[ Wedge hates diplomatic functions. They are for soldiers who can command an air of nobility, like Tycho. Wedge Antilles is as common as they come: born at a fueling station, surname the galaxy's most common.
But here he is, because Tycho's off doing something else and it's about time the CO had to attend one of these. The food is terrible; the small talk is forced; everyone's wearing at least three X-wings worth of fancy clothes and that angers Wedge on principle.
And now he's sure someone's following him. Not very subtle, these imps. ]
Just keep walking with me. [ He says, wrapping his arm around winter, pretending he cares about the weather outside. The imp continues to follow them, skulking around the corner. ]
[ spy for the rebellion, also a skilled pilot and fighter. maybe there's a little of the force in her, to account for how well she reads people, but not enough to be a jedi. ]
( It is an impossibility, he and Morse. He knows it well. She is wild, in some ways, uncontrolled. Perhaps not to all, but to compared to the training of a Jedi? Aye. She lacks control. And in turn he wonders if that is what draws him to her, if she sparks that same wildness in him. Attractions come and go, but Morse had been haunting his thoughts for months as they've skirted each other. Attachments should be an exception with the Jedi, rather than the rule. He has given himself to the will of the Jedi and the Force, and instead he finds himself wanting more.
It is not that-- affections are expressly forbidden for Jedi Knights. They are simply not encouraged.
Being sent on a mission with her to gather information is particularly vexing, then, and he wonders that someone did not think better of it. Aye, that he did not voice some objection. )
Bobbi.
( A nod to her, as he tries to evade her for the-- oh, fifth time today, brush her off and focus on not focusing on her, which is going as well as it might sound. )
[ Maybe.... that one minor Imperial bureaucrat you are sure is secretly an Inquisitor. Or official hitman of the Emperor. Or something else equally unpleasant. No one pushes paperwork that perfect if they don't have something to hide.
Ms. Temple, you really should be more discerning with your clientele...
(i have so many other things I should be doing but i can't resist)]
[When you put it down on paper being a spy should be a cake walk. When you put it into action you realize how difficult it is.
But Remmy's gotten good at it. He's gotten good at lying with a straight face, listening and picking out useful information for the Rebels and sending it to them. Most of all, though, he's gotten good at surviving the dangerous game he'd been playing.
Of course, the other problem with being a spy is not everyone knew. It made things difficult, but was necessary. The less people that knew what he was doing, what his actual side was, the less risk. Which was how he ended up with his hands tied behind his back in a holding cell of one of the Rebel bases. He wasn't sure which one, he'd been blindfolded after all, but hopefully it was the right one. With a scowl he leaned back in his chair, idly licking his split lip before speaking up.]
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