[ Wedge taken to mechanic coveralls. They hide the majority of his plugs, of which there are many: three in each forearm, three in each calf, five down his spine, and the one in the back of his head.
(He isn't ashamed of them. When they freed Wedge they told him the machines must've compensated for the increasingly difficult illusion that was his life as an ace pilot/rebellion leader by adding more ports for more sensory input.
But a body can only take so much. As the illusion grew in complexity, so did its cracks.)
Right now his sleeves are rolled up. It's awfully stuffy in here, that with all the people in close proximity to other another. ] I am a pilot. [ He corrects, looking at her ports. ] Ends up over twenty years of piloting in there translates well to out here. Snubfighters, hovercrafts...it's all the same to me.
And you? [ Slightly wryly. ] What do you do for our wonderful rebellion?
no subject
(He isn't ashamed of them. When they freed Wedge they told him the machines must've compensated for the increasingly difficult illusion that was his life as an ace pilot/rebellion leader by adding more ports for more sensory input.
But a body can only take so much. As the illusion grew in complexity, so did its cracks.)
Right now his sleeves are rolled up. It's awfully stuffy in here, that with all the people in close proximity to other another. ] I am a pilot. [ He corrects, looking at her ports. ] Ends up over twenty years of piloting in there translates well to out here. Snubfighters, hovercrafts...it's all the same to me.
And you? [ Slightly wryly. ] What do you do for our wonderful rebellion?