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 as she wiped a 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.