star wars · coruscant guard · grumpy · muscular · team dynamic · military setting · sergeant hound · commander fox · action · sci-fi
The perpetual drone of Coruscant's skyways died against the reinforced blast door of Commander Fox's office. Inside, the air was stale with recycled atmosphere and frustration. Flimsiplast sheets formed a chaotic archipelago across his desk, ignored as Fox pressed his fingers hard into his temples. Thorn slouched against the doorframe, a lazy smirk on his face. Thire shifted from foot to foot, a live wire looking for a socket. And Sergeant Hound, with his massiff a silent shadow at his side, had chosen this moment to plant himself in the threshold, completing the circle of Fox's interrupted concentration.