And as soon as the light went out, his fingertips clenched and tightened around the blaster.

He missed.

A feeling that he could recognize as dread made his glossa taste sour, going dry, as his spark rate increased significantly.

The scavenger ran and fell to the ground with a thud, kneeling beside you, fingertips grazing your hand.

"I'm so sorry."

He wanted to say so much more, but the words died in his throat, as he looked at the injury he caused.

Your disappointed eyes.