I'm a sick little puppy – and now everybody is going to know it!
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By the fifty-third day on the Ebon Hawk, the Exile was sick and tired of the company – or rather, the lack of company. The Unknown Regions were not exactly known for scintillating conversation, that was for sure, and it wasn't for the first time that the Exile cursed Revan for being suck a hermit and hiding out in the most boring place imaginable.
Fifty-three days of wandering around the Ebon Hawk trying to make repairs and failing miserable. Fifty-three days of attempting to talk to T3-M4 – emphasis on the 'attempt'. Fifty-three days of controlling HK-47's homicidal instincts. At this point, the Exile would kill for some decent company…
Uh-oh. Speak of the Sith and you see his tattoos...
"Supplication: Please, Master, let me destroy the annoying utility droid!"
The exile sighs and raises a hand. "Haven't we gone over this before? No, HK, you can't destroy T3."
The assassin droid simply ignored her and began listing all the hundred and one reasons to destroy the utility droid. The Exile felt a migraine headache starting at her temples, and she glared at the droid causing it. Sometimes, she'd really like to…
Then she thought about what she'd really like to do. She thought about that for a very long time.
"Confused Query: Master, why are you looking at me like that?"
The Exile just jerked to awareness with a disgusted look on her face, and stomped off to the cockpit, muttering something about how she needed to meet some real people. HK was insulted.
After all, he considered himself to be much better than the inferior meatbags Master surrounded herself with.