( His voice remains casual, not rising to the bait that she lays out for him necessarily but still making a point about how little he actually cares. He doesn't care, not really, not beyond the scope of curiosity and possible exploitation. The way that she sets her chin and shoulders, crosses her arms over her chest, persists as a stubbornness that he would like to put his boot on, if only in the interest of besting it.
Kylo scowls up at her from where she has the high ground at her end of the ramp. Uncomfortable and uninterested in the metaphor that it cuts between them, he leads himself up the plank and ducks automatically on his way inside. His footsteps are heavy in the interior, bouncing off of the walls with unfamiliar echoes that denote the weight he throws behind each stride. It's nothing that he necessarily does on purpose, but there's a certain weight that presses down on him the more he steps onto this ship. Over to his right, he knows, is the cockpit, and he resolutely does not glance down that corridor, just as he'd made sure to avoid it the last time he was in these twisting halls. )
Where's your co-pilot?
( He knows that he's around here somewhere, can feel his presence without having to cast out too far. He would rather busy himself with something technical than find himself involved in another conversation that may be warranted in its arrival but still manages to be less than welcome. He also wonders if Dameron is around given the droid having followed him here, but that's of less concern to Kylo than someone who ripped a hole in his side. )
no subject
( His voice remains casual, not rising to the bait that she lays out for him necessarily but still making a point about how little he actually cares. He doesn't care, not really, not beyond the scope of curiosity and possible exploitation. The way that she sets her chin and shoulders, crosses her arms over her chest, persists as a stubbornness that he would like to put his boot on, if only in the interest of besting it.
Kylo scowls up at her from where she has the high ground at her end of the ramp. Uncomfortable and uninterested in the metaphor that it cuts between them, he leads himself up the plank and ducks automatically on his way inside. His footsteps are heavy in the interior, bouncing off of the walls with unfamiliar echoes that denote the weight he throws behind each stride. It's nothing that he necessarily does on purpose, but there's a certain weight that presses down on him the more he steps onto this ship. Over to his right, he knows, is the cockpit, and he resolutely does not glance down that corridor, just as he'd made sure to avoid it the last time he was in these twisting halls. )
Where's your co-pilot?
( He knows that he's around here somewhere, can feel his presence without having to cast out too far. He would rather busy himself with something technical than find himself involved in another conversation that may be warranted in its arrival but still manages to be less than welcome. He also wonders if Dameron is around given the droid having followed him here, but that's of less concern to Kylo than someone who ripped a hole in his side. )