"All right, Poe," Paige said. "We've known each other a long time, haven't we?"
"Sure have." Poe wasn't sure where this was going, but for a second he worried that she might be about to proposition him, and wondered exactly how much he should explain if she did.
"This ship," she went on, gesturing to the homey interior of the Spark. "You've flown this since I've known you. Seemed a little high-end for an early-career Outer-Rim smuggler, no offense. But I'd never really seen what it could do until we got mixed up in that business over Cecep."
"You weren't so bad at Cecep yourself."
"I know. Don't change the subject."
"She's a good ship," Poe said. "I work hard to keep everything up-to-date."
"This thing was a fury out there. It flies like…" Paige, usually voluble, seemed at a loss for description. "Like a force of nature. What is this ship? What was it doing before?"
"Who did I steal it from?" Poe supplied, and Paige spread out her hands like, well, yeah. "I didn't steal it. I bought it, everything was legal."
"Bullshit."
"I'm telling you. I got a good deal. This ship's seen plenty of combat, you wouldn't know it to look at her now."
"Combat in what?"
"Jedi-Sith War," Poe answered, even though he knew what Paige's next words would be.
"Total bullshit. You're telling me this thing's over a hundred years old."
"Lemme show you what she is under all the mods." Poe set down his glass of avedame and led the way to the cockpit. Paige held on to her glass and followed. He knelt under the starboard controls to pop out the aged panel with its original serial number. Paige took it in her free hand and stared.
"A Jedi C-Crescent. This ship is a Jedi C-Crescent."
"It used to be," Poe shrugged. "It's like that riddle about the old temple, you know, you keep replacing it brick by brick—"
"Why was this for sale? And how could you — ten-years-ago you — possibly have afforded it?"
Poe sat down in the pilot's seat, and Paige joined him in the copilot's, still hanging on to her drink. He looked out the clear window of the cockpit at the star field above the tarmac where the ship now rested.
"It's haunted," he explained.
"Poe Dameron." She gave him an I'm-not-angry-just-disappointed look.
"What can I tell ya, Hays? You asked. I mean, lucky for me the guy selling it didn't know me, or he'd have known I'd totally pay extra for a haunted ship."
Paige examined his face, still trying to figure out if he was fucking with her. "Haunted. By. What."
"Haunted by who," Poe said.
"Haunted by whom," Paige replied, swaying forward and affecting a little haughtiness. Poe grinned.
"Haunted by whom," he agreed.
"…Well?"
"He was a great warrior, or so the guy who sold me the ship said. And a legendary pilot."
"Does the ghost," Paige said, "fly the ship with you? Do you have a, a spiritual co-piloting bond? That's why you're so good?"
"Sometimes." Poe leaned back a little, rested his feet up on the control panel. Paige pressed her lips together and glared at him. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."
"No, look, Poe. Seriously. Have you… actually seen it? Is that what you're saying?"
"Seen him," Poe corrected.
"Seen him," Paige said, rolling her eyes. She looked around and stage-whispered. "Is he here right now? …is he cute?"
"He is cute, yes," Poe said. "And I'm not sure where he goes when he's not…apparent in here. I think maybe that's something you can't understand when you're still alive."
Paige gave him a long, assessing look and then drank the rest of her glass. "I believe you," she said. "You know why?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"If someone came to me and said, place a bet on which of your friends is someday going to fuck a ghost? Your name would be the top of the list. It would probably be the entire list."
"When," Poe said, half-covering his face, "did I say anything about," but he knew that she knew that it was just a token protest.
"No, I think it's great. I worry about you sometimes, Dameron. It seemed like you might be lonely."
Poe laughed. "Well, it's a lonely job," he said, stretching back and resting his hands behind his head. He did his best imitation of a smuggler stereotype. "It ain't easy out there, sister."
"Uh huh." She smiled. "So does… uh… wait, how does your ghost Jedi boyfriend feel about your line of work, anyway? Morality-wise?"
"Yeah, no, he's chill." Poe weighed what to share, feeling a little protective. "He had a rough time of it. All he really wants now is company. And to get to fly again."
"Aw," Paige said sadly.
"Though now that you mention it." Paige quirked up her eyebrows at him and he went on. "I think things are changing lately. Cecep wasn't exactly a pure mercenary job, now, was it? And heading in there wasn't entirely my idea."
"Sounds like you're a good influence on each other."
"I hadn't thought about it that way." He hadn't, but now he was. Their mission brief was shifting lately. Luke was restless to do more with this ship than just fly like the wrath of a storm god, as much fun as that might be.
They sat quiet for a minute, and Poe dimmed the lights to see the stars outside better. He'd flown the Spark into a lot of wild shit out there and been well-rewarded for his troubles. Now he felt a hum of new possibilities in his mind — of different kinds of trouble waiting out there that he hadn't yet begun to imagine.
