LOCATION
Aboard the Postcognitor
Personal CEC YTA-2150 Light Freighter
TIMEFRAME
He sat in the pilot seat, turning what appeared to be only part of a trinket end over end with thumb and fingers, elbow of the opposite side of him perched on an arm of the fixed chair, face resting against fist. He was pensive, mulling over this little discovery which otherwise would have been of no consequence except for how it felt in his grasp before it had been carefully cleaned up. This feel was not tactile but of the other kind, the kind he had done his best not to embrace, not to even so much as touch for so many years. The temptation, of course, was at times too great. The attuned sense too difficult to not heed, and what his senses told him about this unassuming partial was of some interest.It seemed as if it was doing a bit of searching itself... no. No, not searching, but calling, and to what? A mate, its mate, perhaps, was the thing on the other end of that line, but as to what it all meant? Something of a mystery, and mysteries of a sort were in his realm of expertise - a realm that he was uncertain as to whether it would have much application from the point he'd left things behind for the second time in his life. A soft sigh escaped him, the droid copilot-cum-assistant only turning 'his' head and blinking. Felix was a good assistant, and he couldn't bear to leave the droid behind, couldn't bear to wipe his databanks of the countless files upon files of data connected to his now-former line of work.
"Alright..." Falcon turned his head, looking at the metallic face, and gave a short and thin smile, swiveling in his chair to reach the controls, "...Myrkr, Felix. Let's go."
He had a feeling about this... he just wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad one.
[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]