volitaunt: (034)
α gσσ∂ sραcε вσү ғяσм α gσσ∂ sραcε ғαмιℓү ([personal profile] volitaunt) wrote in [personal profile] ouzel 2017-05-04 02:25 pm (UTC)

Bake sale. Right. Bake sale.

[ Poe gives in to nervous energy, walking a circuit of the kitchen as BB-8 asks for confirmation of what a bake sale is.

The pilot has to resist making a sharp comment about bake sales and where they can shove themselves. Cassian is making five tables worth of baked goods plus the shop's standard inventory, which means to some degree it matters.

Or is that just this place, telling them that it matters?

He tops himself off, pauses as he starts to raise the glass, and sets it down in disgust.

How many times is he going to fail before he gets a grip on himself? The recent infractions pale in comparison to what he gave up to the First Order, but he's beyond used up his ration of mistakes.

The First Order.

Poe rests his elbows against the island counter, scrubbing his hands through his hair. ]


We can't just sit here. We have to figure out who's doing this, why, we have to get out.

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