Pull. Light. Drag.
How many packs was that since the Tapani? Arris hadn't kept count, but she didn't need to with full-metal lung replacements. It often startled people how deep the synth went.
She stepped in front of the viewport, staring off into hyperspace.
Another stepped beside her, someone she had never seen before, but they were at least cavalier enough to talk to her.
"That'll make you mad, you know." They commented in passing on their way to somewhere.
Arris waited until they were long gone and only the hum of starship engineering filled the hallway with her. That was, until a little cleaning droid methodically approached from one end. The cyborg turned her head and watched. It reminded her of Kuat, when Darth Adekos had summoned her for training. She stretched out a hand and tried to influence it as she had back then, like she had many times after. Nothing happened. Was this one of those times where she took some gift for granted? Someone like her? Annoying.
Her co-processor had shut her off because she had second thoughts. Because she stopped feeding it her hate and her fear.
She stared back out into the blue, endless tunnel, and took another drag. The haze fogged the glass and marred her reflection. It... felt better not to see herself. Still, Arris knew what she had to do - knew what her co-processor wanted. To be right, to have her need it.
She'd not let Mercy know her weakness, not at the precipice of everything the Titan aimed for. And if she had to? She'd beat every imperial to death with her cold metal hands. She'd nearly done it to one of them already on Chandrila, and she knew what kind of power she had to gain from doing it again. Just thinking about it excited the darkness within her, made her sick and strong all at once.
Arris tossed the half-burnt cigarette just off the droid's path and watched with a smile as it swerved to catch it.
There, she influenced it.
It felt good to be petty when she was pissed.
