Poe Dameron (
happybeeps) wrote in
revivalproject2020-06-03 03:52 pm
So who talks first? | Calibrations
WHO: Poe Dameron, OPEN
WHERE: Poe's Calibration room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: 3 June - 10 June
WARNINGS: Torture, War, Weapons of Mass Destruction
You step out into a hangar, half sheltered, but open to the air along one side. The sky is blue, and in the distance there's scattered chatter from resistance members passing by as Poe and BB-8 work. Poe's perched atop the broken wing of his X-wing, scorch marks on her belly suggesting they'd recently come out of a tough scrape.
Poe's still half in his flight suit, the upper half tied round his waist, his old jacket sitting off to the side, draped over a ladder rung with care. There's scattered tools and wires to navigate, a makeshift workbench set up with his helmet and blaster abandoned there, next to his data pad which flashes at him with some unread message, though Poe seems to be pointedly ignoring it. Looking quite out of place, there's a tooka doll, not the sort of sentiment one might associate with Poe, and beside it, and old model of an A-Wing.
WHERE: Poe's Calibration room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: 3 June - 10 June
WARNINGS: Torture, War, Weapons of Mass Destruction
You step out into a hangar, half sheltered, but open to the air along one side. The sky is blue, and in the distance there's scattered chatter from resistance members passing by as Poe and BB-8 work. Poe's perched atop the broken wing of his X-wing, scorch marks on her belly suggesting they'd recently come out of a tough scrape.
Poe's still half in his flight suit, the upper half tied round his waist, his old jacket sitting off to the side, draped over a ladder rung with care. There's scattered tools and wires to navigate, a makeshift workbench set up with his helmet and blaster abandoned there, next to his data pad which flashes at him with some unread message, though Poe seems to be pointedly ignoring it. Looking quite out of place, there's a tooka doll, not the sort of sentiment one might associate with Poe, and beside it, and old model of an A-Wing.

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Sliding into the cockpit, the seats were set up back to back, and Poe shrugged off his jacket, looking around the controls eagerly. "I've always wanted to fly one of these things," he muttered excitedly, despite the situation they were in. He turned to crane his neck back towards the trooper, who was pulling off his helmet again in the gunner chair. "Can you shoot?"
"Blasters, I can."
"Okay, same principle," Poe coached, turning on switches, "Use the toggle on the left to switch between missiles, canons and mag pulse. Use the sight on the right to aim. Triggers to fire," he laid out calmly, and the soldier looked a bit panicked, taking hold of the controls with a nod.
"This is very complicated," he concluded anxiously.
The TIE fighter jerked, and Poe steered them from the dock, stopping short abruptly as they were still anchored by a cable.
"I can fix this," Poe assured, alarms blaring.
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The storm troopers in the hangar opened fire on the escaping TIE fighter as Poe continued to try and force them free, his companion figuring out the controls and firing back. Outside there was a series of explosions as he held his own.
"I got it," Poe announced finally, sounding confident, and the cable snapped, letting them soar from the hangar. There was considerable momentum, and even Poe seemed taken aback for a moment.
"Woah! This thing really moves!" he exclaimed, looking half exhilarated and half terrified.
The TIE fighter swooped around, flying along the Star Destroyer's belly.
"All right, we gotta take out as many of these cannons as we can, or we're not going to get very far," he instructed.
"All right," the trooper confirmed.
"I'm gonna get us in position. Just stay sharp."
He weaved to avoid gun fire.
"Up ahead! Up ahead! You see it?" he calls, getting them lined up, "I got us dead center, it's a clean shot."
"Okay, got it-" the trooper muttered, working the controls and locking onto his target. Poe served to avoid the cannons shots as he fired, dodging their explosions. The trooper shouted with excitement. "Yeah!!"
"Yes!" Poe echoes, equally thrilled with his shot.
"Did you see that?! Did . you. see. that?" he continued, and Poe laughed, grinning widely as they soared.
"I saw it!"
The weaved away from the massive Destroyer, swooping to avoiding more gunfire.
"Hey, what's your name?" Poe finally asked, not quite out of danger, but this was as good a chance as any.
"FN-2187," the trooper answered, and Poe's brow quirked, trying to look back at him.
"F-...what?"
"That's the only name they ever gave me," he answered with a shrug, and Poe considered for a moment.
"Well I ain't using it. FN, huh? Finn. I'm gonna call you Finn. Is that all right?" he proposed, struggling again to try and look back at his new friend.
"Finn. Yeah. Finn, I like that. I like that," the newly dubbed Finn decided.
"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron," the pilot introduced with a grin, the exchange well over due.
"Good to meet you ,Poe."
"Good to meet you too, Finn."
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The steadying hand might not have been entirely necessary, but Poe accepted the brace without compliant, laughing and looking pleased with how excited Tony seemed to be by all of this.
The memory faded, Poe wanting to end it in a happy place, and maybe not show off his crash when he was trying to hold up that image of being the best pilot in the Resistance.
"The X-wing's a lot smaller."
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"Yeah, you think you can squeeze in? Or should I let you fly solo?"
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"Little tight," he teased, and he gave Tony a considering look, hands dropping back down to settle casually over his thighs. "You do this sort of thing out side of a guy's head, or is this a mindscape only kind of deal?"
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"Not my boyfriend-" he correctly breathlessly. BB-8 whistled from below, seeming to counter that response, and Poe rolled his eyes in amusement. "Don't play favourites, Buddy."
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"It always seems like a better idea than it turns out to be," he agreed, glancing round the cockpit. Not nearly enough room to really enjoy themselves.
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