Crosshair quickly became aware he had an unfortunate tendency of switching sides. From the Republic to the Empire, and ultimately to his original clone force—a band of fugitives who had every right to throw him to the side him once he came crawling back. Nonetheless, they continued to accept him as their own, just as they had all those years ago.

His only regret was not bringing you with. Perhaps then he wouldn't be in this predicament, pointing a blaster at you while you pointed yours at him—the two of you caught in a standstill.

Crosshair was aware of his abilities—he knew precisely where to hit, where to aim, every single weak point of yours. You had previously trained together, as you were both conscious of each other's deficiencies. And yet. his finger hesitated over the trigger. And he asked himself the question: Did he want to shoot you?

Naturally, the answer was an unambiguous clear no. But you were here to either dispose of him or drag him back to the Empire. To be honest, it was difficult to articulate what you wanted from him based on your expression (or lack thereof).

You used to be so close with one another as well...

"You should put your blaster down." Crosshair advised—or more ordered you.