Poe chuckles. "I know what phones are. We didn't call them phones. I... can't remember what we did call them. The internet is the HoloNet, I remember that."
Another sip of burboun.
"A starfighter is a class of spacecraft. Maneuverable, high fire power, built for engagements in atmosphere or above the exosphere."
And that's where he has to stop. Frustration jabs at him again. He knows so much more than that, there's so much more to know, and so much more he could tell her and wants to. His palms itch to hold a flight stick, to feel the tug of thinning atmosphere, to show her the stars, and he has to remind himself again, again, again, that the memories he has of her aren't real. They've never met. This is the first time, and probably the only time they'll be able to talk to each other openly.
And, because Poe is an idiot and incredibly tactile, he touches the back of her hand where it rests on the couch. "I'm sorry they did this to us."
no subject
Another sip of burboun.
"A starfighter is a class of spacecraft. Maneuverable, high fire power, built for engagements in atmosphere or above the exosphere."
And that's where he has to stop. Frustration jabs at him again. He knows so much more than that, there's so much more to know, and so much more he could tell her and wants to. His palms itch to hold a flight stick, to feel the tug of thinning atmosphere, to show her the stars, and he has to remind himself again, again, again, that the memories he has of her aren't real. They've never met. This is the first time, and probably the only time they'll be able to talk to each other openly.
And, because Poe is an idiot and incredibly tactile, he touches the back of her hand where it rests on the couch. "I'm sorry they did this to us."