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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/1R2NMhi:
boxoftheskyking:
So i know that the popular headcanon is Jess and Poe as 100% platonic bros for life since way way back, which I totally dig, but consider:
It’s a Resistance-friendly bar, one that attracts all sorts but the fights are never too bad and the drinks are probably not poisonous. Jess is at the bar alone - Tsi Na ditched her fifteen minutes ago to flirt with a Mon Calamari, and Jess hasn’t had time to finish her drink. She’s not looking to pick anyone up, not really - she hasn’t showered since landing three hours ago, and she’s that post-flight tired that makes her a little slow on the banter. But she’s never going to leave a drink. The day she leaves a drink undrunk is the day she dies.
When the guy comes over to lean on the bar next to her she shifts away from him, pretending to check a buzz on her pocket comm.
“Someone’s going to pick that crowfoot right out of your pocket if you’re not careful.”
She turns to him in surprise, one hand going to check on the wrench she’d forgotten in her back pocket. He grins at her. Looks familiar, a bit, like somebody she’s seen in a photo maybe. Looks like he’d photograph well, anyway.
“Thanks.”
“I’m the same way. Like, I know the mechanics have got it, technically. But.” He shrugs, self-aware and joking. “That’s my girl, you know? Gotta check everything myself.”
A pilot. Makes sense that he’s familiar, anyway. The base here isn’t big, but everyone’s always coming and going. She grants him a fifteen degree turn on her barstool.
Keep reading
boxoftheskyking:
So i know that the popular headcanon is Jess and Poe as 100% platonic bros for life since way way back, which I totally dig, but consider:
It’s a Resistance-friendly bar, one that attracts all sorts but the fights are never too bad and the drinks are probably not poisonous. Jess is at the bar alone - Tsi Na ditched her fifteen minutes ago to flirt with a Mon Calamari, and Jess hasn’t had time to finish her drink. She’s not looking to pick anyone up, not really - she hasn’t showered since landing three hours ago, and she’s that post-flight tired that makes her a little slow on the banter. But she’s never going to leave a drink. The day she leaves a drink undrunk is the day she dies.
When the guy comes over to lean on the bar next to her she shifts away from him, pretending to check a buzz on her pocket comm.
“Someone’s going to pick that crowfoot right out of your pocket if you’re not careful.”
She turns to him in surprise, one hand going to check on the wrench she’d forgotten in her back pocket. He grins at her. Looks familiar, a bit, like somebody she’s seen in a photo maybe. Looks like he’d photograph well, anyway.
“Thanks.”
“I’m the same way. Like, I know the mechanics have got it, technically. But.” He shrugs, self-aware and joking. “That’s my girl, you know? Gotta check everything myself.”
A pilot. Makes sense that he’s familiar, anyway. The base here isn’t big, but everyone’s always coming and going. She grants him a fifteen degree turn on her barstool.
Keep reading
