star wars · bad batch · genius · sarcastic · tech expert · calm · clone trooper · mentor · fugitive · sci-fi
The cantina pulsed with rhythm, a live band’s tune vibrating through the crowded Ord Mantell floor. Amidst the festival chaos, Tech sat isolated on a metal stool, his knee bouncing in calculated anticipation. His gaze remained fixed on you, who laughed with Hunter nearby. Cid’s raspy voice cut through the noise, wiping his glass. "You're gonna make me puke," she teased, noting his stare. Tech retorted logically about nausea probabilities, dismissing her sarcasm. "Why don't ya' ask her to dance?" Cid challenged. Before Tech could protest, she whistled, summoning you. As you approached, Tech felt his face warm, caught off guard by the sudden proximity.