he’s wanted to be left ALONE since he was pulled from the precipice of
DEATH------- even the med droids have been forbidden to come into the
room he’s claimed for himself, the security codes locked tight to prevent
anyone from disturbing him. the PAIN can be tolerated to maintain... his
fingers curl, slow, stiff, ACHING, to begin pulling at the latches and holds
of his armor. the cracks look jagged, ruinous in their damage, not just to
the integrity of the form, but to HIMSELF...
he exhales with a shudder, as he starts to draw away the chest piece.
beneath, fabric, bandage, and mesh tape feel TACKY with blood. it’s
not the first time he’s seen chewbacca’s bowcaster in action, of course,
but it’s the first time he’s felt it. the damage startles him, breath short, as
he begins to carefully unwind layer after layer, trying to get down to the
flesh so he can SEE what has been done...