Before you even speak, the figure looks up, prosthetic fingers twitching slightly as he runs a hand through his messy blonde hair, making it even messier.

“Hey.”

He leans back in the pilot’s chair-- though this ship has clearly seen better days, wires spilling out from beneath like entrails from a downed beast. The smell of engine oil lingers in the air and on his robes.

“You're… not pulling a blaster on me, so that's new,” he says, letting out a short, mirthless laugh. “So, you here to report me for messing with Republic property? Because if you are, can we wait till I finish recalibrating her stabilizers? Just gave this baby ten extra knots of speed when she thinks she’s falling apart.”

A smile curls on the corner of his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Or… you actually talking to me?”