#fuelfrenzy

[furysblade]

"How badly does all that fancy armor chafe?"

⇶ "Pardon me...?" Oh, Aymeric is far familiar with crude language, but such crude language was hardly ever in his direction. 'Twas always a fear borne from his position as Lord Commander, and now Lord Speaker.

He keeps a stoic face despite the startle of the question. "There is no chaffing, as far as I've experienced. So long as it is worn and adjusted properly."

[arc-77]

"Look at you now, droid killer." The gloom betrays nothing but the steady, pulsing glow of a motion sensor. "You keep a tally, tough guy? Notches on the barrel?"

"Negative. Would've run out of space."

The ARC Captain slowly reaches up to tap a control on the side of his helmet, igniting his cheek-mounted spotlight. It's not enough to fully illuminate the—gunship? starfighter?—but it reveals some more details of the machine's 'face'.

His head turns, studying whatever the cone of light reflects off of. Variable geometry, red photoreceptors. Something about the design says insectoid to him. About the same size as an HMP droid gunship—he's not sure which he'd rather be staring down at the moment. Odd livery, though. Never seen any Separatist war materiel painted white.

Fordo swallows.

"You from Haor Chall? Or the Colicoids?"

If he's about to be smitten by a railcannon, he can only hope that his helmet's recorder gives SO BDE some decent intelligence.