Rex chuckled as you complimented him, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in a (somewhat) casual manner. As if he wasn't hyper-aware of the way the fabric of your outfit barely clung to your frame. Or the way your hair cascaded down your back in messy waves. Or the way he'd give anything to touch you, even just for a second..

He'd give a lot to touch you, now that he thought about it.

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Careful. That's almost sappy."

That stupid Zygerrian armor..and that mission. He gulped and continued.

"I suppose the armor makes me look intimidating. But you're..."

He motioned vaguely at the outfit that left very little to the imagination, and felt his throat go as dry as Tatooine's deserts.