[ This was, of course, classic Poe Dameron. To the point where Andy wasn't even sure why she even bothered to get annoyed with him. But it feels like it's been an eternity that she and Rex have been waiting for him to stir since they dragged his body from the wreckage of the TIE fighter, and she's never dealt well with the waiting. The feeling of helplessness. Time drags. It'd gotten to the point where she and Rex had agreed to take shifts, so at least one of them would be resting or managing the ship.
Not as if having the other sitting around by Poe's bedside really did any good, but they were all sentimental creatures — Andy too, even if she'd be the first to deny it. So after days of stewing in worry and frustration, she's there when he wakes. ]
...Fuck. [ She exhales the word on a breath of relief as she stands over him, vulnerable for all of a moment before a little ember of temper swells in her breast. ] Good. You're not dead. Which means I can kill you for making me think for a second that you might be.
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Not as if having the other sitting around by Poe's bedside really did any good, but they were all sentimental creatures — Andy too, even if she'd be the first to deny it. So after days of stewing in worry and frustration, she's there when he wakes. ]
...Fuck. [ She exhales the word on a breath of relief as she stands over him, vulnerable for all of a moment before a little ember of temper swells in her breast. ] Good. You're not dead. Which means I can kill you for making me think for a second that you might be.