbs around while sending her smacking back against the seat she'd been strapped to.

It was enough to knock her out for a moment or two and leave her head aching now that she's rousing.

"Are you alright?"

Padmé's hands work to unfasten the belts securing her before she rises to her feet on wobbly legs, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths and steady herself.
nabooedup: (p22)

[personal profile] nabooedup 2022-06-15 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
"You're Slick, I'm Padmé," she doesn't bother with the rest of the things he's asked, she recalls it all even as her thoughts remain hazy. "And you? You're alright?" Padmé regards him with concern on her face, whatever weariness and discomfort she might be feeling carefully concealed beneath the level expression of a career politician. He was right about needing to get moving.

"Are there any extra blasters on board?" Gathering up the belongings that were sensitive or vital she slings a satchel over her shoulder and gives him a nod, ready to follow him where he leads. "I don't usually arm myself, but given the situation, I think an extra shooter might be helpful, right?"
nabooedup: (p16)

[personal profile] nabooedup 2022-07-19 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
Though she hadn't uttered a word of complaint by the time the end of the first day came around Padmé was spent, sitting silently when Slick crawls into the tent he'd erected for them to share, listening to him break down their correct situation with a pensive frown on her face.

She was sure this was one of those worst-case scenarios she'd been preparing for since her entrance into politics. It's because she spent all that time going over what could happen and what she should do in a hundred dire, hypothetical situations that she's keeping her cool now - trusting him to take the lead and use the training he's been given to see them through.

As capable as she believes him to be already, Padmé hates that she's so ill-equipped. It makes her feel useless - a somber thought he doesn't let her dwell on, as his chatter while he dismantles his rifle pulls her focus sharply.

"What are the Jedi doing to that bucket?"

For the moment she doesn't draw attention to the last bit of what he'd said before the talk of buckets. It's concerning, it makes her wonder how widely spread that sentiment is among the troopers, though in truth she's not sure she can begrudge them their resentment. Their existence is a complicated matter, one that fills her with uncertainty when she dwells on it. It's hard not to feel a good deal of empathy for them, even as she's glaringly aware of how hypocritical that is. She wants to end slavery in every part of the galaxy, but she doesn't say anything about this, about these people who are bred and born to die.

Now that she's left alone with one of them, it's hard not to think about.
Edited 2022-07-19 04:09 (UTC)
nabooedup: (17)

[personal profile] nabooedup 2022-08-07 03:23 am (UTC)(link)
Her face is the portrait of even composure. Padmé doesn't believe a word of his excuses. She's spent years honing her year for the slightest sound of a lie, and she can hear the holes in his words, but she refrains. This isn't the time to pry, not when they have too much going on, not when she needs him to survive. If there's more to his choice of expletives, for the time being, Padmé decides to leave it alone.

"You don't have to flatter me, I won't have anything but good things to say about you once we're back again, please." A graceful hand lifts towards the rifle he had been so engrossed in disassembling.

"I think both of us will be guilty of acting unlike ourselves by the time we return." Because goodness knows she could hold it together for a long time, the outlook makes her sure they'll be put through the wringer - especially if those out searching for them start to catch up to their trail.

"Where did you learn Mando'a?" It's a safe topic, and, admittedly she's curious. If he can try to ply her with flattery, she can use her interest in him to make conversation.