When she heard the knock at the door to her quarters, Vacy took a moment to check her composure. Expressing emotion wasn't a problem; it only became one when you were expressing something other than what you intended to. Standing up, she smoothed the creases out of the covers on her bed, then walked over to the door and pressed her palm to the panel beside it. The door slid open with a soft hiss.
As she'd expected, Corso Riggs was standing there. His mouth was a thin line, and he was rubbing his thumbs along the back of his knuckles. As soon as the door began to open, he straightened. "Captain, you need to know, that wasn't how I meant things at all."
Her expression didn't change. She simply looked at him for a few moments, and then nodded. "I understand." She reached for the panel again.
"No – wait – ow!" He stepped forward, blocking the doorway, and as the door slid closed it pinned him. He hissed, clearly in pain, but otherwise didn't move.
Somehow his obstinacy was both annoying and endearing. "Riggs, these are my private quarters."
He couldn't have freed himself; the door's pneumatics whined as it still tried to close. But he wasn't fighting it, either. "Just thirty seconds," he grunted out. "Please."
She could have told him to leave; she doubted he'd disobey a direct order. But the offense had not been great, and she'd responded rather harshly. She supposed it was only fair to give the kid a chance to attempt an explanation for his foolishness. The possibility that the pain in his eyes wasn't from being wedged between the door and the frame didn't influence her in the least, of course.
Vacy pressed the panel a third time, and the door groaned as it opened again. She frowned; hopefully C2 could repair that without too much effort or expense. Then she looked back to Corso.
His face was still a bit flushed, though he was relaxing somewhat now that he wasn't being crushed. "I didn't plan any of that out at all. It was just that I was still kind of thinking about the jetpack when you said about dancing, and then I mentioned my armor, and everything kind of came together and I had this idea." He looked away, his shoulders drooping a little. "I didn't… I guess I thought once we had the jetpack, maybe I could show you how useful it'd be, or we could just take it out for a spin and hey, if it didn't work out, no harm done. But I didn't want you to just say 'no, that's not an option' before you'd seen the possibilities."
She blinked, tensing, but he didn't look up, and as she searched his expression, she couldn't see any evidence of hidden intentions. It was hard to imagine that his talent for deception went so far beyond hers. Or you could be seeing the meaning that you want to be there, her survivor-voice lectured. Her stomach clenched in fear.
When he did look at her again, there was an intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there before. Vacy was glad she was listening, rather than speaking, because she wasn't sure she could trust that her voice would be steady.
For several moments, he just looked at her. "But that isn't the point, not really. I just – I wanted to make you smile, Captain. Really. And I'd never want to do something that'd hurt you. Not ever." He took a shaky breath. "The idea that you're gonna remember last night as just… some… distraction…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Captain, that ain't how it was. Not for me. And… I'm sorry. You've no idea how sorry I am."
Watch yourself, girl. You're a pro; you can handle this. She nodded. "Apology accepted, Riggs. For future reference, I hope it's clear that I will not tolerate any deception from my crew. Is that understood?" She kept her tone brisk and professional.
He swallowed. Nodded.
Unfortunately, the ache in his dark eyes was still there. Vacy clasped her hands behind her back, clenching them into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "Good," she said crisply. "Now, where's the jetpack?"
"None of us are trained in salvaging parts from used equipment," he said quietly. "So I sent C2 out to sell it for scrap."
Vacy pulled her holocom out of the pocket of her trousers, and flipped the channel switch. "C2, what's your location?"
Almost immediately, there was a faint hiss of static, and the droid responded, "I am aboard a taxi to the Lower Promenade, master, with items to be sold. I will return in approximately eight minutes."
"Belay that, C2," Vacy said. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Corso straighten a bit. "Bring everything back to the ship immediately." She closed the channel and put the com away, then looked back at Corso, who was doing everything he could to keep his expression neutral. But his eyes were sparkling and she thought if he bit his lower lip any harder he might draw blood. "I owe you an apology as well, Riggs. I should've listened first rather than jumping to conclusions. What you did was – maybe not wrong, but at least unwise – but I can understand your reasoning."
She folded her arms. "As it turns out, Risha says we need to head to Tatooine. Now, under no circumstances are you to be anywhere near a settlement." He nodded enthusiastically and she clenched her hands into fists, keeping her expression stern. "And you are never to operate it without someone else present in case something goes wrong." He nodded again, and now he was beaming. She folded her arms, her gaze locked with his.
And then she smiled. "All right, Riggs. You can keep it."
He let out a whoop of excitement and bounded down the hall toward the exit hatch.