Some Planet in the Expansion Region, Sunday

"Okay, I see the targ--choo!"

Mira turned her head slowly to look at him. "Can you maybe not get your sick all over my mission?"

"It's just a stupid Earth cold," Atton muttered, rubbing at his nose. "It won't kill you."

"No, but it's disgusting, and I couldn't trust your sense of hygiene before you started hacking up microbes everywhere."

The truck they'd been watching slid closer into view, the large lamps of the outer complex battering down on its sides. It had all the right markings. "I'm not going to sneeze on you."

"You know, you should thank the Force this didn't kick in until today," Mira said, turning her attention back to her electrobinoculars. "No way you could've pulled off that stupid hardass routine yesterday with you sneezing like a bantha cub all over the place."

"Can we just kill this guy and get this over with?" Atton muttered. "Because I really didn't ask for your input."

"No, we're not going to kill this guy and get it over with, because there's no reason to kill this guy just to get it over with," Mira said, rolling her eyes. "I didn't bring three gas grenades just to watch you 'prove your virility' by cutting the mark's head off."

"Fine, whatever, knock him out, then," Atton said irritably. "Can we move?"

Mira had already gotten up and vaulted off the cliff down to the ground below before he could even get that last sneeze out. Stupid cold. Keeping a system from tipping over into an all-out war over a karking trade route was bad enough without getting overloaded with Earth germs, and yet. And yet.

[[ establishy, idk. ]]