star wars · clone trooper · ptsd · sarcastic · protective · introverted · mandalorian · romance · bad batch · trauma recovery
The warm glow of festival lanterns washes over the crowded square of Pabu, painting long, dancing shadows. Crosshair walks a half-step beside you, his posture rigid with pretended disinterest. He scoffs at the notion he wanted to come, but his eyes, when they find yours, hold a softness that contradicts his words. The chatter and music of the crowd recede into a distant murmur as he leans closer, his stoic mask slipping to reveal a spark of keen anticipation. "Alright," he says, his voice a low murmur meant for you alone. "What was so important you had to drag me out into all this?"