![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
suitably_heroicThere hadn't been this many Republic vessels sitting outside and in the Jedi Temple in quite a while. The cavalry had come in full-blown last night, though by that time there was little left to do but clear the base of the regular-flavor pirates left inside. The Senator had been rescued, and was probably on her way home in a plushy diplomatic shuttle right now. Not so much for Atton, who sat patiently in his uncomfortable seat in the back of one of the Fleet ships as he waited for the pilot to clear the last of the landing procedures.
At least they hadn't brought the Hawk into this.
He reeked strongly of kolto, but that was a smell he was used to. Hadn't had the time to resolve more than the worst of his injuries, and his leg still hurt like hell from where it'd been pinned underneath the stupid Force-worm three consecutive times, but he'd live.
Mical sank down into the seat next to him. "You can't keep doing this," he said.
Atton slanted a look his way. "Do what?" he said. "Save your ass? Just stop getting in trouble, then."
It was a stupid joke; they both knew which one out of the two of them was most likely to get into that. Mical sighed. "Your ability to... resurge... is useful," he said. "But if you keep abusing it, you're going to get yourself killed."
"No, I won't," Atton said, shutting his eyes. "That's the whole point. I don't want to die, so I don't let me."
"Sometimes I wonder about that."
"Don't." Atton took in a deep breath and let his head drop back against the seat.
"You're indispensible to the Jedi Order," Mical pressed on.
"Thanks," Atton said dryly, "Good of you to recognize it." (He liked hearing it, but he wasn't going to tell Mical that.)
"...and we are still low on Jedi," Mical said. "You refuse to take a Padawan, Brianna is still searching for one, and Mira is preoccupied. I wondered if perhaps we should look into some of the old Jedi Order's old recruitment programs."
Atton blew out a breath. "How, exactly, did we go from being nearly murdered by a Force-worm you didn't see coming to trawling orphanages?" he wondered.
"And if we do resume said program," Mical said, ignoring him, "I'll need you alive to teach combat and lightsaber techniques. Please keep that in mind."
Atton opened one eye and squinted it at him. "Sure," he said. "I'll get right on that."
---
Mical offered him an arm to help him get out of the ship three times. Atton refused, of course, because it was karking Mical, and no, he'd do it on his own. He wasn't an invalid.
In the end, it was the troops that hauled him back up to his feet off the loading ramp. That was less galling, because it was familiar: they were laughing, and Parish smacked him over the back of the head once. You know, the military way. "Going a little feeble in the knees, General?"
Atton shot Parish a foul look. "Don't call me General," he griped. "This isn't the Mandalorian Wars, smartass." Plus it reminded him a little too much of-- yeah, not going to think about that right now.
"Do we need to get you a walking stick?" Thont asked.
"Only if you want me to hit you over the head with it." It was easy, getting back into this rhythm. Familiar enough that Atton could actually muster up a smirk as he glanced sideways at the kid-- Wisud-- and gestured at him with his head. "Actually, maybe this badass can do that for me. Hit Thont for me, will you, kid?"
Wisud, looking tired and smelling a fair bit of kolto himself, actually grinned underneath the Miraluka headcoverings. Hadn't actually seen the kid do that, uh, ever. The kid reached out and jabbed Thont lightly in the back; she made an exaggerated stumble forwards. "Oof."
Atton grinned a little, even as his arm got hauled over Parish's shoulders. "That's a good Jedi Padawan," he said. He glanced up at the Temple's entrance as it came closer and closer. "...Hey, does anyone happen to know what day it is?"
[[ thus ends largely handwavey adventures in Gamescommity. nfb due to distance, open! ]]
At least they hadn't brought the Hawk into this.
He reeked strongly of kolto, but that was a smell he was used to. Hadn't had the time to resolve more than the worst of his injuries, and his leg still hurt like hell from where it'd been pinned underneath the stupid Force-worm three consecutive times, but he'd live.
Mical sank down into the seat next to him. "You can't keep doing this," he said.
Atton slanted a look his way. "Do what?" he said. "Save your ass? Just stop getting in trouble, then."
It was a stupid joke; they both knew which one out of the two of them was most likely to get into that. Mical sighed. "Your ability to... resurge... is useful," he said. "But if you keep abusing it, you're going to get yourself killed."
"No, I won't," Atton said, shutting his eyes. "That's the whole point. I don't want to die, so I don't let me."
"Sometimes I wonder about that."
"Don't." Atton took in a deep breath and let his head drop back against the seat.
"You're indispensible to the Jedi Order," Mical pressed on.
"Thanks," Atton said dryly, "Good of you to recognize it." (He liked hearing it, but he wasn't going to tell Mical that.)
"...and we are still low on Jedi," Mical said. "You refuse to take a Padawan, Brianna is still searching for one, and Mira is preoccupied. I wondered if perhaps we should look into some of the old Jedi Order's old recruitment programs."
Atton blew out a breath. "How, exactly, did we go from being nearly murdered by a Force-worm you didn't see coming to trawling orphanages?" he wondered.
"And if we do resume said program," Mical said, ignoring him, "I'll need you alive to teach combat and lightsaber techniques. Please keep that in mind."
Atton opened one eye and squinted it at him. "Sure," he said. "I'll get right on that."
---
Mical offered him an arm to help him get out of the ship three times. Atton refused, of course, because it was karking Mical, and no, he'd do it on his own. He wasn't an invalid.
In the end, it was the troops that hauled him back up to his feet off the loading ramp. That was less galling, because it was familiar: they were laughing, and Parish smacked him over the back of the head once. You know, the military way. "Going a little feeble in the knees, General?"
Atton shot Parish a foul look. "Don't call me General," he griped. "This isn't the Mandalorian Wars, smartass." Plus it reminded him a little too much of-- yeah, not going to think about that right now.
"Do we need to get you a walking stick?" Thont asked.
"Only if you want me to hit you over the head with it." It was easy, getting back into this rhythm. Familiar enough that Atton could actually muster up a smirk as he glanced sideways at the kid-- Wisud-- and gestured at him with his head. "Actually, maybe this badass can do that for me. Hit Thont for me, will you, kid?"
Wisud, looking tired and smelling a fair bit of kolto himself, actually grinned underneath the Miraluka headcoverings. Hadn't actually seen the kid do that, uh, ever. The kid reached out and jabbed Thont lightly in the back; she made an exaggerated stumble forwards. "Oof."
Atton grinned a little, even as his arm got hauled over Parish's shoulders. "That's a good Jedi Padawan," he said. He glanced up at the Temple's entrance as it came closer and closer. "...Hey, does anyone happen to know what day it is?"
[[ thus ends largely handwavey adventures in Gamescommity. nfb due to distance, open! ]]
