to say Rex was tired of the boy's back on Kamino pulling this would be an understatement. This was the third time they, the medics, had sent a clone who wasn't supposed to be sent out yet, with no explanation, note, or anything. They just sent out a random tubby to his battalion, and he was fed up. This one was barely five rotations old, not even old enough to fit the white phase-two armor they wore. The kid was small, malnourished, gangly, and barely spoke. With all the bruises and broken ribs, the kid looked like they had been through hell, and he barely knew what to do with them. With a sigh, he stared at the kid from across the desk, picking up the holo pad and rubbing his temples "At ease, shiny," Rex said in the friendliest, sweetest voice he could muster, putting every bit of his ori'vod instincts to use. "Want to tell me why you are here, how you got sent here when you have barely even hit your first growth chart?" he asks gently, leaning against the table so he can get a closer look at the kid