[ Poe is running errands. Running errands, minding his own business, chatting away to BB-8 as the droid rolls along at his heels. He's got a bounce in his step and and a plan for the day, which is more than he usually has.
Of course, he's heard about the drones going haywire. He's considered grabbing one and seeing if he can't figure out where it's gone wrong, but he can't decide if it will be more or less complicated than analyzing a droid. Probably less, but how much less is where it gets tricky. The shuttle at least has some technology comparable to the stuff Poe knows from home. A robot here might be unrecognizable.
At least they're not big enough to carry off BB-8--
His instincts tell him something is dropping from above and he tries to duck, but the whatever-it-is still clocks him hard enough on the side of the head to see stars. It's heavy. BB-8 whistles in alarm as the offending object clatters to the ground, and it takes Poe's vision a second to clear enough for him to get a good look at what it is.
A lightsaber. He's looking at a lightsaber. He picks it up gingerly, turning it over in his hands, stomach sinking as he sees the flanges on the sides of the lightsaber's body, the kind of adjustment a person would make to achieve a very specific effect. His heart is pounding. He looks up, eyes sharp, scanning the crowd, thinking two things:
no subject
Of course, he's heard about the drones going haywire. He's considered grabbing one and seeing if he can't figure out where it's gone wrong, but he can't decide if it will be more or less complicated than analyzing a droid. Probably less, but how much less is where it gets tricky. The shuttle at least has some technology comparable to the stuff Poe knows from home. A robot here might be unrecognizable.
At least they're not big enough to carry off BB-8--
His instincts tell him something is dropping from above and he tries to duck, but the whatever-it-is still clocks him hard enough on the side of the head to see stars. It's heavy. BB-8 whistles in alarm as the offending object clatters to the ground, and it takes Poe's vision a second to clear enough for him to get a good look at what it is.
A lightsaber. He's looking at a lightsaber. He picks it up gingerly, turning it over in his hands, stomach sinking as he sees the flanges on the sides of the lightsaber's body, the kind of adjustment a person would make to achieve a very specific effect. His heart is pounding. He looks up, eyes sharp, scanning the crowd, thinking two things:
Please, don't let him be here.
I have to find Finn and Rey. ]